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A Tribute to the Poetic Styling of E. Poe

Phantasmagoria - A sequence of real or imaginary images like those seen in a dream.


Deep in the bowels of the cathedral that is mine soul

Exists a child, purest in its whole

Locked behind a door iron clad with rivets of brass

Thine only place entered, wearing no mask

Darkened, dimly lit corridors and stone ephemeral

Lives truths so lively to eat of them is surely indigestible

Child pure of innocence

Whimsical, lackadaisical with a view of pure interest

Only children could possess

Curled near the heart center of mine broken, impassioned state

Only with the flower of life flaming forth can such two become one, co-create

In the masters chambers

Barbaric beasts slumber, encumbered with woes dreary and dreadful

Behind a drunken passage of memories reminisced with a head full of hindsight

The pathway lead by a blind light

A skeleton key to a chained canvas painted blood red with dry tears

An emotive of lost leviathans, lethargic leeches, scattered morose manifested molecules

A Dorian Gray picturesque in lucid brush strokes envisioning a tortured soul

Eye locked, face gaunt, aghast

But alas

Tis’ an eternal bout of energy and entropy forevermore.

Read next: That Kiss
Docyele Llenretep
Docyele Llenretep

Mystic, Empath, Shaman, Reiki Practitioner, Exorcist, Occultist, Poet, Writer, Healer, and Hermit. I am called many things, by many names, with many titles, but you may call me Docyele. I practice many different paths and observe all I see.

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