Poet Introduction I write about what I know. Emotional, confessional words. I guess sometimes it can be quite depressive or macabre stuff, but I don't see it as such. Anyway, when was there ever a happy poet?
Timeless irreverence Spiraling light and lust- continuing endlessly. Doing the dance of a million steps done so stoically before. Patchwork patterned trysts, left Unsaid, unscorched, unfettered by the apex of time.
Sharp beauty under a pebble- in the cusps of a swaying leaf. I sit silently- gazing intently at the willow tree outside the window. Rocking merrily in the wind Slowly waltzing its smooth, sedate steps to the melodies of a tranquil life.
Once inside I'm greeted by The cold of the rooms Something missing than before And an emptiness Deeper than bone. I thought I would be proud- screaming independence aloud and with my might. Overbearing with force But reality is- nothing but the closing of, a chipped wooden door. With no footfalls on the floor to remind me of a love I'm too scared to mourn.
These times takes their toll, cutthroat heaven stealing away a silhouette. She will never be here nor be her, ...
Do not despair These are only words It would be unfair To unburden this world Feet high off the ground Would only hurt them Or maybe just her.
So I'll continue to dream Such slivers of light Won't warm nor beam Into hopeless night This rotten, unclean Crackled, glass suit Will remain Earthbound Not the Fallen's recruit Whilst it withers with time Creaks under boot And shivers of mine Are frozen at last For when they are gone
I don't wish to recall Nor pine to remember Remove the recant I won't hold those words Even at arms length. Wretched reminisce, are Rancid restarts Living for a short-term life Or is it a long-form lie? No steps to retrace I've forgotten those walks Relish the relief Of a life untold, Unspoken, unthought Un-anaylse the roads Unburdened isn't unhappy. Or am I incomplete Cowardly and meek To seek to be blind Eyes closed are the weak.
I could never beg to be anything more; Not once a speck of light Nor hope In these days of darkened rain Almost one year has passed But moments seem to stutter Holding only pain With each sharp intake of breath Not life, but the loss of your love Such a cruel dichotomy That once more round the sun Grips of anguish strangle so firm Surrounded by your eyes In these haunted holes How do these days Turn greyer still When I have heard of the cushion Of time
Eyelids lift Again- slowly, groggily Surrounded by mounds Of dust- and me Sleep brought on the monsters But light holds nothing at all. Blood engulfs me Patchwork patterns Blackened lines, keeping me crooked and curved. Shortened nails don't suffice Hours of unconsciousness Can't numb me, as I succumb To ragged sheets of gore. Sleeping to escape Waking to a hollowness Simple words can not Hold firm. I cannot walk, wretched pins Of a corpse. I cannot talk, broken words Of a ghost. I...
The snow has passed Such slivers can be seen Through windows to the green And the blues at a distance Wild winds have ceased Spinning dancers in the still; Never has a bird sung so sweetly From the bars of a brightened cage When even entombed joy exists How can peace not follow. The rain will return On a day sometime soon This light just a memory Until then my soul sways carelessly- With the knowledge of today.