Once on a dark morning, at the dawning of Spring,
I sat at my window where no bird would sing
In my dark musty room that I'd come to call home,
in the dread and the stench where all hope was forgone.
On this stagnant spring morning I arose from my sill,
left my demons a'scorning to head for the hill,
to look for the sun, where it bloomed all about
in the grass, in the rocks, and in the wall's dusty grout.
I tore the golden blossoms from the ground where they grew,
and put them in a vase and filled it with dew.
I took them back home to my dungeon of stone,
prisoners I'd keep, sunshine of my own,
to rot on a table, and light up my space,
to share in my misery, bringing smiles to my face.
I gave them my love. I gave them affection,
for in their short life span, we shared a connection.
We were all flowers in a dusty rotten room
that once reached for the sky before accepting our doom.
Like branches of Daphne, more glorious than Apollo,
the daffodils shone in my sad, grotesque hollow.
And when they had withered, pathetic with hurt
I freed them from their prison and buried them in the dirt.
One year later, while the afternoon is still,
I drive by the daffodils growing on the hill.
How dare I admire them, growing lovely and free?
They are the essence of everything I'm too cowardly to be.
I'm sorry sunshine. I don't deserve you.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 10:58 PM UTC
In my hands
I hold a bottle
Of fire
That burns away
The weight in my chest
Piece by piece
Sip by sip
Hello bottle,
My weapon of choice
On this stormy day
You and I.
Unstoppable
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
The rain falls down
The desert breathes again
And I awake from my slumber
to realize
The ground beneath my feet is gone.
The air is lively
as I left it,
The goddess
lovely as ever
But my feet I cannot find.
Victorious I emerged
From my long summer battle.
The illness is gone.
I've returned to my skin.
But I've forgotten
How to live..
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
They hunted you down on that heavy cold night
They hunted you down on horseback like cowards.
They hunted you down. You were only a boy.
They hunted you down in the forest.
Red was the blood on your face in that nightmare,
Red as the waves in your beautiful hair,
Red was the fire, red was the moon.
Blood red was your shrieking that pierced through the air.
What savage world was this where we lived?
Our beautiful, primitive autumn land
When they bound all mercy and love to the water
Engulfed in the flames of the evil of man.
An inferno broke out from your tender red heart,
As they cruelly sliced open your body in whole
A terror that would forever linger in the trees
The fire of that night forever in your soul.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
I remember now,
What happened in our Autumn.
They took you away...
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
I knew when I walked away in shame
That your world was far away from mine.
Ever so gently she uttered the name
That belonged to my prince divine.
When suddenly I was granted the delight
of being your heart's dark beauty
my body was yours through the long lonely night,
And contented, I gave my wings to thee.
You enjoyed the magic of this broken fairy,
though most of it had been taken.
But yet in all the light, we hadn't been wary
Of the sickness that would soon awaken.
It's precious to me, this golden pixie dust
That I keep locked beneath my wings.
They've ravaged my body, dismembered my trust
To silence the song that it sings.
Who was I to ask you to protect my little box
When you have a treasure trove fit for a king?
Instead I'll stare as you sail away from the docks,
and listen to your ship's bell ring.
I heard its shriek from far away
when I plummeted from the sky
T'is the song it sings to bring you home today
The day I can no longer fly.
Content I will be when I think of my prince
indulging in all his treasures
I must remain here and guard my frail box
pathetic to her trove beyond measure.
it was only but a fantasy, a foolish girl's naiveté,
to think I could share your world.
To think I could deprive you of what you most crave from me
But expect you to guard this pearl.
Thus is the life of a pixie like me,
When I live by self protection.
There will be no knight to guard the gold that they seek,
Only I can create my perfection.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Stay in the shower as long as you want.
Turn the water as hot as you need.
Rub down your body, each crevasse and limb.
keep on scrubbing until you bleed.
You won't get the dirt off.
It's inside.
Strip off your skin and claw out your flesh.
Expose your hidden self underneath.
Run the water over 'till your muscles are sore.
Keep on scrubbing. You won't find relief.
You still won't get the dirt off.
It crawls in your blood.
Pull out your veins. Drain out the tubes.
Let it run dry so you get it all out.
Fill up the tub. You're sure to win now.
But you still haven't realized what this is about.
You won't get the dirt out.
It's inside your head.
Cut open your skull. Pull out your brain.
Amputate every ill-found regret.
Pick open each lobe. Each neuron until
You're sure that it's over, you'll finally forget.
But you'll never get the dirt out.
You're already dead.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
At first the moment's rather fair,
Not stolid nor extreme.
You're focused on some parcel
of habitual routine.
Light heartedly you go about,
not the slightest thing awry,
but alas, here comes that
creeping,
crawling,
plotting..
and you repeat that ritual lie:
"There is no creeping crawling inside,
just focus on your task.
it's only but a thought you have the power to deny,
Don't mind it, it will pass."
You go about your business,
but you begin to pick up the pace
as the colloquial chore becomes
An all consuming race.
You then commence to
huff and gasp
for extra air your body needs
But you dreadfully realize you're not going to last
The murk has already planted its seed.
When did the shadows that lurk in your room
become such fast-growing creatures?
From where came the armor and weapons galore
That embellish their terrifying features?
When did your fingers begin to quiver and shake
10 minutes ago you didn't regret being awake,
But now you cannot stand,
your chest has turned to sand,
Panic begins to band
With all the wretchedness of the land
And you cannot understand
how you became so weak at the hands
of the unmerciful demands
For entertainment of this cursed, wicked, sinister, unrelenting horror that is not woman nor man!
but then all falls silent. The stillness grows.
That dark cloud of defeat encircles your throat
And you know
That you have lost.
Abandoned.
No one came.
You've pleaded to them. You've cried out their name.
but it was one of a million. The end is the same.
At first the moment's rather fair.
Sedated. Inextreme.
This unpassive, smothered bliss is now your prevalent routine.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
The autumn spirit gazes through a piercing embrace
From the two hazel stones that gleam from his face.
Welcoming is his smile, a cool breeze of gentle fashion,
Warm is his familiar touch with the bonfires of his passion.
Sometimes his sky would be a storm of early winter rain,
The chill would freshen the soft caress of the morning light that came.
He's followed me throughout my life in my head,
Among the oak trees near a Celtic homestead.
In the western world we would stand in the leaves
Watching the sunset, from our hill to the East.
Sweet were the cheers that embellished his laugh,
like the smell of spiced pumpkin that cooked down the path.
All the sunshine's rays that lit the gold in his hair
Could not reflect the depth of fresh mystery in his air.
Of Gaia's many wonders, treasures, magiks, all,
None of her euphorias have graced me like the fall.
For when all of life was dying, making way for birth anew,
I found that old familiar song. Once more I have found you.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
Just another moment of day
Clanking a baseball bat on concrete.
Life isn't going away
Nor is it coming. Just Sitting. Resting
In the sun
How long ago was time passed the same way
Just clanking a baseball bat on concrete?
A child, on the porch after school.
Are we any wiser?
Are we any older?
If my years are draining, it's very discrete.
Maybe we should decide to live for a change
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC