keith-jenkins - Hello Poetry

There's a golden sunset in my head. I go there when the music swells, I go there when the nights are dead, I go there when I think of Hell. I smile at what is evil, And spew laughter at the hearse. The sunset skews my vision, And I had thought that it made me worse. I try to draw the golden water, So that maybe you could drink it to. I try to describe its every contour, To try and give the sun to you. For the sunset's in the car chase, The sunset's in the bar, The sunset's for the horsemen, And all the stories that went too far. I paint these savage pictures, That never seem to catch the light. And I marvel at my failure, With bitter re-reads in the night. But the sun is still there setting, And there's time to catch it yet. Even these words have escaped me, But I can always try again I guess.

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Dec 11, 2013

Dec 11, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC

keith-jenkins

Sunset

There's a golden sunset in my head. I go there when the music swells, I go there when the nights are dead, I go there when I think of Hell. I smile at what is evil, And spew laughter at the hearse. The sunset skews my vision, And I had thought that it made me worse. I try to draw the golden water, So that maybe you could drink it to. I try to describe its every contour, To try and give the sun to you. For the sunset's in the car chase, The sunset's in the bar, The sunset's for the horsemen, And all the stories that went too far. I paint these savage pictures, That never seem to catch the light. And I marvel at my failure, With bitter re-reads in the night. But the sun is still there setting, And there's time to catch it yet. Even these words have escaped me, But I can always try again I guess.

24

The sun splitting stones, he'd never been this cold A traipse in a daze, he was what he was, and he was what he owned All angles perfect, signal all systems go A rushed scrawl of penance, you'll understand, don't we all in the end? Knows the drawer, but draws them all Watches, letters and diaries fall and scatter, his charge in amongst it all Little thought then did he give to what they'd find As he inclined the .45 to blow his mind

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Dec 10, 2013

Dec 10, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC

keith-jenkins

The Other Side

The sun splitting stones, he'd never been this cold A traipse in a daze, he was what he was, and he was what he owned All angles perfect, signal all systems go A rushed scrawl of penance, you'll understand, don't we all in the end? Knows the drawer, but draws them all Watches, letters and diaries fall and scatter, his charge in amongst it all Little thought then did he give to what they'd find As he inclined the .45 to blow his mind

8

We'd been walking for an age, Stone by passing stone We passed ever onward, Towards our end Here will do, came the call, It brimmed with confidence But it came from, God knows who. The shadows shift to greet the day, The shovels drift through seas of waste. We've struggled here, me and you. Now fight the earth, and raise this tomb. But who is speaking? Where from do they call? Why was I beckoned here? Am I really here at all? Its all so facile! A predictable jaunt! It was all called from day one, Now there's just the motions to evoke. The dirt brushed steel finds the reaches of the deep You'd seek to sleep, had you earned your rest Yet among cartoon images and plastic sets I think you'll find, you were at your best To the dark, to the dark, You stride with beaming smile into the reach As if to deprive, yet no one would ever seek Why scrawl in a corner, what do you hope to yield? Listen now boy, the dirt is all there is Bow your head and conceal your task We'll hit rock bottom and you'll sleep at last.

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Dec 10, 2013

Dec 10, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC

keith-jenkins

Grave Digger

We'd been walking for an age, Stone by passing stone We passed ever onward, Towards our end Here will do, came the call, It brimmed with confidence But it came from, God knows who. The shadows shift to greet the day, The shovels drift through seas of waste. We've struggled here, me and you. Now fight the earth, and raise this tomb. But who is speaking? Where from do they call? Why was I beckoned here? Am I really here at all? Its all so facile! A predictable jaunt! It was all called from day one, Now there's just the motions to evoke. The dirt brushed steel finds the reaches of the deep You'd seek to sleep, had you earned your rest Yet among cartoon images and plastic sets I think you'll find, you were at your best To the dark, to the dark, You stride with beaming smile into the reach As if to deprive, yet no one would ever seek Why scrawl in a corner, what do you hope to yield? Listen now boy, the dirt is all there is Bow your head and conceal your task We'll hit rock bottom and you'll sleep at last.

30

He was climbing a mountain. There was, but a moment ago, the soft sound of summer thunder, And the tender drift of curling winds. A voice, that knew no constraint of time or place. It spoke as if it had always done so, as if it were all at once memory and potential. Its sentence had no end, its syllables outlasting empires. It made him pang for the world he once new. But it was far away, for now, He was climbing a mountain. Upon the way, one traveler found another One took refuge from the climb, his hands bloodied, his will broken The other sat perched on a cliff edge, never facing his cohort, never truly meeting The climb is far from easy, called the ****** man. Come, let us eat together and tend our wounds. The man of the cliff did not answer, not immediately. His gaze was fixed upon the implacable horizon, Its forms were grains of reality, blowing across the plains of perception To look at one was to see no other, for this is how it is. "We do not wound," he answered at the last. Will you not face me, called the man with bandaged hands That shifting sky is nothing but the wastes of life The knowledge it holds is not for us to know For we are the ones who climb. The cliff's man remained silent, for he grew weary of climbers You are not the first he thought, and you surely will not be the last For the climbers had minds for not but the mountain They are born to seek its peak. Before him were the storms of life Where beings of light roared across the world Their lives ended within a blink Each one, shimmering like unclouded stars against the silky black of night Each a triumph of failure, for even in death no fall awaited them They knew only ascent Perhaps that was what the climbers sought? Perhaps they wished to be as they? But the cliff, he knew, was the end of all things Its precipice, the boundary of the divine It was the only true ascent, it was all that he could crave. The climber had lingered here long enough And it was time to send him on his way "We do not hear the Nightingale." The man with the mended will had no time for puzzles To the sands with you, may the winds take you to your beloved rifts of chance There's a mountain that needs climbing, for why else is it here? Whilst you are betroth to destiny's stir, to the sky's delight, I have known the beauty of her touch, the loving warmth of her breath She is not to be watched, she is to be held, to be kissed, to be yours. He turned his back to the cliff and its watchman He had been sated by his stay, but it would be folly to remain He was climbing a mountain

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Apr 26, 2013

Apr 26, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC

keith-jenkins

Ascent

He was climbing a mountain. There was, but a moment ago, the soft sound of summer thunder, And the tender drift of curling winds. A voice, that knew no constraint of time or place. It spoke as if it had always done so, as if it were all at once memory and potential. Its sentence had no end, its syllables outlasting empires. It made him pang for the world he once new. But it was far away, for now, He was climbing a mountain. Upon the way, one traveler found another One took refuge from the climb, his hands bloodied, his will broken The other sat perched on a cliff edge, never facing his cohort, never truly meeting The climb is far from easy, called the ****** man. Come, let us eat together and tend our wounds. The man of the cliff did not answer, not immediately. His gaze was fixed upon the implacable horizon, Its forms were grains of reality, blowing across the plains of perception To look at one was to see no other, for this is how it is. "We do not wound," he answered at the last. Will you not face me, called the man with bandaged hands That shifting sky is nothing but the wastes of life The knowledge it holds is not for us to know For we are the ones who climb. The cliff's man remained silent, for he grew weary of climbers You are not the first he thought, and you surely will not be the last For the climbers had minds for not but the mountain They are born to seek its peak. Before him were the storms of life Where beings of light roared across the world Their lives ended within a blink Each one, shimmering like unclouded stars against the silky black of night Each a triumph of failure, for even in death no fall awaited them They knew only ascent Perhaps that was what the climbers sought? Perhaps they wished to be as they? But the cliff, he knew, was the end of all things Its precipice, the boundary of the divine It was the only true ascent, it was all that he could crave. The climber had lingered here long enough And it was time to send him on his way "We do not hear the Nightingale." The man with the mended will had no time for puzzles To the sands with you, may the winds take you to your beloved rifts of chance There's a mountain that needs climbing, for why else is it here? Whilst you are betroth to destiny's stir, to the sky's delight, I have known the beauty of her touch, the loving warmth of her breath She is not to be watched, she is to be held, to be kissed, to be yours. He turned his back to the cliff and its watchman He had been sated by his stay, but it would be folly to remain He was climbing a mountain

50

A Hero standing tall on a backstreet, wondering, Wondering what it takes to make the kingdom come Hammered on his fists beneath the sign of his Devil How'd it come to be that all the wise ones fall? They had to reach out for peace before the madman Come to think, what if all his words is how the truth comes home A hero's falling down, but a stumble, just a shake Blame is all that ever seems to find his door Casting out his hand for the weary, has to ask Why did you ever think that she had lived at all? Marching up the trail to the enemy's sanctum Grace and glory cease beneath redemption's call Stung by the sea in a search for flaming wings An island awake and so far from alone Set out for three upon a violent churning sea How'd it come to be that he could find but one? Escaping from the mist in a shadow, moving cliffs Baring south, where oh where have the shining Jewels gone?

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Oct 21, 2012

Oct 21, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC

keith-jenkins

Jewels Pt 1

A Hero standing tall on a backstreet, wondering, Wondering what it takes to make the kingdom come Hammered on his fists beneath the sign of his Devil How'd it come to be that all the wise ones fall? They had to reach out for peace before the madman Come to think, what if all his words is how the truth comes home A hero's falling down, but a stumble, just a shake Blame is all that ever seems to find his door Casting out his hand for the weary, has to ask Why did you ever think that she had lived at all? Marching up the trail to the enemy's sanctum Grace and glory cease beneath redemption's call Stung by the sea in a search for flaming wings An island awake and so far from alone Set out for three upon a violent churning sea How'd it come to be that he could find but one? Escaping from the mist in a shadow, moving cliffs Baring south, where oh where have the shining Jewels gone?

18

Rhythmic pumping Concealed in a dream A riff of rifts Ascend to the heavens The solo shatters the sky The angels cease to sing A surge of sudden grace A dancing maelstrom of melody A wicked, hellish pace I'm lost So joyously lost The solo bites with beauty Treble rules all Treble tones in treble time Though they'll say its all based in bass Majesty spews forth when six little strings Oscillate

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Mar 5, 2012

Mar 5, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC

keith-jenkins

Oscillate

Rhythmic pumping Concealed in a dream A riff of rifts Ascend to the heavens The solo shatters the sky The angels cease to sing A surge of sudden grace A dancing maelstrom of melody A wicked, hellish pace I'm lost So joyously lost The solo bites with beauty Treble rules all Treble tones in treble time Though they'll say its all based in bass Majesty spews forth when six little strings Oscillate

17

You've got no earthly talents No hint of substance here Alone is your method You've got so much to fear. Beneath shuffling footsteps Worlds contort and shear The cracks appear to show you Recede and die right there. Blurry sight, the danger heightens Tears you apart to see Just what laughs as you stumble? These veins of destiny. The night stalks, and it will find you Paint a smile for the enemy Washed clean as you're drowning There's nothing left to see Wake up! The cycle's turning Attracted by sweet sin All of this, it's all but fleeting Forever trapped, you'll never win A weighted hand holds your comfort This time you'll see within Who'd have guessed the hate that's in you? Held just beneath the skin.

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Mar 3, 2012

Mar 3, 2012 at 6:47 AM UTC

keith-jenkins

All But Fleeting

You've got no earthly talents No hint of substance here Alone is your method You've got so much to fear. Beneath shuffling footsteps Worlds contort and shear The cracks appear to show you Recede and die right there. Blurry sight, the danger heightens Tears you apart to see Just what laughs as you stumble? These veins of destiny. The night stalks, and it will find you Paint a smile for the enemy Washed clean as you're drowning There's nothing left to see Wake up! The cycle's turning Attracted by sweet sin All of this, it's all but fleeting Forever trapped, you'll never win A weighted hand holds your comfort This time you'll see within Who'd have guessed the hate that's in you? Held just beneath the skin.

