The Voices within Silence

Dec 2018

Yitkbel

We are becoming cultural germaphobes
Eliminating every potentially negative thing

We are becoming sheltered perfect roses
Under glass domes too over protecting

Monocultures and biodiversity
If we don't build our immunity

How are we to survive
How are we to fight the blight
of
Time

A shout and then
All quiet

Dec 2018

Tash Mckay

I dont matter.

It don't matter what I do
It don't matter what u say
Who I am
Where I've been
It means nothing
We all come to a end

I see clearly now
I am just a beat
Just a name
A number
I feel free
Don't expect anything from me

I am no one
I am nothingness
I'm not lost
The world is
It all comes to the end

Memory's
Life
My name
I'm Natasha mckay
But
we all energy
That will rejoin
Energy

The end
I'm not scared
I'm not dead
I'm just seeing
Like a new born child
I mean nothing

I am nothing.

But energy.

I see everything.

I will have an affect on my kids but not be on that I will end up nobody just a energy to the universe that's it star dust.looking how when my life matters it don't. I'm just here existing. It want matter. 2018.

#tasha #mckay

Nov 2018

Pagan Paul

Performance

.
Feint is the Muse,
that looks upon me,
challenging my existence
with deep baleful interest.
Its struggles hard
to contain its indifference
at the mere mortality
that I conduct.
And conduct I do.
As melody takes
centre stage
in a flight of fancy,
constrained by rhythm
temperate, steady,
and insistent.
The cadenced beat
of skins keeping time
to a fanfare of sound.
But my voice is silent,
conspicuous by its absence,
in mute violation
of speechless freedom.
The words won't come,
no song message birthed
for altruism
nor benefit of composition.
The flight of fancy stalls
and gently rocks in a cradle
of anticipation.
Rhythm drops to a meagre
pelvic twitch,
insistence foregone and forgotten
in a cynical parody
of the vocal deficiency.
Velvet drapes lick
the wooden floor stage,
and the performance
has just begun.

© Pagan Paul (14/11/18)

.
Sorry, my brain is on meltdown :(
.

#poetry #performance #harmony #music #stage

Nov 2018

Pagan Paul

Candle Drift

.
A cloud falls from the sky,
a lead balloon of precipitation,
and cuddles the ground
like a long lost lover.
Dripping its cargo,
shedding tears along the way,
leaving a trail of damp memory
and a calm balm
for the Earth.

And a candle flickers
on a lonely table,
as a pen drifts across lines,
filling meaningless words
that never
convey the depths of separation.
The flame flares
as a waft, a draft,
creeps in a crack under the door,
adding a poignant touch
to the melancholy of atmosphere.
Gripping the pen with delicate unease,
the hubbub drowns inwards,
doubt rises in ascendancy,
the pen falls,
like a discarded relationship,
and the meaningless words
stop.

© Pagan Paul (21/11/18)

.
My brain is still on meltdown :(
.

#poetry #candle #drift #pen #writing #rain

Nov 2018

harlon rivers

etomb'd in raindrops

Remains of the summer
sunlight drip out,
entomb'd in raindrops
from the prevailing
gray beclouded skies
Memories of joy
bathed in sunlight
unravel like a wind
frayed kite dancing
above a day at the beach

Soaring seagulls ponder
all thousand feet of kite string
tied to a hidden bliss below —
hurtling through
the shapeless heavens
tethered to refreshed
dreams still lingering
within an untamed
child of the wind

Morning falls
from  the  trees
in whispers
of golden sorrow
The damp chilled air
smells fresh as the traces
of heaven's cleansing rain —
befallen drop  by  drop,
each plash counted
from an angel weeping,
splattering the broken silence
all  through the night.

An inflamed montage
of leaves surrender
all this unholdable lifeline
we  ever  know;
blanketing the fields
of  autumn's tawny  grass —
Sowing a mosaic colored
reclamation  reposed
atop a nascent green,
soon enrobed by impending
winter’s pallid slumbering hues

The darkening hush
imbues a shadowing
fugitive peacefulness
bathed in wind river eddies
of autumn’s blessing rains

harlon rivers

November 3, 2018

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not;
and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad."
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

#thoughts #life #light #darkness

Nov 2018

harlon rivers

The Slow Death of a Poet

...a diary of the falling dominoes chapter

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat
within morphing flesh shell ,
gasping for new breath
in a hovering stale silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance ,
impossible to discern what storms rage
from the inside out ,... unnoticed

an uncontained wildfire
smoldering within, lies in wait
for the imminent winds of change
to fan the flames into the final
eternal silent ashes

a poet reaches out demurely
offering a candid look
into the window
of the imperfect human soul

there is no poetry
met by indifference
just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time
dripped slowly on an empty page ;
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out
like seeping blood evanescing
from a bottomless puncture
wounding ... penetrating the heart,
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for poetry is only words unless they touch someone ...

befallen to indifference is poetic death
by salted paper cuts ...

a muting suffocation
that hiddenly erodes away,
silencing the passion
of a musing soul
one unread word at a time ...

© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved

it is an enigma how poetry evolves in meaning over time
― like a self-fulfilled prophecy, some become transformational, some become new beginnings or some become a finality of a metamorphosis of peaceful endings or deleted attempts at understanding the misunderstood...

... all to be determined and allowed to let be

― THE END ―

#poetry #poet #life #death #thoughts #perspective #indifference #remembrance #mortality #rawhonesty