Aven Black

Aven Black Poems

This rival of
Mindspace,
Perception,
and Fate
...

There was a forced solemness among the mourners at the tiny grave. Thick clouds drew grey glazes in fear of drying the tears of those who dared to weep. They all weeped for her sake... Little Bathory Baker.
The sole daughter of the towns only hat-maker.
She grew no more past ten, yet a dire spirit lurked within her. She was unable to cry that day, little Bathory Baker.
Standing at her mothers ill-fed side she stared at the tiny grave too.
...

We hope to god that
in this delicate romance
of those of us
without pockets in our pants,
...

I awoke again this day
With no motion in my heart
With strings of misfortune plucking
The intstrument of time were apart.
...

It was in this moonlight,
Tinted glass drops like starlight
Brought my attention to flight,
One night
...

And so it is that
From whence the dusk of slumber
Came, arose the palest thunder
In their eyes, once
...

Thus begins the new life
Shed the old
Like the tattered soles
Of tattered shoes
...

As the wolf cries and the moon waxes,
I shed a tear for humanity,
As the air bleeds and the sun blackens,
I shed a tear for myself.
...

Forever
In Leather
And a whip-swing cut
They never see her face
...

It ain’t over yet my son
This war has just begun
Won’t you turn on the light so I can read
The latest on these eastern sinful deeds
...

Two days in the valley
With a razorblade smile
draws on a dark little foetus
With aluminum style.
...

You know I stay in a little
Broken place I call home
I know it ain’t very much
But it’s a place of my own
...

I summon you who refuse to
Lie back and listen
I see your bloodshot eyes
Starting to glisten
...

I wish for the sparkling pires
about you
To enfold me as much as the black empires of nights
without you
...

I, the beast, that cry at the heart of a world -in disdain
That so solemnly and plainly doth dwell in pain:
To hurt one so in one’s core -
Where Love doth dwell evermore,
...

Aven Black Biography

I am a Goth. There is no visible doubt about that. Yet what others may see or hear in my words are completely up to them. I can construct or destroy you. Or neither. This would be solely your responsibility. It is in these terms that I think and write. See destruction and tears and you'll find them. See beauty and empathy, and you'll find that aswell. I have been writing amateurly since 2001. It started as a tool for me for escapism. Soon I grew fond of writing short stories and working on ideas for novels aswell. Yet throughout all my unfinished projects, the only thing that has remained constantly flowing is my appreciation for beautiful compositions of words. This seems to come to me through poetry the easiest. I like dark and emotion-driven writing. Hand-held, first person experiences. Often when a poem is in the third person of mine, it seems to be more opinion-based. Yet my opinion is my own, and I never expect others to respect it for it's opinion. The thing is, I see a poem the same way I see a photograph. Some moments in life you choose to like, others you don't. I don't have much to say about the origins of my writing. They come from very different places in very different times of my own life. But I will say this: everything in life -I have noticed- starts with an idea; the rest is a domino effect of choices.)

The Best Poem Of Aven Black

Intro (Excerpt From 'Untitled')

This rival of
Mindspace,
Perception,
and Fate
drives the soul,
The Touch, irate.
this mortal web, of thought
spun from the breast.
its taint lay
within The Spider -therefor Its nest.
Lo!
deny the stream,
the current may...
deny the night, itself,
from day...
lest,
see you and I
as bodies away.
In this communion:
We, the I
and
I, the We.
Cast forth, countless solid eyes and see!
Send forth, endless earthen hands and touch!
In this encompassment:
We, the I
and
I, the We.
Wherefor is it then not
that he could see
the Knot within him
like
the plot within the
Story?
'The Story? '
The story he
himself
has placed...

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