With great disdain I strain my soul
To pass what it can’t reach
Measured not by time or love,
But measured by my grief
Upon a viscous ground I stand,
Outspoken in belief
In art and soul; my heart, I’ve told,
To practice what you preach.
A NumbA numb
Overtakes the senses
I am awake
Within my sleeping self
Even in slumber
The brain is active.
I am never free.
I am never free.
Let me guide you through the garden of my thoughts. Where we tilled the land. Where you planted the seed of hope. Where you reaped the benefits as the flowers wilted. Let me guide you.
The ground has become dry.
I’ve run out of tears to shed.
“I trusted you.” I said, observing the withered plot where our love once grew. Your face looked vaguely of remorse. But not enough. “Why couldn’t you have just been honest with me?” No response. “You’re the reason people become callous, you know? You take too much and give too little.”
She thought for a moment. A single tear lingered in her eye, then dropped heavy to the ground. It soaked the
Crash against the rocks
Runs through my fingers
I can’t remember the sun anymore
I can’t remember feelings
I can’t remember
The darkest tides pull me out to sea
Far from the island
Far from all I’ve known
The black has never been so vibrant.
I wail for the truth I’ve left
I cry for the lost
Begging it will wake me
Is this real?
Please let this end.
Please let this end.
I find myself washed up
On the rocks
Fighting my way
Among jagged boulders
Salty air grips my lungs
And my fears circle like vultures
I search for the sun.
Had I been away so long?
Oozes from my hands
I climb higher.
Faltering along the way
Hell bent to reach the summit
I climb higher.
Blind to pain
I climb higher.
Red on onyx
Flesh on stone
I climb higher.
I reach the peak
I see everything.
To The DarkTo the dark that guides my hand
As I slip into sleep
And spurs me into unknown lands
My dreams, there for to reap
I’ve never once regretted
The coercion of your acts
As we lie silhouetted
Moonlight smeared across our backs
But note that your enticing
Is not what made me weak
But rather my uncompromising
Hunt for visions I would seek
For in the vast enormities
Of my unconscious mind
Awake the horrors no one sees
I thought I’d left behind
You see, it wasn’t you that laid the bait
That trapped me in your cell
For I have always sat in wait
To fight my way through Hell.
The Spoken and heard
Said and meant
Present and seen
With and without
Waiting in the wings
Changing its mask
To suit your mood
Of the words that
Through the cracks
Only to be picked up later
Forced into a
Of subtle glances
And false smiles
And personal assurances
Of things that have
The pauses in phrasing
lack of emotion
They stalk you, in the wilds of your
In the valleys of your
Sequestered on the shores of
Narcissism and Timidity
The Monster [Where Were You?]I am entombed
in a sepulcher
Of bones and flesh
Of lies and betrayal
Of expectations and failure
Of all the former lives I’ve led
And any word that I’ve ever dared utter
My feet strain against what feels like it can only be
I struggle to keep up while this
Robs my heart of all
I fight a monster while both hands are tied behind my back
It claws and creeps closer,
Licking its lips,
Savoring the taste of its own desire,
It jabs and pierces my heart
With poison daggers.
And all the while my fears watch,
Sitting in box seats
DucklingsWith bodies buoyant as a boat,
Effortless the ducklings float.
I feel such envy from within;
They’ll never have to sink or swim.
Brick by BrickBrick
Blocking the world,
Behind our eyes,
Beyond even the slightest
But could we ever dream of more?
A Ghost Walks My HallsA ghost walks my halls…
He calls, but I can’t hear him
He claws, but I can’t feel him
He falls, and yet I catch him
Dust him off and I inspect him
As he coughs I start to question
His resolve in haunting me.
Could it be that this old specter
Had run out of options better
Resigned to inconsequential
Haunting those who don’t believe?
(The “those” there meaning me)
I sit him down for tea.
“Spirit,” at length I started,
Quite polite to the departed,
“Could it be you’re broken-hearted,
Or just seeking some relief?
Perhaps there’s grief that you once suffered
That requires you to cover
All the floorboards of my hallway
And deprive me of my sleep…”
The specter did not speak.
“Spirit, once again I ask,
Why is it you’ve crossed my path
And left an empty casket
To meander round my keep?
Do you weep to be remembered?
Are you just a burning ember,
All that’s left of mortal coil,
That dares not to yiel
A Momentary DescentWith limited ease
Through the crevasse
And though he had,
That he’d been alone
It was only now, in this
That he realized his fears had come to fruition
His suspicion confirmed
Upon further inspection
He noticed the mouths of several tunnels
Each branching in a different direction
And after brief reflection
Of the journey so far
Jagged stones protruded into his path
But did little to delay his intrusion.
He pushed further into the darkness
Until he had to struggle just to see his hands before his face.
The momentary descent ached
With every fiber of his being,
He had bee
The old man in the park There's an old man sitting on a bench in the park.
A scruffy dog by his feet, on his lips a witty remark.
Not a tooth in his mouth, but he smiles anyway.
And if you ask him why, this is what he will say:
“I have a song in my head, and a smile on my face.
I have lived a full life of both sorrow and grace.
