Requiem and Revelation

By Andrew Marheine

"Requiem and Revelation" is a collection of poetry that I began writing at sixteen. It includes three "chapters" to cover the general feelings of both hatred and love, while the third reflects my story poems. This collection in particular has several of my most "famous" pieces on the various websites that I have used since trying to get my work out there to anyone who cares to read. The collection's content itself holds, I guarantee, some of the most brutal, depressing, happy, and beautiful images you could ever put in to words and change to picture. I hope you enjoy.
- Andrew

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Marheine
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310096235

Andrew Marheine

My name is Andrew Marheine.

Book preview

Requiem And Revelation.

Andrew P. Marheine

Copyright 2014 Andrew P. Marheine

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Part 1: Love. Loss. Heartache.

Part 2: Misery. Hate. Depression.

Part 3: Stories.

About Andrew Marheine

Other Titles By Andrew Marheine

Connect with Andrew Marheine

License Notes

Part 1: Love. Loss. Heartache.

For My Mother.

What is dusk, but the promise of dawn?

Where all of the wrongs shall be undone,

Your love, the eternal flower of purity

Your heart, an epicenter of sincerity

-

No failure made

Where knowledge hadn’t come

A sweet serenade

Of your love behind, sung

-

The furious creature in me

By you always calmed

Your word, in my heart

True as psalms.

-

Were I growthed different

Who would I be?

I'd rather not think it

For shall it ne’er matter to me

-

Your tolerance

For my mistakes unknown

And your pride no matter

For How I have grown

-

When I seek silence,

When I think mineself a cur,

Feeling you with me

My creature doth purr

-

My questions ever answered

Your back never turned

When young and asleep in your loving arms,

Could not a soul me stirred.

-

So ever after and always

Will I remain here for thee,

My death only bothersome,

If I let you alone be.

For R.M.

For what I know, which is not much,

I know not of what you feel and such,

But if I could be better a brother,

I would ask what makes you shudder,

I know not what causes your pain,

But I know you’ll not be here again,

So in this life, be strong, be strong,

And although I cannot carry along,

What I wish I could, I’m not that good,

At expressing all that of which I should,

Know that my love extends to you,

And your indescribable heart imbued,

Keep it between us, I know what it is,

To cause yourself pain, and taste your own tears,

I wish life was easy, alas, it is not,

Lose not yourself, don’t let be forgot,

The life you know, I pray you don't,

I had no idea, of pain you smote,

To it cast out all of the remorse,

And if need, come to me, if no other doors,

Reopen for you although they should,

If need of favor, know that I would,

As brother, as friend, be there until,

Your happy, long life, end fulfilled,

I wish to be an uncle, and brother in law,

To a great man you deserve and more,

Lest it not be pain from a boy,

You are but young, they’ll use you like toys,

Be strong, be strong, our family is love,

Spread your wings, magnificent dove.

For M.M

I know for a fact,

So yield to react,

That you birthed into a beautiful girl

A bright orange bird in a bleak, grey world,

And to all the fondness I hide inside,

You know for you both, I would have died,

For you and any reason, all loss of control,

So long as you're happy, my life is full,

I know sometimes we don't get on,

But we've never had a darkest dawn.

I am for you, always here,

I hope that you speak with ne'er a fear,

We bleed the same, but it's more than that,

My love for you spans higher than mountains, to be exact.

I must be straight and not play with my words,

I am excited to watch you grow up, you gorgeous orange bird.

Measuring Success.

For My Father.

How does one measure success?

How does one see to their progress?

Imagine a meter, a scale if you will,

That draws upon your goals fulfilled,

You may ask how it can be found,

But you alone can find this profound

Tool to help yourself,

Or maybe ask one trusted for their loving help,

A Father, a Mother, a Sister, or Brother,

Friends also will help one another,

But I digress, may I press on,

I lull along again anon.

