I was consumed at the last by a tiger
he kindly left you alive,
and my heart, the only beautiful
parts of me.
voices carry far across the sea
industry and war
lovers falling in love
babies first cry
the last gasp before death
song of poets
the silence of forever.
She licked her lips, incomprehensibly
A feverish dew, luminous beads
A mutual alacrity, unspoken melody-
That guides me to search deeper.
Magnetism without polarity
No witness to confess undue crimes
Healers unaware of their divine power-
Now we caress in our velvet hour.
Shackles and chains extinct from our desires
The birdsong and Sun continue their loops;
lacing together under luscious clefs
of bassy tones, arpeggiating.
The second is nigh that my senses explode
I am not frightened by this pensive moment
Let me drink from the chalice, Priestess
And absorb the sacred knowledge.
Depression for me happens slowly,
And for some reason,
Has never quite felt like drowning.
More like a rut that turns into a hole that I've slowly dug myself into.
And then I hit rock bottom and look up to see where I am..
And in those moments, I become utterly shocked at what I've done. Then it gets worse when I tell myself "there's no way out."
"Oh how tall the grave."
It feels like an overwhelmingly empty pit that I'm stuck in.
So far down, so far away..
But I can see the sky, turning from night to day, night to day.
"I'm wasting time." I say.
I also see the light though,
The light at the end of my upwards tunnel and somehow I always get out because it leads the way.
Yet I dig another.
It is exhausting.
To be so unwillingly, accidentally, repetitive.
I wonder if there will ever be a day when I'm further than 10ft under but will get so tired that I can't fight it anymore and maybe someone will look in to see a skeleton, and bury me
Once and for all.
Do you still look for me
In all the people
You constantly escape in
To forget you're running from
How much you hate yourself?
When I grew up
I realized that none of us have a clue on
How to navigate these
When I grew up,
I looked around and saw
That everyone is still learning how to get their land legs
When we've finally run ashore.
When I grew up,
I started listening
And I noticed
Everyone has their own kraken stories;
Of monsters they have not
Yet laid to rest.
We're all just swashbucklers
Still trying to learn to
Navigate the seas.
Some days blend well
with smiles and songs
and the passion of love
leaving swishing whirlpools inside
Some days settle down
as dregs in a teacup
the bitter dross
sticking to the froth around the edge
and the residue coming to the surface
as if constantly stirred
Some days, the mind’s slits open
and fancies sluice down
like a dam with shutters removed
or like birds fleeing away from a cage
then hands quiver and ink spills
Some days, I feel so alone
stretching me on the rack of pain
then I shut myself from the outside world
like a periwinkle withdrawn to its shell
sinking under dead weight
unable to feel if dead or alive!
A little Mady bird caught the sun ,
having forsaken her nest then revelled in the-
Dreams of sunflower fields and wisteria ,
bumble bees and sweet corn ...
Oak arbors sprinkled with tinsel
Pungent , turned earth laden with -
sweetgrass , kernel and lentil ...
Sing a song of powder blue ventures
Proud announcments from the tip of -
Scolding her contemporaries draped in water oak-
Nestled in mistletoe
Pious morning adventures ...
Copyright Janurary 29 , 2021 byRandolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved