My silence is not poison.
So don't be scared of me.
Just vibe with me and
maybe you'll understand my words.
Let me take you higher
to a place, a place you've never explored before.
High beyond the mountains where not a sound can be heard.
A place of pure peace.
Where no storm has erupted before.
This is gold.
This is bliss.
Can you think of anything better than this?

The canary died last spring,
but we didn’t heed the warning.
And without enough light and air
we morphed into monstrous things.
Devouring each other’s souls.

Utilize all of the tools that are there
Let them lift you up respectively
Be prepared for the big dance with life
As you go through the challenge accordingly
Changes you may go through
But, let them make you stronger and wiser
Edify yourself endlessly
Make your visions sharper

Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

to do the maths
or tell the tale
Growing up in harbour city
Brown flats greyer clouds
Behind every
my family
Dad x nan for character
Mum for books x music
Freedom to be me
Long legs in the evening sun
Playing with the shades
on the pavement
Looking for the likes
the place to float
the moment to run
be less conscious
thoughtful insecure
Looking at the sun
turn your face towards
to avoid the shade
Blue sea greyer skies
Not to compare
Still and all to love
Steel x ships on a river
My river.

Where is the inspiration that I once possessed?
Where is the love that once sprouted from my fingertips?
Where are all the flowers that once grew around my feet,
with each step I took?

It seems as though
lately I've abandoned my gardens,
and left all the flowers to wilt and turn to dust.
The lives that I once cared for,
are now all scattered around the ground.

My spring light is somewhere lost in this winter cold,
and this winter has been going on for too long.
My body is numb from the breeze the December nights send me.
I once rose with the early sun in the morning,
but now I find my self serenading the moon each night.
Hoping maybe she will understand all my pain and issues.

These nights are graceless.
These nights are long.
These nights have me lost,
walking and searching for the sun.
Always ending up in places
that are just too dark.

Where is the sun that once loved me like a child?
Will I ever end up in a perfect place?
Am I just crying them to the moon?
Will this all be over soon?

...a diary of the falling dominoes chapter

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat
within morphing flesh shell ,
gasping for new breath
in a hovering stale silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance ,
impossible to discern what storms rage
from the inside out ,... unnoticed  

an uncontained wildfire
smoldering within,  lies in wait
for the imminent winds of change
to fan the flames into the final
eternal silent ashes

a poet reaches out demurely
offering a candid look
into the window
of the imperfect human soul

there is no poetry
met by indifference
just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time
dripped slowly on an empty page ;
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out
like seeping blood evanescing
from a bottomless puncture
wounding ... penetrating the heart,
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for poetry is only words unless they touch someone ...

befallen to indifference is poetic death
by salted paper cuts ...

a muting suffocation
that hiddenly erodes away,
silencing the passion
of a musing soul
one unread word at a time ...


© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved

Sacred airs on the morn, averse to fumes and din
Reach for what helps bring all of sane; it came.

Only one voice calling, far from tossing crumbs
Mercy in tiny increments in the lap of assiduous babes.

Lovely millimeters made the *** a replenished act
If a staid soul needs break the pattern, surely that waltz's not lost.....

Facile was of man's habit, a constant battle to evade
The one looking such of sweetness, rather reeks a tainted rag.

We had a great story.
But it ended oot when we
agreed to write it.