No working Title, A Short Story by The Dark Poet Byron

Chapter 1 . A False Start

Moonlight falls on barren streets as Michael walks under the street lights. The club is far from his flat in Stellenbosch. Too far for a tipsy person to walk but hey, its not like he is bothered. He sparks up a smoke and he makes his way down the road. Little did he know that this would be the last time his nights would be so calm.
Deep in thought as he walks. He hears a low rumbling coming from behind him. The cold morning air strikes his lungs as his cellphone lights up his face saying three am. He ignores the rumbling at his back. Who ever it is can just pass him, its not like he cares. Its coming closer. Growing ever louder. Michael is swaying in the middle of the road without a care in the world, The brakes screech behind him as a white VW Golf Gti plows into him at 90km/h.
Michael is barely aware as he flies over the windshield, smashing his head with a clean gash and lands 4 meters behind the car. A young woman jumps out of the car and runs to him screaming and shaking him. He slips in and out of consciousness as the woman frantically dials Nedcare 911, whispering gently in his ear. “Everything is gonna be okay. I’m here.” Blue and red lights fill the street as Michael is prepped and loaded inside the the ambulance. The young lady sitting at his side crying gently on his arm. The paramedic ask the young lady her name and she responds. “ My name is Amy, my name is Amy.”
Amy sits in the waiting room as the ER team tries desperately to save Michael’s life. His heart beat is faint but it s steady. She says a silent prayer for this stranger she hit in the dead of night. “Please don’t let him die, God, please don’t let him die.” After about three nerve racking hours the sun creeps through the veil of night and lights up Amy’s tear filled eyes as the doctor emerges from the ER. He walks over to Amy and says, “He is gonna live.” Amy runs over to the room that housed Michael’s broken body and sighs a great sence of relief.
Michael’s eyes are sore as he tries to open them as the sunlight falls into his room. He sees a young blue eyed girl sitting at his bedside. He stutters to talk. His mouth is so dry. He asks her name. “ Excuse me, who are you Miss?” The girl looks up and with tears in her eyes she says. “ Hi, my name is Amy, you were in a car accident last night.” Michael stunned by the honest tears flowing from her eyes. Stares deeply without speaking.
He takes her hand and says.” I forgive you, Amy. Because as I see you now, I am mesmerized.” Amy squeezes Michael’s hand tighter and says. “ We who met in screeching night. Were meant to meet this very night.” The sunlight fell on them both as they stared, silent and peaceful. Caught in a moment they never wanted to leave…..

If I kissed an Angel, A Poem By The Dark Poet Byron

If I kissed an Angel
a lady born of grace
would she bind my dreams forever
like a dancer in a trance

If a dreamer kissed an Angel
And held her hand in mine
Would she save my soul forever
Or let me swim in tear filled eyes

If a Poet kissed an Angel
And held her through the night
Could we dance in light forever
So romantic in the night

If an Angel kissed a soldier
And saved his very life
Will I kiss her like a flower
that is dancing in the light

So i sow these words dear dreamer
and i mean them as i write
If a Poet kissed an angel it would change her very life.

The Dark Poet Byron

The Cross I Bare, A Poem By The Dark Poet Byron

I stand before a burning road
and all i see are seething souls
As i am just a fallen man
who walks a path of burning sand

I watch the world as sunlight fades
and fire breathes on poisoned air
I shed the tears of a cursed man
For I bare a cross, with broken legs

And as the whips slash at my flesh
and scorch my soul with deep regret
I think of all the things i said
and bare myself to the black rain

And as they nail me to the cross
and drive those nails into my heart
I shed my tears of heart felt grief
For being so lost from destiny

For all the love that i once bared
became the nails that made my end
So crucifixion means my end
as soldiers die for love they had.

The Dark Poet Byron

We are free to chose our fate. But do not be consumed by it or it will mean your end. as it has been mine.

A new year

I cant believe i'm awake today
to think 48 hours ago i was bleeding myself to death.
still alive, still awake
Life is a beautiful rose i dont seem to get
I pondered my fate trying to understand meaning in my mistakes
but there is no meaning only regret.

I stand a man who survived his stupidity.
and face this world alone again, That is my purpose.
the reason for my gilded verse.

I am The Dark Poet
The One who stands when others run.
And my words are eternal.

The Day My Light Fails, a poem by The Dark Poet Byron

The Day My Light Fails

my life is a book on which my memories are written
everyday i take a page and briskly read through it
last night i lost myself in a tale that told my life.
there once was a beacon that i could follow through the night
a glimpse of a lady that could lead me through nocturnal life

in my pursuit of my purpose, the simple beacon fell away
with the loss of this light my dreams just seemed to die
i cannot get it back and for that i gave my life
the poet had to give in to the darkness growing inside

his light just slipped away and it buried him in turn
this nameless faceless beauty that just robbed him of his soul
the days now just pass by as he mimics living life

he simply cant escape
he is a prisoner of his mind

An Original Poem By The Dark Poet Byron

A broken Life, A Poem By The Dark Poet Byron

How do u measure a lifetime of dreams
with heart and soul lost in autumn fields

a life in dreams a futile quest
lost forever in seas of regret
This dark poet marches agaisnt the armys of fate

a prisoner of life, and a soldier of fate
the poet escapes to the cell in his head
safe from the silence that haunts his fallen mind

so how do you measure the worth of a life?
lost in translation, a poets darkned mind.
so he writes to save his broken life
and to teach others his chosen style

He longs to forgive his broken dreams
and alow himself to be free.

An Original Dark Poet Poem
The Dark Poet Byron

The Last March of a Dark Poet, By Byron Coetzee

I looked inside and saw the truth
the truth is that i have no soul
black as night this poet's heart
no shield of armour to gaurd his heart

he now feels nothing, no sence of worth
Its strange he feels no pain anymore
he now has peace and thats his truth

that the pain he feels will soon be gone
he cannot change his chosen fate
or bring back the love that changed his life

he does not feel and thats his curse
To never ever feel his soul
he cannot sleep and thats his curse

to be reminded of his joke
the simple hings he meant to say
as simple as to say goodbye

he has no feelings none at all
so off to bed this poet goes
never to feel anything but alone

The Last March of a Dark Poet