24

Time to write a poem with some shameless rhymes I don't know why Perhaps to pass the time? I don't get structure What the hell is verse? Which line am I rhyming with? For no reason at all, purse. Okay, that rhyme was pretty cheap Almost as bad as the next one Which is something about sheep. This is too easy, rhyming this with that Hey, who's your favourite super hero Mine dresses like a bat I kid, I kid... Wolverine almost never dresses like a bat

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Feb 27, 2012

Feb 27, 2012 at 6:12 AM UTC

keith-jenkins

Meh

Time to write a poem with some shameless rhymes I don't know why Perhaps to pass the time? I don't get structure What the hell is verse? Which line am I rhyming with? For no reason at all, purse. Okay, that rhyme was pretty cheap Almost as bad as the next one Which is something about sheep. This is too easy, rhyming this with that Hey, who's your favourite super hero Mine dresses like a bat I kid, I kid... Wolverine almost never dresses like a bat

15

Lay down there Stretch out your arm Try not to worry The needles mean no harm A flash of pain A sterile ache Accustomed with time You'll barely wake It draws you in And swirls you inside They said you'll feel better They clearly lied Through blood you'll travel Ceaseless miles of tubes They'll clean you out What have you got to lose The hours pass It seems you're done You're free to go Just don't try to run Arm bursts open Damage looms large Hold the pressure Stop the charge Must be fit leave So you'll come back tomorrow Abandon your plans You have no more time to borrow Alarm bells ring The machine calls out Don't you dare leave It all but shouts You are my captive I'll drain your soul forever Make no mistake We will die together I can't go back...

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Feb 26, 2012

Feb 26, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC

keith-jenkins

The Big Blue Machine

Lay down there Stretch out your arm Try not to worry The needles mean no harm A flash of pain A sterile ache Accustomed with time You'll barely wake It draws you in And swirls you inside They said you'll feel better They clearly lied Through blood you'll travel Ceaseless miles of tubes They'll clean you out What have you got to lose The hours pass It seems you're done You're free to go Just don't try to run Arm bursts open Damage looms large Hold the pressure Stop the charge Must be fit leave So you'll come back tomorrow Abandon your plans You have no more time to borrow Alarm bells ring The machine calls out Don't you dare leave It all but shouts You are my captive I'll drain your soul forever Make no mistake We will die together I can't go back...

37

Too long blinded by hindsight You'd burn your eyes just to see a new dawn's light Wicked things made of sinewy grace Say it isn't you, but guess who chose this place? When was it that you began to fear joy? Or better yet, tell me why you fear at all? Day in day out, curse the air you breathe Why do you persist? A tighter tie is clearly all you need. Today, tomorrow, just which will be your last? It never comes, no not for you, you have to live to hate your past. Can't you see the parody you have built into yourself? You want death, but without the price of health? So lost, buried under your own lies Every wise man knows, no one really wants to die No, just to collapse our darkness, just to see a better life. So dispense with the sickness upon which you are built And on that day, I will be free of your guilt.

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Feb 19, 2012

Feb 19, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC

keith-jenkins

Blinded

Too long blinded by hindsight You'd burn your eyes just to see a new dawn's light Wicked things made of sinewy grace Say it isn't you, but guess who chose this place? When was it that you began to fear joy? Or better yet, tell me why you fear at all? Day in day out, curse the air you breathe Why do you persist? A tighter tie is clearly all you need. Today, tomorrow, just which will be your last? It never comes, no not for you, you have to live to hate your past. Can't you see the parody you have built into yourself? You want death, but without the price of health? So lost, buried under your own lies Every wise man knows, no one really wants to die No, just to collapse our darkness, just to see a better life. So dispense with the sickness upon which you are built And on that day, I will be free of your guilt.

17