A tragically flawed transgressive/nonsense/passé poet, pessimist and provocateur. •DOCENDO•DISCO•SCRIBENDO•COGITO•

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  • nilmarkas 54w

    A second look at my first real poem. A second thought given. Believe it or not, written by Nil Markas [nılmarkås] 11/20


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    The Why of I

    The dream was all distempered in Blue. The mossy, outworn carpet; the chalky walls... her virgin skin. Her hair, naturally a dirty blond, now some shade of Oxford Blue. And the gunshot wound to her maiden head -- the blood that percolated from it... undeviatingly. All so many shades of that same color, too.

    The Secret [secrets?] kept within her head? Her heart? Blue also in so many ways. This poor lady, lovelier still in stillness. 'Death,' dare I say? Barefoot in a garden of glass, shattering throughout an eternity. Silken sheets wreathed about, beneath and around... a vacant shell, festooned in all Her finery. Who doomed this poor lass, if not herself? Was it mercy that struck her down? Altruism or introversion? Perhaps that's just not for us to know...

    ...But, 'Life exists because it must.' So then, why must life exist? If in life, we can only trust that one day, our lives surely shall desist?

  • nilmarkas 137w

    @writersnetwork @lovenotes_from_carolyn @amberglow @turmoilmoon @entropyofconciousness

    Hey guys, good to be back ^^ This is a kinda' weird approach I've taken here; it's sort of a mesh of several different styles inspired by a few of my favorite poets. But this one's also particularly near and dear to me, but I'm not going to say why that is just yet. I'm curious to see how you each respond to this. After it sits for a few minutes, I might start dropping some hints... or hell, I'll probably just bluntly spit it out after the first guess, as per usual haha Anywho, I hope you enjoy, guys �� Thanks ^^

    EDIT: So yeah, since some folks are having trouble understanding what's going on here, I'm just gonna dump my proverbial purse out onto the table.

    Okay, guys, so I'm an epileptic (Yes, another illness -.- I'm sure this is getting old, but what can I say? I've got a lot of shit wrong with me =P) -- mostly partials, tremors and ticks with the occasional grand mal = fun =P Anyway, this poem is supposed to allow you to peer into my thoughts as I go through each typical stage of a grand mal seizure. That's why it seems like three broken up or incomplete poems, because that's exactly what it feels like. I think it's pretty much linguistically impossible to articulate the -exact- mindset of an epileptic during a seizure, but this is as close as I can come, while still managing some kind of rhyme scheme. I also kinda did each set of the three in a way that -sort of- imitates three of my favorite poets of all time, each of them from totally different backgrounds and era. Thanks again, guys ^.^ Sorry for the confusion lol Lots of love ������

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    I slip into a quiet rage, without warning, unaware
    Eyes bewildered, as I gasp for air
    Writhing and biting, I jerk and shudder
    Slick with sweat, I strain to utter
    But a single word to let them know that I'm still breathing
    Yet then the whole world seems to vanish,
    And again I'm nescient to the fact that I lie bleeding, half-naked on my bedroom floor

    Convulsions take me, briefly though, into another realm
    A place of pure darkness that seems to whelm
    Within my mind, so dim and broken
    Outside myself, left with this token
    That serves me only as a note of pity, from the crowds who gather near
    I cannot grasp the goings on
    Of the exterior world above me, in my state so drear, from whence my blood and tears do pour

    Another fall, a halo's crushed,
    O'er some veneer, thus cracked and flushed
    While strangers to my side had rushed,
    I'd lain immobile -- trembling, hushed
    For knowing only this ignominious fear,
    My shame. In pain, and self-disgust,
    My distorted view held heretofore
    Forsooth, so foolish -- right to its core

    Yet then, again, I stand
    When tremors take me to my knees,
    Yet then, again, I'll stand
    And when my crown is fractured, and dismaying thoughts abound,
    I'll stand again, up to my feet, though weathered and unsound
    And if the Fates do see it fit to force me cruelly back to the ground,
    I'll leer in Their direction,
    I'll spit at what They've surely planned
    I'll take each strike in stride, you'll see,
    And then, again, I'll stand

    -Nıl Markas-
    Finished April 19th, 2019


  • nilmarkas 138w

    This, dear friends, is but the first collaboration of @turmoilmoon and @nil_markas -- back from the dead, it would seem ;) So tell me, have you -- much like Turmoilmoon and myself -- ever wondered what a first contact scenario with an extraterrestrial civilization would really be like? Would it be a wondrous and gloriously shining moment for all the world to behold? An instance in which all of our petty differences would simply melt away, elevating us to a higher level of consciousness, understanding and global cooperation? Would it send the world into complete chaos, just by learning how insignificant each of us really are? Well, ours is a prophetic glance into what -may- become of us, on such an occasion; taking into consideration the historical facts regarding our current understanding of human to human first contact scenarios. -However-, the human spirit and our will to survive has long dazzled and amazed, has it not? ��

    From the twisted minds of Turmoilmoon and Nil Markas, we proudly give you, our new poem, "The Fermi Paradox." Thank you ^^

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    The Fermi Paradox

    Crimson dusk arises, like a thousand bleeding suns
    A sky painted red, in old Promethean design
    Burning vast and furious, for all our billion blazing guns
    For every soul that was lost along that massive battle line

    Spherical crafts descending down from the clouds up above
    Golden orbs shining bright like chariots of the gods
    Stared upward in awe and wonder at the sight thereof
    What shall then befall us now, when vanquished by all odds?

    By all our might and mysteries of ten thousand years, henceforth forgotten
    With every vile warhead spent and shelled for nought but one more rancid breath
    And broken cradles amidst the ruins of weeping babes, all riled and rotten
    In keeping with traditions most ancient, that have finally sung us sweetly unto our collective death

    O' burning embers in the sky, pray tell us what you scheme tonight
    More radiant than our master Sol, more lucent than all lunar light
    Star hunter stalks and fells his quarry, in perverse and sheer delight
    Then what are we, who lie beneath him, but treads of carrion scattered wide? Or victims of an ever-burgeoning, and unconquerable appetite?

    Done, dumbed and downward, as all of advent swiftly fell
    Reduced us to a modicum, left forfeit to a bitter hell
    As piece by piece, the puzzle tumbled, but lo, the final resounding knell
    And just as all we'd ever known was overcome, as they did quell
    It all cascaded oh so quickly, by Jovian might, unbreakable, but for what we had, for what it's worth, may as well fall -- oh, just as well

    Pungent vapored petrichor of acrid ashen rain
    Death Sirens all around as the hell bells chime
    Flesh burning down to bone, in whispered screams of scorching pain
    The deafening cries of ghosts still lingering, as the oceans gloss with rime
    Apocalyptic dreams predestined to then finally come alive
    Ending every last trace of our hubris, our undying insanity
    Pouring into temples, masses fall to their knees, and weep and shrive
    The final chapter comes to its end, in our long and morbid fable called humanity

    Written by Turmoilmoon and Nil Markas
    Finally finished April 8th, 2019

  • nilmarkas 154w

    @writersnetwork @turmoilmoon @laughing_soul @ghoulfrost @divokost @lovenotes_from_carolyn @readwriteunite @mirakeeworld @amberglow @johnrtarter <--�� ^^

    Hey guys, I know it's been... well, quite a while since my last post -- and I do apologize for the excruciatingly long periods between each of my posts. I've become the Tool of Mirakee haha (I wish -.-) But anyway, here's another potentially depressing poem by yours truly, Nıl Markas *polite bow* Uhh What else? Oh, yes, it's probably going to come off as depressing; but no, I'm not depressed xD Quite the contrary! Things are finally looking up for ol' Uncle Nıl. So please, try to refrain from pitying me lmao And well, thanks a bunch for your patience and support! And I'm deeply sorry if I missed anyone. My memory's not what it used to be -.- Much love, folks! ������


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    Exegesis of Oneself

    Staring in the mirror, I can't help but shed a tear or seventeen for every time that I gave up when I was near
    Nearer even still, but I can barely breathe at all, with the pressure bearing down, and no cushions for my fated fall
    I lose myself, then lose my mind, but only when I find the time; and time itself is closing in -- let's face it, I'm well past my prime
    It seems the past is always with me, every wretched gaffe or crime -- every solecistic blunder, ever creeping in my mind
    Am I a liar, or worse, a villain? Are these dark musings justified? Is it just me who's so unwilling, or are these quirks found far and wide?
    No, I'm not perfect -- that much is clear; but are these queries that torment me really so dire as they appear?
    I've lost my faith in only me, or maybe all humanity -- I can't decide if I'm truly the misanthropic wastrel that I see
    Every time I make the mistake of gazing into my reflection, cast into complete abjection
    Weeping out each faint and feeble, undeniably selfish plea

    -Nıl Markas-
    (December 17th, 2018)

  • nilmarkas 164w

    @writersnetwork @ghoulfrost @lovenotes_from_carolyn @turmoilmoon @amberglow

    So yeah... I'm so very sorry for the impromptu, and unforgivably long hiatus, guys =( About six months ago, I ran headfirst into the worst case of writer's block I've ever been forced to confront -.- My words were taken from me. And the longer I waited, the guiltier I felt. And well, the rest you've heard, so without further ado, here's Enigmas

    PS: Sorry if it sucks xP I'm a little rusty.

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    Surging outward, lonely souls -- we cast across a thousand stars
    Lightyears by our shortest measures, kept safe and secret, locked up in jars
    Miters met along this fabric, when we danced on Venus, and died on Mars
    And all that's left to us in the end are those shy enigmas -- solely ours

    Some quickened spells of clandestine tears,
    Spread all throughout those broken years
    Spat on the faces in those shattered mirrors,
    If only for our lurking fears -- should they manifest in time

    And time, itself, would surely cease in the gardens of our youth
    Love would be lost forevermore, if only they should learn the truth
    Then would they see me as I am -- foul and furious, so uncouth?
    Or shy and shuddering, blister pocked -- those lips that hide my lies, forsooth

    --Nıl Markas--

  • nilmarkas 187w

    Here's my first real word-salad/def entry, and still one of my personal favorites ^^ I hope you all enjoy ��

    P.S.: This is meant to be read rather fast and rhythmically, a bit like a Def poem. It all comes together if you get the timing right �� Timing is everything here; and the words themselves are basically meaningless. This is an aesthetic flow, something like a rap.

    @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @laughing_soul @lucinda @lovenotes_from_carolyn

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    Mind's Aloft (Sipping Diet Zaum)

    Hot, caustic mess, mesh cohesion in the buff
    Rough and wide, dead set eyes met stark merriment atop the bluff
    Brisk like winter's nipping sting -- under duress, dropped everything
    Like hounds calling, crying, screeching out our heresiarch's nom de guerre, though knowing not but what's ready-made
    Inscriptions fading -- tabula rasa; glyphs abrading -- all sub rosa
    Mastery of the Ebola blues, germ fed and shaking -- withered through
    Shriveled, pink infancy; born drowning, all alone
    Crippled by atrophy -- numb, skin down to the bone
    Skull shatters with a husky breath; paper maché facial like a kiss from a trash compactor
    Agenda's all I see on the faces of strangers -- pampered, pious pilferers -- the Emperor's new swindlers
    Hepcat swagger breaks midnight happenstance
    Like broken mirrors under ladders, left it all up to chance
    Polite fiction: lies primed then awash in white
    Social friction: discussing politics or religion's impolite
    Scoff and mutter at the passé, blackface, skin-job epithet persona, with a thick stutter
    Last to feed and first to leave, but when the clock winds down, who's the last to grieve?
    Crept along worn, vinyl siding, all high on benzedrine
    Why bother lying when no one really cares for Abilene?
    Past-imperfect, foresee our future-tense failures
    My, what a defeatist mindset, ever blazing new trails
    Never knew not how to suffer, since life imitates art
    Never thought myself a prisoner until the day I'd read Descartes
    Full bee's wax tablets melt away when to thine own self, you're true
    Because in order to love someone else, you must first learn to love... well, you

    -Nil Markas-
    (July 27th, 2016)

  • nilmarkas 190w

    This was, what I consider to be, my very first -real- poem. I wrote it one morning, after awakening from an unusually strange dream, even by my standards. The composition took me about five whole minutes. It was as if I'd already known all of the words -- total déjà vu. Anyway, it's a bit of an odd one, I know o.O But I sincerely hope you enjoy it, my friends ^^

    @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @laughing_soul @lucinda @lovenotes_from_carolyn

    --Nıl Markas--
    (April 22nd, 2015)

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    "Secret Blue" by Nıl Markas

  • nilmarkas 190w

    #Deprive @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @lucinda @laughing_soul @lovenotes_from_carolyn

    [noun, often capitalized]
    ••enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others••

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    Daily I deprive myself of love in lieu of loathing
    Damned if I'm depraved enough to laugh at their foreboding
    May the devil take all that God did make, and bend it to his savage will
    So let it be, this bitter deal, but for my baleful sake
    No mercy shall there ever be for vile souls eroding

    Captured by a sinful whim, deprived of fellow feeling
    Tortured by conflictions, though my clemency's unwilling
    That the ground would quake and the heavens shake, and bring my foes down to their knees
    I would not bend unto their pleas, not once for what's at stake
    For their sins to go unpunished seems so unappealing

    Daily I observe these fiends, in their unjust rewarding
    Damned if I am helpless to react to their according
    May they writhe in ache, and their bones all break -- their deeds be brought into the light
    Ask me then, "who has the right, in this judgement, to partake?"
    I would say it was earned, for malfeasance they were courting

    --Nıl Markas--
    (April 12th, 2018)

  • nilmarkas 190w

    #fragile @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @lucinda @laughing_soul @lovenotes_from_carolyn

    This is a poem I wrote for my nephew, on the occasion of his 19th birthday. He's a tough young man, especially considering the fact that he was born with only one kidney =( It's been a source of endless pain and illness for the poor kid. I decided to post this, not only with his permission, but at his request. His poor health is the only real relevance with fragility, because overall, he's a tough son of a gun lol I hope you enjoy, folks.

