Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2017 beautiful tragedy
Sam
Here I am once more
Stuck in agony
All remedies are distant
If even real at all
As nothing seems to change

Darkness has much prowess
To conquer deep inside
As the fight continues
I realize I'll never win
It's hard to talk on the phone
Can't quite focus on what they're saying
Stuttering and stammering for words
At loss for what to say
Then you have the words again
You say the words you mean to say
They come out sounding weak and jagged,
Meek and lame
And you feel useless in the department of speaking
Your heart beats and jumps wildly at the attention you never wanted, the attention that seems to put an untold amount of pressure and judgement upon you
You never feel like talking again, except to maybe voice an opinion someone might actually care about
You panic when someone new talks to you
Heart thumping madly to get out of your chest, telling you to get out of this situation

This is not a cold, not the flu
Not something you can get over too
Hm. Is this good?
the sun god reaches out for me
index finger, a fiery beam
to claim my heart again
for the new day
for today's sunset
for tomorrow's sunrise
pierce the indigo cloak
rip it out through broken ribs
the prison bars asunder
claw it out from me
and make me cling
to dear life
compelled to fight
find in strife
what I lost in comfort
me and her we barely talk
like spies for different governments
I've tried extracting information
but I'm cut off, passing out
and I wake up every time
17, heart-broken with silence

blank stares scan my every evening
somehow I am still invisible
turning this into a cold green light
to explore the dark corridors of my heart
my thoughts turn to microfilms
and battle plans and secret blueprints
my cover's hanging by a thread

I'm now a fugitive with everything to lose
a secret agent in love with their handler,
the disembodied string of signs on glowing screen
how much emptier than this is it possible to get

because there is no home
and you can't just go back to the agency
one wrong step and charges vary
from espionage to treason
and there've never been any right moves
at all

so now it's back to basics
 Jul 2017 beautiful tragedy
Eleni
'Are you pleasing those Lions?'

She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.

'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'

City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?

'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'

That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.

'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'

She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets

And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.
This short poem was partially inspired by one of my favourite songs from The Doors called 'Hyacinth House' whereby Jim Morrison expresses loneliness and the nature of being judged by others based on careers, personalities and relationships. I combined this with the strong presence of the lions in Trafalgar Square in London, which have a intimidating appearance and represent the strength of the British Empire. These eyes of judgement seem to pierce through the speaker in this poem who is being criticised by the personified statues for being unworthy of recognition.
departure
                arrival
the climber
                 the diver
     the heat
                 the chills
     the beat
                 the thrill
         depth
                 moisture
        height
                 closure
another old one... I guess it doesn't get any more abstract than that...
Next page