C.L. Andistein

C.L. Andistein One of the many new goth poets who joined Chapter V I was on the original slate, changed mind & back

06/06/2026

Way too Much Weight

I woke beneath a weight unnamed,
A silence pressing on my chest,
No chains in sight, no wound to blame,
Yet every breath refused its rest.

The world moved on without my say,
A river I could never swim,
I watched my hours decay to gray,
While light itself grew faint and dim.

My hands—once builders of intent—
Hung useless at my hollow side,
Each thought dissolved before it went,
Each spark of will untimely died.

I spoke, but language would not stay,
It fractured into broken air,
A voice that wandered far astray
And never found a soul to hear.

There was no enemy to fight,
No beast to name, no war to wage,
Just endless dusk devouring light
Inside a self-made, formless cage.

Time mocked me with its steady pace,
Each second struck like quiet doom,
I could not flee, I could not face
The creeping rot within the room.

I begged for fire, for rage, for pain—
For anything to prove I lived,
But numbness fell like endless rain,
And nothing more was ever given.

The mirror showed a fading ghost,
A figure blurred, undone, erased,
A body present at its post
With absence written on its face.

I dreamed of strength I used to know,
Of moments carved in sharper days,
But dreams dissolved before they'd grow—
Like ash that drifts and fades away.

And so I linger, still and bound,
Not by the world, but by my own—
A quiet void without a sound,
Too weak to fall, too lost to groan.

©2026 CLA

Where the Foundations ListenThey raised their halls on patient earth, where wind once carried older names, and roots r...
06/05/2026

Where the Foundations Listen

They raised their halls on patient earth,
where wind once carried older names,
and roots remember what was placed
beneath the weight of borrowed stone.

No map records the first design,
no cornerstone confesses truth—
but soil does not forget the shape
of those returned without a voice.

The bells ring out across the green,
yet something answers from below,
not in sound, but in the pause
between each measured toll.

At dusk, the pathways bend too far,
as if avoiding unseen ground,
and footsteps echo out of time
with rhythms not their own.

In archives sealed with careful hands,
ink fades where certain names should rest,
as though the page itself resists
the telling of what came before.

Dreams come easier in these rooms,
but none awaken as they slept—
for whispers gather at the edge
of thought not meant to open.

They do not rage, nor seek to claim,
but linger in a deeper way,
like breath held long within the earth
awaiting rightful exhale.

And every year, new voices rise,
unaware of what they stand upon—
yet still the ground beneath them listens,
and does not sleep.

©2026 ©CLA

*-note the University was destroyed due to its hauntings and there is now a park. The park from it's history where read it ended it's reign after 173 years which it's been gone for almost 150 years if my math is correct.

06/05/2026

My Bio: As C.L. Andystein in which the spelling is actually with the Y and not the I gotta love the autocorrect!! Calvin Love is what it stands for my parents favorite people from back and characters from the movies they love and President they knew then or just loved the name or carries down. I just never asked. I live in Haven, Connecticut I put Haven instead of New Haven since I am a science geek & love the show. I was born 3/12/01 and now I I believe I am the youngest for Chapter V!! Just hit 25 a few months ago. I love Lovecraft more than the guys I write with and that I went to Meskatonic University which is one of the oldest unknown universities in the USA! Started in 8/16/1690 & it ended on 2/1/1843 due to hauntings that increased really badly scaring the college students. Be ready for my wild writing compared to fellow brethren since I am younger with provocative prose of poetry.

06/05/2026

Ex Cineribus Surgo (Reborn)


From broken shadow I whisper,
the ashes breathe my name,
the silence of ancient fire
wakes within my bones.

I was not, yet I was before night,
hidden beneath the skin of the world,
where time devours itself
and false light flees.

I fell without memory,
into a bottomless abyss,
where the old gods sleep
under the weight of oblivion.

IV.
I heard a voice beneath the ash,
not human, not divine,
but the broken tongue of chaos
calling me to ruin.

V.
My body was burned,
yet my soul did not cease,
like a serpent from its old skin
seeking form again.

VI.
My blood learned fire,
and fire learned my name,
burning in an eternal circle
without beginning, without end.

VII.
From my bones, shadow sprouts,
and shadow becomes my flesh,
new yet ancient at once,
a form without origin.

VIII.
My eyes drink the stars,
turn darkness into light,
where truth is shattered
in an infinite mirror.

IX.
I cry out with no heard voice,
through worlds without number,
and the answer always comes
from myself, yet чуждый.

X.
I am not the same who fell,
nor entirely another,
but a fracture between worlds,
between life and nothingness.

From the ashes I rise again,
not redeemed, but changed,
like fire that consumes itself
and yet never dies.

And if I fall again into night,
the ashes will bear me again,
for the end is the beginning
within the burning circle.

©CLA, I Rise Above To Be Reborn in a new name and for that I write long poem for my new followers to follow my cryptic dark poems of the Ethereal...

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New Haven, CT

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