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    In a Semblance, Unbroken

    Exalt and cherish the waking and torn,
    To rise from the rocks, as dust and dew
    Rare in striking and wondrous form,
    Yet still familiar in many a relevant hue
    Birthed in flame and blinding ire,
    Set to unseen frailty in the confines of his molded mark
    Then ankle-high, and lo the marvel of his resolve,
    A persistent smile in every stride, hard-fought
    And now matured, and ever simpering on,
    So apt in each and every sly remark
    He's our deeply prized and duplicate,
    On the face of it, stalwart and jubilant,
    But in certain aspects, quite delicate,
    Still flickering brightly, our poor, sallowed spark
    A reflection of a path in desuetude,
    And a doppelganger, if one's vision's skewed
    Like a fragile sapling with blighted leaves,
    Leaning gently 'gainst the hanging eaves
    As amber crushed within the stone,
    A matrix of fury, flesh and bone
    Fashioned similarly on this old face of mine,
    Likewise patterned on the myriad among the long-forgotten of our proud and lingering line

    --Nıl Markas--
    (March 30th, 2018)

    -For Jay

  • nilmarkas 190w

    I started writing this years ago, while I was in the hospital, after a near-fatal car accident. Thankfully, I was the only one who was hurt �� A few of you know the full story, which was detailed in some of my earlier poems, namely the aptly, if not bluntly titled, "The Cause" and "The Effect" -.- Anyway, sometime before said accident, I found myself in an even more devastating situation -- an abusive relationship with a real devil of a gal... seriously �� The car wreck was quite honestly a blessing in disguise. It gave me plenty of time to think, and write ^^ However, my time spent with this seductress brought nothing but heartache, sheer despair, and ultimately, a misguided and lingering sense of misanthropy �� But I truly believe that I've now fully recovered from this mental conditioning; and that's largely thanks to my super supportive friends and family, as well as all of you kind folks here on Mirakee ^^ I owe you all so much ������ Thank you all so very much for your compassion, your consideration and your endless succor! �� I hope you enjoy this ⚘

    @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @laughing_soul @lovenotes_from_carolyn @lucinda

    ...the most original title ever! xD

    She was my bliss for a time, my enrapturing splendor
    In her, I discovered all that I could, and should ever be
    I threw myself at her feet, a most devoted pretender
    Quite smitten, love-bitten -- clear in every lovenote I'd written,
    Pliant and happy, when down on one knee
    I knew nothing if only that She was the one whom I pined for,
    And She knew that no matter what She'd command, I'd agree
    Despite what my loved ones would surely surmise, I saw just what I wanted -- desirous love in her eyes
    But verily, sadly, She only saw an obsequious fool of a servant in me
    Blind to her every individual failing,
    Entrenched in her marked cruelty prevailing
    And duly, they'd surfaced, each faint imperfection
    But still I stood by her, too disheartened to see
    To her, I believe I was a work-in-progress,
    Gullible and hanging on each broken promise,
    Her poor, dumb and dejected, old "doubting Thomas"
    So obedient to her every iniquitous plea

    When She'd burn, I would soothe her
    When She would weep, I'd ache
    She would sing and I would slumber
    When She'd tremble, I would quake

    Woe is me, the ever spurned, by my dearest and disloyal
    For every inkling that you would, one distant day, my heart despoil
    My plague and panacea, in soft and shining mortal coil
    Better now, though bitter was my long and endless toil

    But to me, She was something so much more,
    My endless source of inspiration, who on the surface, was warm and loving,
    Though rotten to her very core
    She'd cast to me her admiration, as pearls before swine, unto appetent ears
    Gently wiping away all my tears, then laughing at me while my back was turned
    But it was only for her that I had yearned
    O' the passion as my heart, it burned!
    A love so often unreturned, as coldly as it would come to be
    And in the aftermath, I'd finally see
    That She was both my sweet escape, and my lovely, last embrace
    The sole and lonely shot in my warm revolver,
    Concomitant with every lost hope erased
    The most unforgivable, ultimate sin,
    To swallow the slug, much to my chagrin,
    She'd leave me to perish, once withered within,
    Then rob me of whatever of my dignity's left,
    Broken, then moribund, and finally effaced
    Yet still my last thought before dying
    Would, of course, be only of She

    --Nıl Markas--
    (April 9th, 2018)

    (The background image is something I found by fortuitous coincidence, via Google search o.O I don't own the rights to the painting, and I've not a single clue as to who painted it -- though I searched diligently for its provenance -.- The reason I chose this image is due to the fact that the woman in the painting bears an uncanny resemblance to the woman in my poem �� ...Weird.)

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