Black Crow
I sit perched
watching.
Fights ensue,
gloomy winds
breezes passed me.
Some may call for help
to no avail.
I salvage any goodness left
So I may survive.
Dwelling, in forego
And still, I am the Black Crow

My letter arrived from a hollow shell.
Words I had written stealing my joy, as my gaze fell
Into a well of despair so deep.
Monsters awoke from their silent sleep.
Locked away like a morbid zoo, each one a fragment of me.
Unwanted children, to foster they say.
Crafted from shadows, made to stay
Each one with their unique name.
Logic to guide my sight, dissect their presence
to pierce the night.
No longer specimens to remain defiled, these monsters are mine
to be reconciled.
Lines blurred like a tangled web,
where neglected whispers softly sob.
Children hidden in the dark, second to one.
Yearning for light of sunshine, a healing touch.
To the depths, I lower my hand to lead to a better land.
Fresh air to breathe, water to cleanse.
Love as the balm for what life suspends.
This journey is mine, with every tear to face my shadows
conquering my fear.
For in healing them, I find my own way.
Towards the dawn of a new day.

To open your eyes to the sun of ole morning.
Strapping your boots, laces tight
forming thoughts for work, but mind-warring
Finding fights in the depths.
With a big breath, hope to not succumb to death...

From the *** tater and those who pit patter
Something might be awaiting after.
But you check your phone for something new,
nothing, get up and make some sanka to brew.

Work coming to a halt, try to find an end-all-be-all
On your way back, some items on sale, zesty
Grab some tickets, scratch that off the list
Bet on some games, hoping you get the jist.
You take a seat in your chair, quite aware
Was diligent, switch the tv channels only to skip it
A.c. is out, grab a brush and find what to do with the space, tempting
A deep breath to fill your lungs with air, empty

Multiple months now, two to three hours.
Wake up, pat the pillow
Comb the sheets, be mellow.
Trazadone, from which I draw powers
To rest in dreamy fantasy.
Quite fitting, back to a girl I once fancied.
Eager to be present, in dream, 100 percent content.
No focus of the world, ease in a peaceful place,
As we yearned to be face-to-face…then blink
****** my eyes that open a wink.
Take me back, let it recur
To blissful memories with her.
Ode to joy, feelings to encase.
For memories will soon efface.
No remorse nor push away these means
But sum it as an Exquisite Dream

Rusted hinges creak. A mourning, musty groan.
A hollow echo in a house once known.
For laughter's chime & footsteps light n' free.
Now just a shell, a haunting memory

Sunlight struggles through dust laden panes.
Illuminating cobwebs, remnants of bygone rains
Each chipped, flaking wall a silent plea.
A yearning for the life that used to be.

I tead with reverence on creaking floorboards worn
Imagining the stories in this place forlorn
The faded paint, a canvas cracked n' dim
Holds whispers of love that used to be brim.

Slowly, tools in hand, I break the mournful spell
New life I bring, A future yet to dwell.
Hammer strikes meet chisel's tap.
A symphony of hope, dispelling sorrow's trap.

Ignored or words to adorn. May fade like soundless wind.
Invisible, lyrics to be hushed. "A Ghost Story"

Dim light paints the gallery, a canvas of dust.
Where brown hues mask portairs, memories ******
Behind cracked frames, tapestry of loss.
Faded echoes stir, emotions at a toss.

With chains of past, I stand, a captive soul
Unable to relive, yet forced to stroll
Through halls of what was, a hollow, echoing space.
A silent question hangs etched upon my face:
"What can I create now that the past is gone?
Is there no spark, no flame to ignite the dawn?"

Ashes remain, where flames once brightly burned,
A yearning for colors vibrantly returned.
For life's battery can dim, its vibrancy wane,
But within this gallery, a new path I'll obtain.

No longer bound by the dust and the gray,
I'll step out towards the sun a brighter day.
This gallery holds the past, but the future is mine.
A canvas untouched with space for design.

Ahh, back to the drawing board, oh I forgot it's covered
Huh, no markers. I got to grab some from the store.
Guess I'll use the chalk, bored, my Lord.
What was it I was to write, I think had quite a lot
To draw from this dot and finish this plot.
Dotted-Lines to jotted and where...does...it...end?
Wait, where is the line I slowly penned.
Is this the lesson I intend?...Where is the the board?
I thought it was right here, not a question
Prepping for class to be in session....

Fractured floorboards, splintered dreams, remnants of affinity misused. Tangled in deception's cold grip, a confidence that time diffused.
The doorway stands a hollow shell, its promise turned to rust.

Rebuild I will, with steady hand. Rebuild I will, on sturdier ground,
A fortress at my core. My domain, once breached and lost will rise from wreckage bold.
No trespassers on hallowed ground, their stories left untold.

With hammer's blow and measured pace, mending what once was mine. Each nail a vow, a whispered strength, a will nonetheless to shine.
Though shadows linger in the past, a future I define.
These hands will craft a world anew, where flames of purpose twine.

Oh for this day I wait
to be nothing.
No more pondering tomorrow, going back to a blank slate
wiping the name only to be rusted.
The long awaited venture of not competing with yourself
Oh boy, I cannot wait for what life has in store.
Actually I take that back, I will race no more.

Start of the week complete, yet many have tested me
To See if I pique, vex 'till I'm freaked.
Creeping up on me like I'm a beast waiting to wreak havoc.
They critique my meekness until I unleash the deepness
Bringing to my meanest, as they view me as weakness.
To say I'm rude but their ears are unready for the truth.
I was calm, leave me be was all you had to do.
All thought I would be humble and let it slip, but here's the twist
There's names written on my list...Try me, I insist!
Haha

Whirling, airy, smoky-immanence.
A sad, sad song is tuned for me.
Grey char, blending orange shine, eminence.
Now that this Old World is ending

A second endeavor, an experiment I was not willing to finish,
But the quickness to change, my life as a witness.
Afraid to share my voice, nobody to press burden
As others emphasize the choice not to close my red curtains.
The performance continues with each enduring breath
Taking a look in hindsight, good memories that I've left
With those positive notions, all chuckles & taunts
Nor to ignore my gifts, too far to be lost.
Still a preference for me to move. My hand, show the cards I've got.
TO keep the steam from surging, I write these words which I sought
to walk through the wardrobe of my reflections.
A failure I am happy to rest in~

Markie Waters

Clung to this sentiment like a leech in the night.
Thought I had a tegument, a mystical flight.
Turns out I was limpin', a mismatch of rhymes.
Staring in a cracked mirror, ecstatic precious time.
Blindsided by this impact, a lyrical bomb.
Shattered my perception, exposed where I'm all wrong.
Life's a dehydrated trip, specifics all astray.
Regrets on repeat, self respect in the trash.
Needed a lyrical slap, to see the abyss I couldn't admit.
Gotta take a breather, rewrite this whole skit.
Shallow anxieties clouding my vision, blurring the end.
Clearing out the mud, let these lines transcend.
Let's meet what debris is shallow,
Hard to see the shadows in Murky Waters