Tag Archives: symbolism



A vessel
Flow, flow, flowing
Red clots
Blue brown lands;
Purple blotches
Toss, toss, turning
Throbbing clusters
Here, there, everywhere
Tumor, cancer, hemorrhaging.




Splotches of mud cover
my ugly orange dress;
black tear stains
chronicles of plight.

Do you love me, now?
Voodoo doll’s distress;
a hideous, melting rainbow’s
bipolar state of strife.

Scratching a throbbing tumor
chaotic, malignant mess;
blue, brown, purple, pink,
picture-perfect, and bright.

Veiled by a fabric
inhibiting my breath;
a kaleidoscope of moments
the most hideous sight.

Caught up in my throat
these hiccups called death;
jostling beneath my sternum
on road bumps called life.

Heart-Shaped Box


To whom must I bare
The crevices of my skin
My subtle frailties and
The tales of my sin

With a hole in my chest
Unfaltering, I begin
The vacuum within absorbs
Letting it all sink in

I was a hollow bird
Inferius; a corpse akin
Rigor mortis enveloping
Soul-dead puppet to reckon

The fatal err; a crime
Beyond virtue’s line thin
I grievously wronged myself
Thus consequentially grim

My fault? You ask thereof
Nothing less herein
Than the evolutionary hamartia
That I cared more than him



Let’s keep on talking
Indefinitely through infinity
Till the moon’s exhausted
And the stars burn out

Let’s keep on matching
The lines of our palms
They become road maps
To our destiny as one

Let’s keep on touching
The bare tips of our fingers
Till the crashing waves stop
Bashing the shore’s chest

Let’s keep on loving
Till the whole world knows
We are not you and me
But we are us

© Rosh Von Amber 2014



Bliss betwixt our souls
That no one could defy
A passion once so whole
Even reason could not deny

It was then a gleeful spring
‘Tis now an autumn dry
Then merry birds would sing
Now departing swallows cry

The stooping willows shudder
Under the mourning moonlit sky
Here in solitude I wonder
What went wrong, and why

It has been so long
Since your last goodbye
We are a forgotten song
Letting our love die

© Rosh Von Amber 2014



I am the delicate crack
You see inside your mirror
Placed at a perfect angle
Rupturing the flawless skin of your facade

I am the lanky shadow
You see on a bright day
Right behind your back
Darkening a fraction of your poise posture

I am the tiny hole
You see on your shirt
On the front of your chest
Exposing what lies beneath your lusty flesh

I am the dusty diary
You would not show
Under your childhood bed
That encrypts tales of your secrets

I am the worn-out pillow
You would not lay out
Shoved beneath a fresh pile
That takes the blow of your anguish

I am the tattered teddy bear
You would not exhibit
Tucked in your blanket
That you hold close through your lonely nights

I am the leprous body
You see yet do not see
Enclosing skin to bones
That you use, misuse and abuse; cradle to grave

I am the dead human
You show yet do not show
Enveloping skin to bones
That rattles against the void of your being

© Rosh Von Amber 2014