I have love so plenty, and stories to share.
And I live my life without a worry or care.”
His wrinkles are a map of a long, lasting life.
Of hard work, three sons, and a now deceased wife.
His hearing may be bad, and his vision turning grey.
But if you ask him, this is what he will say:
“I have seen my share of wonders, my friend
And I will hear the songs in my heart to the end.
So what need have I for these senses, I ask?
If they fail me, my memories shall rise to the task.”
The old dog by his side gives a soft little whine.
Licking his hand as if to tell him it is time.
He smiles and stands, shakes my hand for goodbye.
Then wanders off with a twink
The Enemies (Poem)
Once upon a time that wasn't so upon,
There were two foolish, angry men
Who hated there wasn't much then
To hate and wish that all was gone.
Human nature led them down
Errant paths that were ridden with
Caustic thorns and toxic myths
And caused them both to drown.
There were two; and one stood tall
With veins of salt and words of ice,
A gifted charm that wore a price
And lost him in the fray's final fall.
The other wore his temper around
His neck in a ring of gracious fire,
And it so came to preside his ire
To turn and return him to the ground.
There has never been such ill will
As between these spiteful foes.
Countless vies history knows,
And that shall lead them to the kill.
Oh!; You have never seen such a sight!
Water and fire strike in ferocious flash!
The world around them flares to ash
And the shadows deplete the light!
Monsters entangle in violent sin,
Crimson and liquid trespass to
Elemental death and earthly coup!
How can this end when it cannot begin?
Rainstorms and firestorm
Reaching Out To Sanity
I can hear the music,
playing in my head...
That brick wall melody,
that leaves me dry and bled.
Back out, unsound, way past
The naive embrace,
clutched like the withering vine,
so doubted in commonplace.
That sorrowful harmony,
with mysterious limbs
running like mad
through my mind, so dim with fog.
In my wake do I hear that music
of the morbid and downtrodden sound...
Sweet, the symphony of my imagination...
the chaos, although so profound.
Stained, my face with the misery
Of this occupation of thought,
not much, yet the burdens are stiff
within the acidic net, am I forever caught.
An Oath to My Father
An Oath to My Father:
The chill of winter is nothing, when compared to the cold inside my heart.
A fire, once stoked by the warmth of family, has quietly died, five falls past.
I dream of my father, who watches from beyond the realms - and my ancestors
Who fought against an endless army of giants, to win the lands we have today.
Just as a devout man honours his God through worship, I honour them through my axe!
Each stroke of the whetstone, each screech of the metal, brings me closer to them -
Even as I draw closer to my doom. Oh how I can feel him, for the anger in my blood
Boils evermore as I sense him approaching my camp. He is hungry, he is eager;
Slacks of drool hang from his twin mouths, as a jarring roar shakes the mountain!
Though I shiver at the sight, it is not from fear - I shiver in anticipation
Of the battle that is to come. My steel may rend his flesh and break his bones;
Or perhaps I shall be sent to glory - but it is useless to think about such things,
Lifes Bond..A promise pledged, a promise made
A life is shared, a future laid
Two to meld, where once was one
Beneath blue skies, or summer sun
So much is learnt when we do give
To guide another's life to live
Bringing joy and comfort close
In times of trouble, when needed most
Seeing from anothers view
Enabling love that can be true
Walking paths, both side by side
A smooth but sometimes rocky ride
Memories made along the way
Pressed between our night and day
To pass to family that we bear
To show them that we always care
Without, which time, within this place
would hold no meaning, or a face
To see that love does hold the key
Creating generations of you and me..
It's never too lateYou will have been dead fifteen years tomorrow,
and yet not once have I visited your grave.
I was always busy; there was always time
to see you, to make amends. And yet, I feel
it's all a sham. I could make time, but I fear
the truth. It's easier to believe my lies.
If I went, I'd see your plot, see how you lie
untroubled, beneath the soil. Your tomorrows
ended many yesterdays ago. No fears
to face, no debts to pay. No decisions grave
to weigh your brow. Not like your son. How I feel
the heaviness of this life. There's too much time
and not enough. Lives end every day. It's time
to stop hiding from the pain. My future lies
along a path you've helped me walk. I can feel
your touch in everything I do. Tomorrow
is too late, sometimes. It shall not be graved
into history that I gave into fear.
For too long I feel I've lived a life of fear,
of caution, of safety, and, and yet such times
I had. Oh dad, you'd be turning in your grave
if you saw the choices that I made that lie
The Forward Movement
Tragedy, abrupt to my very soul,
that left me far from whole.
The withered memory born unto my dreams again,
refreshed and once more binding me by chain.
The reopening scars I once upon a time, thought healed,
gape wide to open for the flood gates, red and revealed.
My witnessing eyes bleed out old tears from a rusted well,
Attempting again to put back out the fires of this age old Hell.
The rising waters find my feet and climb,
the two floods meet, where their cause is rhymed.
My heart from which the blood and tears flow,
now at where the pain does ever grow.
Close these outpouring wounds, build back up the walls...
Make for my feet, the forward movement from where my future calls.
Once again I will shed my skin,
leaving behind the marks of where I've been.