-

When you first come across a thing,

A noun, a verb, somewhere, something,

That causes happiness derived from its action,

Regardless of what form or faction,

Stick with, and to, whatever it be,

Remember all things come with a fee,

But the price on joy is well worth paying,

Because joy is just as a child playing,

You will know over the course of this endeavor,

Whether you will or won't your said success sever,

But if in years, it still brings you joy,

You will be engulfed in your own ploy,

Measuring the success of whatever you will,

Comes to you with whatever fills,

That which you wake for, live and breathe,

For what you might go as far as deceive,

-

Nothing is measured in paper, and coin,

Or shouldn't be, rather, it should be conjoined,

With what brings you love, and no contempt to perform,

For what becomes you like a wailing storm,

That shudders the shutters of your life in a box,

What crinkles in your head like rocks,

It keeps you awake like Christmas Eve,

It is that, that your mind does need,

Into oblivion, and imagination,

A place that holds no indignation,

We feel for the things we love,

Therefore it is impossible to measure it of

Coin, and papers, and letters given,

To any of us, for any reason.

-

Measure it rather inside yourself,

Then you will gain what you befell,

Life does have its ups and downs,

But that's no reason to run around,

Aimlessly worried you'll find nothing,

Of which you love, there is something,

Always look for what causes you no rest,

And then perhaps you can measure your success.

Atticus.

You will be missed, friend,

Yet your life has just begun,

You are forever.

Cherry Blossom.

The petal falls free

The tree has lost a lone child

With this, Winter comes.

Untitled.

In my heart there grows an ache

Its pain ever harder to take

And in this misanthropic misery,

where my words, static, fail me

it has deepened the darkened chasm,

the heartstrings snapped and broken,

never to fully heal to harmony

without your serenade, I am nothing.

Writing.

Inspiration derives from the evocation of thought

symbolism, at times, can be cataclysm for the mind

and yet when one looks to be inspired,

until they are weary and tired,

when the earth’s ends,

can hold no trends,

they find themselves incapable,

and often times improbable,

of complimenting anything,

while criticizing everything,

and God forbid they stop and think

and look at it as a human being,

and as their ship begins to sink

a blast of thought comes after seeing

the black from scribing

eroded with the wind rising,

off the shores of the brain

to a vocabulary train,

delivering written ammunition,

after being petitioned,

and so the gallant author-knight,

the reader-maiden’s arousing delight,

with his holy-tipped sword of ink

slays the scroll dragon in a blink

lawfully fixated,

and well compensated,

they sit back relieved,

finished with what had them aggrieved

until a source of new light,

causes rupturing delight!

Love And Sorrow.

Sorrow sweeps

And sorrow swoons

Sorrow decays

the summer blooms,

Love corrupts

Love purifies

Love lights up

Until you die

Sorrow strikes

Swing trapezes high,

Sorrow croons

Tears pierce the eye,

Love rots slowly,

Like a corpse,

Love takes no prisoners,

Love shows no remorse.

Forgotten.

Forever: it is not a word I know,

Its bounding aches, its tugging groans,

Whereof I speak, thou knowest not,

My mem’ry fleeting, forlorn and rot,

Because this is of tales of my naught,

I live on only to be here, forgot.

-

I have saved the life of a child who shall never know my name,

The love I had for my Love, doth she not want to feel again,

I’ve fought for allies, only to now be believed of conspiracy

I’ve liberated my beliefs, only to now be under new tyranny.

I may die any day here, perhaps with the coming sunset,

But in my name and mem’ry, a candle forgotten to be lit.

Time is mortally timeless in this solipsistic reign,

I write my tragedies knowing not a person will feel the same.

-

The ghosts of faces taunt me in my regretful sleep,

Begrudging me to hide my face from all distaste and weep,

Although this feeling flourishes in this daunting midnight air,

The daylight only brings me knowledge of my true despair.

For even my children, even if I were to have them now,

Would forget my name also, I’d be but a whisper upon a cloud.