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 May 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Flight
 May 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
If you were granted the gift of temporary flight...

     Would you ascend...
          Just so you could feast your eyes
          on the horizon,
          beyond the confines of weather-worn tiles
          set upon unsuspecting rooftops.

     Would you take soar...
          Just so you could briefly leave the ground
          below.
          And as the land beneath you diminishes,
          all that's you tethered to your earth
          almost instantly would turn into nothing
          but specks of insignificance.

     Would you fly free...
          Just so your heart could entertain the possibility
          of being ensnared by the breathtaking
          view of the sun,
          as it rests its pompous girth upon its bed of
          clouds;
          Like a bratty king sprawled over lavish sheets.

     Would you burst through the boundary...
          That separates heaven and earth.
          Just so you could be bewitched by the full blown
          moon,
          be enthralled by the siren calls of the stars,
          and be a part of the spectacle that is the
          universe...

If you were granted the gift of momentary flight...

     Would you still ascend?
          Knowing full well that soon gravity would claim
          you with less than no pity nor remorse.
          And all that you had complacently forsaken...
          Will greet you with the harshest of punishments.



                    *I would.
leave me

Look at the way I've been brought up,
Processions sounding like song I've never wrote.
Horrid horrid
"How could you let her die?"

I swear it wasn't me.
All I've ever wanted-
watch the sun sleeping under the moon

Now that you're free to observe
Tell me about the noises in the dark
Stutter at my doorstep
As you try to convice me that this God of yours didn't take my little Rosie without a purpose.
Give me the reason why he took her
And why everyone blames me.

Hear me in some fashion,
Something fashionable,
I'm not pretidctable.

It's early tonight
I've been drinking all the words out my mouth.
But that wolf tooke the salt from the breeze


Hit the ground running
Los Angeles
I never fell so soon.


Find another naïve arm to twist.
The gate has cracked.
Swish.
Scrape.
Scratch.
We silently create.
Together...
Yet apart.
We are artists.
We speak the language of the heart.
Brush, paint, canvas.
Paper coated in black clay, wire tools, scratched surface.
We create.
Together...
Yet apart.
We are artists.
Paper, pen, fingers tapping on a laptop.
We are artists.
Who write...
The language of the heart.
And, like children, we play.
We flow with words in the land of imagination.
We flow with lines and colours,
and the palette of our emotions.
We speak the language of the heart.
Together...
Yet apart.
We are artists.
Dedicated to my daughter Mary and her boyfriend Jeremy.  I loved our art session together!
 May 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Lazarus
 May 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
"My David don't you worry
This cold world is not for you
So rest your head upon me
I have strength to carry you"
- Lazarus by Porcupine Tree*


When the ways of the world
just seem too much.
When everything just doesn't click together
like they should.
Puzzle pieces that incessantly mock
when they don't fit.
When the tears don't soothe like they
promised they would.

When you're up to your neck,
almost fully submerged.
When the fatigue you feel comes from constantly
treading water.
And desperately you try to
keep yourself afloat.
But relentless storms fail not to threaten,
and rip you asunder.

Remember that we're only here on
borrowed time.
And that the everyday's sun will set
after its daily reign of tyranny.
What good are these arms
if they stayed folded shut.
They only invite you fall deep into me.
Now embosomed, I'll carry you to safety.
 May 2016 Skaidrum
archwolf-angel
May the stars watch over
Wishes made
Nicotine misted
Tears shed
Sacred hugs


May the moon promise
To seal lips
Cover eyes
Open up hearts
Clear minds


May the sun bless
Smiles exchanged
Gazes shared
Spread giggles
Utmost confidence


May the Gods be good
Anticipate more
Than what we have today
Shower blessings
Look our way


Because everyday is a new beginning
And tomorrow is promised
Challenges will always come our way, it's how you choose to deal with it. I made a promise, 'tomorrow' it will always be.
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Precarious
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
We hang
precariously
by the lies
we present as truth.

Dispensing tainted words
we thought inconsequential.
Ill-conceived notions
we sowed and nurtured.

But now we dangle
by the skin
of our fingers over this cliff...
Desperately clawing
to find purchase...
And gravity is a
mean *****.
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Preordained
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
.

You could...

Let the universe decide...
If it has space for you.

Let life decide...
If it has a future for you.

Let God decide...
If He has amnesty for you.

Or you could...

Let yourself decide...
To fight for a place
where there's always a tomorrow,
blessed with opportunities
to seek forgiveness.

.
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Courtship
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
I'd befriend the obsidian sky...
   I'd shower it with a bounty of praises.
  So that it'll welcome my nightly gaze,
     without threats from overbearing clouds.

     I'd impress the twinkling stars
       by serenading them with songs unheard by most.
     So that when the time comes,
  they'd cast their votes in my favour.

I'd whisper to the nighttime breeze.
   I'd cavort and giggle at its slightest touch.
      So that when I fly my flag,
   it'll catch it in full billows for her to see.

Then finally...
  I'd woo the twilight moon...
     For she is the prize
   my heart had sought to pursue.
    I'd court her
      with the fiercest blaze that burns within...
     In hopes that she'd forever
   remember me as the suitor that had
fallen helplessly.
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Popcorn
 Apr 2016 Skaidrum
ryn
Right now, my mind...
Is the proverbial popcorn machine.

Every little thing that bothers me is
likened to a kernel.
And to make popcorn, you need lots...
Bucketloads of kernels.

Dump them all in the machine.
Let them whirl.
They sit layered on top of each other
undisturbed,
on the hot bed until...
The spindly metal arms begin to rotate...
Whose sole purpose is to agitate.

Buttered with debilitating insecurities.
Sprinkled with irrational fears.
Heated with erratic temperament.

And here come the arms again.
Rotating,
churning,
inciting.

No one knows when the kernels
are going to cave and rupture.

Then...
"Pop!" would go one.
Then another...
And another...
Soon they would all start to explode.
When that happens,
I do too.

••••••••••••••••••••••
Addendum
•••••••••••••••••••••­•

I love popcorn.
And I don't like to share.
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