Poem from "DIABLO II"

I have walked the path; the shadowed roads
that led to terrors breast. I have plumbed the depths of
Hatred's womb and scaled Destruction's crest.

For every secret left unveiled, for every power learned,
I'd sell the remnants of my soul, regardless how it burned.
And still I sought a higher wisdom few could have attained.
'Though I found it, it would have left me - broken, damned and drained.

For now I find this power gained is more unto a curse.
My spirit burns with every spell and each irreverent verse.
Despite this strength and knowledge earned, I have paid a heavy toll,
Never should've traded power for my own immortal soul.

Days
phillip larkin

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Money

- phillip larkin

Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me: 
"Why do you let me lie here wastefully? 
I am all you never had of goods and sex, 
You could get them still by writing a few cheques." 

So I look at others, what they do with theirs: 
They certainly don't keep it upstairs. 
By now they've a second house and car and wife: 
Clearly money has something to do with life 

- In fact, they've a lot in common, if you enquire: 
You can't put off being young until you retire, 
And however you bank your screw, the money you save 
Won't in the end buy you more than a shave. 

I listen to money singing. It's like looking down 
From long French windows at a provincial town, 
The slums, the canal, the churches ornate and mad 
In the evening sun. It is intensely sad.

The Demons

-EPILOGUEOFYOUTH

They caress my wounds

With handfuls of salt,

They offer to me the golden cup,

Compel me to drink;

It is filled with the acid

Of the care they feign.

It is the touch of the love they hold

Before me, warm and red,

The love that laughs into me.

Beautiful and unfulfilling, it asks,

That I hold it tightly.

But the demons will not allow

That I have comfort within.

They see me grasp like a child

To something I can never have –

My grip is my soul;

We are too weak.

An icy caress and

We part,

The demons are watching,

And they laugh –

It is a sound reminiscent

Of the murmurs of happiness

I must never be allowed.

A petrified scream

Fades to a sigh.

I am alone again, the demons

Are content;

They touch me upon the shoulder

And provide me the hope

That they know

Destroyed me so long ago.