Nathan A Brock

Nathan A Brock Dec 2

O, crawler of the night, I pray
That thou doth not resent this day.
Grudge me not that I must take
A hook to make thy belly ache.

But in this murky pond, methinks..
And as thou on an egg weight sinks,
That swimming knight in plated mail
Might be inclined to munch thy tail.

And thus be caught, yet try to sprint
From straining monofilament.
But I, Oh I, the water's lord
Shall see knight lay on cutting board.

Forgive me, friend, for this, my vice.
I'll not let fade thy sacrifice.
In verse I'll speak thy final plight..
My supper's final meal tonight.

© Nathan A. Brock

Just for fun.

#fishing #silly

Dec 2

Li Ching Chao

Tz'u No. 16 (Bajiao)

Who planted the Bajiao tree under my windows?
Its shade fills the courtyard;
Its shade fills the courtyard...

Leaf to leaf, heart to heart,
folding and unfolding,
It expresses boundless affection.

Sad and broken-hearted, lying awake on my pillow,
Late into the night
I hear the sound of rain.

It drips and splashes, cool and melancholy;
It drips and splashes, cool and melancholy....

Lonely for my beloved, grief-stricken,
I cannot endure the mournful sound
of rain.

Dec 2

Shel

It’s For The Plot

I don’t want to remember,
this last month of November.
Gouge it from my eyes,
carve it off my lips,
scrub it from my soul.
You see,
the moon rests high,
while the tides pulled low
and waiting for that change
merely hardens the soft blow.

Nathan A Brock Dec 2

Seedling

The sounds of whispers
echo endlessly in the
mind of the ******;

unintelligible words
commingled with
toxic silence,

the mind
hovering over the void,
suspended by a
single breath held in
nervous anxiety,

awaiting the nudge of
fates hand

-the exhale-

and then,

the slow fall.

Thus is
taken the will from the life;

thus the seedling
tears it's own roots from the
soil - leaving itself to
wilt on the asphalt-

it’s leaves turned down

hiding their faces
from the sun
they once adored;

the sun they now
reject for setting too often.

©Nathan A. Brock

Repost from 2018. Edited and reformatted.

#dark #drugabuse

Nathan A Brock Dec 1

Mute

I cut the chords from my throat,

Presenting them as a

Gift in homage to the

Gods of the citidel, burying my

Resentment with the

Bones of my ancestors.

I ripped the nerves from my face,

Offering my apathy to the

Wraiths that would prey on the

Bitterness of mute lamentation .

I tore the veins from my arm,

Freeing the hidden

Tears that flowed like a

Creek over my

Wrist and into silver phial.

I dipped my quill in the phial

And let the

Shadows hear the

Sound of my voice.

©Nathan A. Brock

Repost from 2018. Edited and reformatted

#silence #inferiority #fear #dark

Nathan A Brock Dec 1

Untitled 23/01/2024

I am not broken...

Only cracked down the
side...

I leak as you try to
fill me... but you never
bothered to fix me
first.

Perhaps it's because you
know you can't...

You have not the skill...

Or.. perhaps.. you are
simply out of clay.

© Nathan A. Brock

Nathan A Brock Nov 29

You Ain't Lookin' at Country

That steel guitar has

cried it's last..

a shrill twang that

faded into a

chasm...

I followed that last

bitter note

until my legs struck.

A sharp crack..

As they tangled in a

heap of vinyls and

plastic cassettes.

Scratches.. white noise..

the film pulled out and

tangled in a ball.

Not that it matters , for the

only phonograph is

missing a needle...

and Post Malone is

stuck in the deck!

A recording from the Opry...

The Opry?

No.. No...NO!

Not the Opry...

It must be mislabeled!

I must have

screamed for

hours as I played it

over... and OVER!

'The Grand Ole Opry welcomes....'

CRASH

the stereo hits the

pavement as it

shatters into tiny

fragments that fall

neatly back into their

original configuration.

'The Grand Ole Opry welcomes...'

I ran...

I ran...

but it followed...

and it consumed...

all.

©Nathan A. Brock 2024