Sometimes on the interstate at night,
when there are blurs of reds, oranges,
and fading light,
I weep in the dark,
along the mountain highways,
I used to pass,
over hills and valleys,
to express love at last.
I have given up on love,
on waiting for sweet comfort,
for a gentle hand in return,
instead I grip tightly to
the remaining coals that burn,
deeper than my tear stained
cheeks,
deeper than the muddy mountain creeks,
overflowing my heart so the hurt could be lost within.
I wish for a moment of time,
once again,
when my name on your lips was
sweet,
like the memories,
not soiled,
but treasured, the way a child is held at his mothers breast,
so gently cradled,
even if stillborn.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 2:22 AM UTC
I saw you pour him out,
break his fragile shell,
with hungry, greedy
snatching needy fingers.
His green and red feathered wings,
held no strength,
and flight?
Not again ever.
You slandered his name,
profane,
each hand breaking a wing,
stepping on the spine,
and slandering,
like one smears paint around a room,
and ignored him when he reached out,
tried to utter words,
but watched him with broken teeth,
and ****** mouth.
Pouring his heart out,
eyes begging for help.
Wings broken
but feathers still held gold,
despite the pain.
Despite the acid rain.
But mercy didn't fit your regime,
nor did it fit your ideal dream,
your beautiful doe eyes,
ignored his cries,
feathered green,
cardinal plumes,
freckles and fumes,
washed away,
in the passing stream,
old candor,
street car fumes,
wickered and gray
I hope you pay.
I hope you pay.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
Thought I would feel better,
something other than numbness,
in the deafened moments,
glass in my mouth,
should feel more?
When there is no elation,
when you spit it out,
splintered bits about,
Am I cursed to be
what I could not believe?
Does it mean anything?
The people I needed,
used me,
the people I pleaded,
bruised me,
till I yielded,
and I gave up.
And when it broke,
it broke deep.
I will not chase those streets any longer,
I will not run after the stick,
instead I will turn and bite,
snarl strong and sick,
knowing:
I would rather die in the fight,
than break and roll over.
So know me now,
teeth glint,
hackles rent,
hell bent,
and unrelenting.
-DM 2018
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
** Warning this poem is not light hearted and deals with feelings of abandonment and the topic of the death of an animal. I am sure there are plenty of other happy poems to read if you're not feeling up to that. Just wanted to give you a fair warning. **
Gasping. The doe.
I watched her bright brown eyes,
noted the dirt and blood matted
in her frosty fur,
copper and frothy breath,
her eyes full and panicked,
she had been crushed and spindled by my
friend's car,
breathing heavy gasps,
escaping clouds like souls,
she lay in sharp white air,
fully aware,
trying to find a breath,
through the brokenness and despair.
I turned away and could not look,
as my friend,
finished her with his knife,
so that she would not suffer more.
Today, I feel as though I am
the car, dented, old lopsided
panels,
dented gray door,
and I am also the deer,
and my whole life,
has been a
crushing force,
of filth
and garbage,
and I see myself gasping,
wishing for someone to be here,
thinking that someone
should love me,
{not just partially}
lying in the snow,
copper from my punctured heart,
crimson upon my lips,
crushed by every flake that falls,
as they drive past,
oblivious and unaware,
that I even exist.
Praying that this suffering won't last,
someone will discover that I am
here.
Someone should love me.
Someone should be here.
Someone should near.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 2:26 AM UTC
I am bleeding profusely,
just below the surface.
These memories like razors,
are scars hidden in the sleeves of my hoodie,
that I crave to show you,
but can never reveal.
War-zones within,
have taken a toll on my
soul. ( sorrow is real )
This sentimental shrapnel,
I feel below the surface of my skin,
protruding like emotional tin,
purchases my silence,
formulated like science.
When others grow full,
my belly still aches
for honey,
hunger pangs are funny,
like the kicks of a bull.
How long,
will You turn your eyes
away from me?
The Prophet said,
"I've never seen the sons of the righteous go hungry"
but I starve week to week.
Rescue me,
before I draw too far away,
lost in the dark and bleak.
Bleeding out profusely,
waiting to be fed.
(C) DM 2017
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC
Selle, I feel you in my
memory,
and I curse this crush,
no one but I know,
I feel.
But feeling does not dictate doing.
It hurts to realize I will never
be a star in your sky,
but I will still shine for you,
with darling tenderness,
even
when tears fall-
even though there
are others,
I ache for you.
The longing for your
fingers entwined,
in mine.
And I will shine for you alone,
sweet crruuush,
because I must.
(c) DM 2017
Feeling a little lost and wishing I knew how to express myself.
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 8:01 AM UTC
Feeling rather off lately.
Must be time to stretch my wings.
Flutter up, and out,
above ordinary things.
I feel a chill in the air, and a feeling- that familiar glare,
of red and orange bokeh lights on the freeway,
dusty clouds over head,
waking up under the overpass of your love,
and the heart beat that
beats ahead,
ahead of the others,
ahead of the crowd,
it whispers, "Stand up straight,
don't slouch, speak up loud.
Throw off the familiar,
shake off the cloud,
run with the leopards and
leap with the deer,
unbind your icy feet,
and crush the new year."
-Dm 2017
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:48 AM UTC
green is not a color
it is the reflection from through
which the world sees you
empty of everything except beauty
I hold you in esteem,
even blades of grass,
must dream.
DM 2017
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 2:28 AM UTC
In still frames and photographs,
I still see your eyes light up,
they're not faded like today.
I see you vibrant and laughing,
a sweet grin as you say my name,
"Stop sweetie, I don't look good." You mumbled,
and I begged to differ,
felt my hands shiver,
You always looked good...
With your long hair in a bun,
that white sweater of mine-
was way too big,
the way it always wrapped you in the
scent of my cologne,
the safeness of home,
and the way you giggled
as I pretended you were a delicious truffle,
playfully as if I were a pig,
and lovingly nibbled your ear.
Back when "you" were still here.
And then you began to drift,
across an impasse,
a weight too heavy for me to lift.
and you spun your golden feathers,
across time and space,
drug induced and broken,
a shattered masterpiece,
your life: a waste.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
There are ghosts hiding behind my skin,
they come out at night,
and remind me of my sin,
there are red and blue cities within my heart,
they pulse and blur with light,
and remind me I am empty inside.
The ice queen dances on ice so thin,
she calls me out at night,
and waits for the ice to give in.
Sometimes I remain on the shore,
other times I dive right in.
-Dm 2017
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC