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Em MacKenzie Jul 3
No one could ever dream to have you beat
in self destruction, self pity and defeat,
it’s almost bittersweet.
But you get by, it’s you not I,
you get by with a plan to only die.
Yes you get by, with any chance to cry,
never noticing another’s sigh.

You know with all the licks you’ve been taking,
we’re both surprised that you’re still waking.
Oh and with the hits you’ll keep taking,
don’t be surprised that you’re still shaking.

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
slam our heads together; we’ll forget if not solve them.
So what’s your story you’ve got for me today?

I am no stranger to your sad tales,
though you push them right off the rails,
and my own attempt is except and always fails,
I’d have better luck pitching them as sales.
As you’d get by, just for a high,
only to try with your plan to die.
Yes you get by, it’s always you not I,
claiming life’s got you in it’s eye.

You know with all the kicks you’ve been taking,
it’s a wonder you’re still not breaking.
Oh and all the tricks you’ve been making,
are you shocked we think you’re faking?

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
you act the saint and cast I as the goblin.
So what’s your story, exaggerated allegory, today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
my hands are full but do you need a tissue?
I’ll say sorry, just ignore me and what I have to say.

So open up the bursting flood gate
direct the flow to where I seem to wait,
it’s truly my ears that suffer the most,
I abandoned thought not my post, though I now am late.
But you get by, and still yet defy
magnify on your plans to die.
You’ll always get by, call it a lie,
focusing on rain ignoring you’re dry.

Oh with all the trips you’ve been taking,
It’s no surprise you’ve been strongly flaking.
And with the drips and the lies that have been caking,
you can’t comprehend anyone else aching.

So let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
I’ll start a list and another separate column.
So what’s your story, for attention or glory today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
hands on your neck and checking your wrist too,
it’s mandatory and obligatory, but morally grey.
Jun 5 · 188
Sailor Knot
Em MacKenzie Jun 5
I like the way that you sing
when you think that I’m not listening,
and it’s amazing the smile you can bring,
when you do even the simplest thing.

Go on and put my heart under arrest,
and proceed with each Miranda right;
at the trial I will plead no contest,
I’m guilty of thinking of you every day and night.
No need for a jury to resolute,
as each line upon my suit,
will be the love I profess just finally brought to light.

It’s just you,
and what you do to me.
You turn the sky blue
and keep the sun shining.
I thought I couldn’t do a thing
but true love’s always lingering.
It’s just you,
you’re all that I see.

I wish to write poetry for you but I forgot my pen,
but no paper for my hands or tongue so you’re body’s perfect to lend.
Up and down I’ll write “I love you” in lines,
at very least a hundred times,
over and over again making you contort, shake and bend.

We’ve been saving the best for last
but it’s nowhere near the end,
and while time is now moving so fast
do you remember when it was the furthest from a friend?
Some measure it by slipping sands,
but sometimes matters must be forced by hands,
to correct actions of the past,
and heal wounds that couldn’t mend.

It’s just you,
and what you do to me.
You provide each foot a shoe
and hold me up walking.
I was choosing to be by myself
than fake this with someone else.
It’s just you, naturally.
Jun 5 · 676
Clean Sheets
Em MacKenzie Jun 5
There is only so long
you can struggle to make a bed
before you realize,
that it's a futon.
An old note I wrote down months and months ago.
May 26 · 182
Blinded By Sight
Em MacKenzie May 26
My love;
you’ve told me you wish
to curl up inside my brain
and live amongst its thoughts.

But,
I am utterly convinced
that you constructed it as if
it were the great Pyramids,
and my thoughts as company;
would just be
a million copies of you.
Sorry to all those who wished for the most wonderful, beautiful and perfect woman in this world, for she has always been mine.
Apr 24 · 419
Tu Me Manques
Em MacKenzie Apr 24
Let your mind slip for tonight
forget who and where we are,
alter the wrongs to make them right
return to the sky each faded star.
We could succeed in changing time
turn a foe to trusted friend,
is it even really a crime
to repair what was never meant to bend?

Even when the sun forgets to rise
you’ll be there lighting up the skies,
hypnotized by the galaxy in your eyes.
And if the world can no longer turn
you’ll see that the fire continues to burn,
and learn that there’s no need for concern.
You’ll know you’re irreplaceable.

This is just part of who we are,
we couldn’t escape it if we tried,
and even when you’re so very far
you still know I’m by your side.
It’ll be like this forever,
no matter what we do,
things change just like the weather
but never me and you.

Even when the sun forgets to rise
you’ll be there lighting up the skies,
it’s both beautiful and tragic how fast time flies.
And if the world can no longer turn
you’ll see that the fire continues to burn,
you were worth the wait and necessary to earn,
you should know, you’re irreplaceable.

And I carefully watch the constellations,
that take form within her deep eyes.
A million blank pages of declarations,
impossible for me to ever summarize.
I measure love from ground to mars,
and how I’ve never felt so complete,
but it spans all across the stars,
the same space where our souls meet.

Even when the sun forgets to rise
you’ll be there lighting up the skies,
you’re the one exception to every rule, none applies.
And if the world can no longer turn
you’ll see that the fire continues to burn,
you’re all I want, I long for and yearn,
you’ve always been irreplaceable.
Apr 7 · 175
Uranophile
Em MacKenzie Apr 7
You slowly run down my spine
and I’m sure you’re draining all of the fluid.
And how I think about you all of the time,
my God, if you only knew it.
While only in fleeting view,
you know my heart’s roads always lead to Rome,
and my love meeting and being with you
was just like finally coming home.

I need to ask this question,
I beg for you to answer it true,
please bring about heavy confession,
that you think of me as much as I think of you.
As my eyes only see you,
they burn with such scorching heat,
and they change from green, brown and blue,
the hues battle and they compete.

City streets and hardwood floors,
when my heart beats, each beat is yours.
Silent night and the darkest skies,
I drink in the perfect sight before
my eyes.
Each days that passes through,
three sixty-five takes its toll,
I just want to know you
I just want to see your soul.

You didn’t ask but you received my hand;
writers cramped and splattered with ink.
I’ve got this devotion I wear like a brand,
and you’re the only thought I think.
And if you should ever lose your sight and detection,
I will guide you through the dark,
any bruise, blemish or believed “imperfection”
I see only as a beauty mark.

Stretched out on my sheets and in my pores,
when my heart beats, each beat is yours.
Shining light and my personal sunrise,
I drink in the perfect sight before my eyes
Each moment feels brand new,
one step closer to our ultimate goal,
I just want to know you
I just want to see your soul.

Electricity now coursing in my veins
and galaxies stretched out upon my skin.
I wished to merge instead of changing lanes,
so thank you darling for letting me in.
Now I’ll forever be drowning in your eyes,
and always breathing in your voice.
I was in the dark but you lit the skies,
even the stars know you’re the superior choice.
<3
Feb 29 · 196
Lazy Eye
Em MacKenzie Feb 29
I’ve got another cold night ahead of me
exhale and treasure the breath that I see.
Snow prints don’t lie,
dark tints the sky and I
still witness a star glimmer in my lazy eye.

Whipping winds lash at my face,
squeeze in my shoulders and pick up my pace.
Snow prints don’t lie,
my squints still try to magnify
and catch a glimpse of light to my lazy eye.

So I’ll wear a heavy sweater
and will double up on socks,
prepared for all types of weather
but I’ll be tripping over rocks.
No choice but to keep on going
even without water, shelter or a knife,
and though I’m done with all of the snowing
I guess I’ll just layer up for life.

I’ve got another long day in my view
hopelessly chasing a sunset, I miss each shade and hue.
Snow prints don’t lie,
short stints too high but I comply,
hoping to rest my head and close my lazy eye.

So I’ll wear a heavy sweater
and will double up on socks,
to be facing the outside better
but I’ll be crashing with the stocks.
And in order to pass “go” again,
you gotta trek through heartbreak and strife,
cold hands, do you have mitts to lend?
As I must layer up for life.

I’m determined to walk the path less taken,
and when we intersect it will be the one less shaken.
Feb 26 · 459
The Crow & The Dove
Em MacKenzie Feb 26
This seed I’ve been tending and grooming,
sadly it misses the sun these days.
Yet I catch the vibrant flowers sprout and blooming,
it’s the strength not the amount of rays.
I’m not afraid to graze the dirt,
I need to reassure it’s fully hydrated,
softly brush the petals, I’d never see it hurt,
I could be offered palm and money trees but I’d never trade it.

Bringing life into each room
and in the darkest pits it provides a shine,
My heart beats start to rapidly boom,
you know that I know it will all be fine.

I buried a time capsule within my chest
though it was defined by a single memory,
I’m not absent minded just it was the best,
changing and morphing but it’s you constantly.
I’m not afraid to lose sight,
both literally and metaphorically,
as long as I can absorb this all day and night
It’s really the only thing that’s important to me.

Bringing light into the world
illuminating each route and sign,
diamond in the rough and deep sea pearl,
you know that I know it will all be fine.

For if she ever wishes for the moon,
I’ll bring down the whole galaxy,
and a second is just too long and not too soon,
she beats my heart and the air that I breathe.

And if she ever craves the stars,
I’d burn my hands to grasp though they reside in her eyes,
they’re the only thing that shines brighter than this love of ours,
and though her name is of the sea I see it etched in the skies.

I know I am stained with darkness and that itself makes me a crow,
and she’s the pinnacle of light and peace and that dawns her the place of dove.
And while we drive ourselves insane, we can’t deny fate and what we know,
that the dictionary has made a mistake,
darling, we are the true definition of love.
For her and only her.
Feb 16 · 245
Evergreen Terrace
Em MacKenzie Feb 16
Existence stretched through a detour,
two spots; unknown in direction.
Turning left when it was right before,
keep all guessing, slide past detection.

I’m not a one stop shop,
once I housed hand crafted originality.
With the increase in demand I let my guard drop,
and now both my shelves and insides are empty.
I believed in a watcher behind me,
I held onto tight to an invisible thread.
Everyone is just silently constantly reminding me,
I’m isolated and alone even in my head.

I hear the loud pop of plastic against plastic,
feeling both relief and shame simultaneously.
Side slipping and back breaking; I thought myself a gymnastic,
though incredulous was the thought of even competing.

But I was sleeping in a Chinese finger trap,
so assured that I would choose to make it a womb.
You couldn’t hear a pin drop but with the concept of a single tap,
ears would shake and ring as if it were a sonic boom.
I’ve got nothing but dirt and dust on my shoulders
I pass it off as glitter and simple magic.
I show no signs of tiring from passing back all the boulders
if I didn’t let them slide it would almost be tragic.

Pardon my complacent self involuntary involvement,
and excuse me while I perform dramatic ironies.
Preparing the conscious for the next inevitable instalment
of prepared monologues of justifications and fallacies.

And I can’t but think in this instance,
I remember the episode of The Simpsons
where Homer is outcasted for screaming “aliens”
and he drinks himself out of existence.
“Red M&M, blue M&M,
they’re all the same colour in the end.”
Really had to stretch for that last reference. Not the best.
Feb 16 · 479
F Ten
Em MacKenzie Feb 16
If it's not broken, don't fix it.
Let it keep going beyond repair.
A splatter painting from the world's remains.
Feb 15 · 373
Neural Network
Em MacKenzie Feb 15
I once believed myself alone
because the world did not know me.
I now know I am alone
because I know the world.
Feb 13 · 381
Waka Waka
Em MacKenzie Feb 13
Keep moving forward
through all the twists and turns,
and avoid the ghosts that haunt you
until you have the strength and power
to confront them head on.

Life is a maze,
but there will always be a place for you
and you will never be lost.

Keep moving forward,
sometimes backwards
and side to side,
as even Pac Man had a soul mate.
Bewbewbewbewwww.
Feb 13 · 180
Van Gogh’s Lost Ear
Em MacKenzie Feb 13
I’ve got a secret that lives in my head
no one knows of it, not even me.
It surfaces slow while I lie in my bed
I wish I could sleep peacefully.

Wind is biting my ear, my left side is ice cold,
I’ve turned numb; I’m not even tingling.
A lifetime of bronze and silver, finally received gold,
but to place around my neck; I’m still hesitating.

It’s been a starry, starry night,
with Rhone’s reflection shining bright
and our Irises connect and only ever see light.
Studying sorrow; pain vs. fear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?

It will be while on the dryest island where I find my lungs filled with water.
It will be collapsed on ground when I finally stand,
and encased and embraced in ice when I start getting hotter.

Promises will be made
and secrets are kept,
you’re inside me as I’m flayed,
exposed and I feel in debt.
You know that I love you,
that I only think of you,
and no one is your equal let alone ever above you.

It’s been so long at Eternity’s Gate,
I missed the Almond’s Blossom; I was too late,
and The Potato Eaters complain with what is on their plate.
Studying sorrow; shame or a tear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?

I’d jump to paint your shadow
or even draw your outline in chalk,
I’d drag myself behind you even if you were to allow
me the privilege alongside you to walk.
Just appreciating some Gogh.
Feb 2 · 136
Citizen Vain
Em MacKenzie Feb 2
I aspired to draw a line in the sand
but I ended up carving a square.
It birthed a perimeter that wasn’t planned,
enclosing the emptiness of what was there.
If I could find the will to move my legs
I’d still plant my feet on either side,
but they’re dangling off each limb that drags,
dead weight bumping and bouncing along with the ride.

Stagnantly cushioning careless decisions
and finding loose lint among the remains,
stitching is falling behind the constant incisions
but surprised the pleasures match with the pains.
I’ll be going over, while falling under,
come run Red Rover, abstain or plunder.

I noticed the devolution of my skin,
in the irregular margins I jotted scribbled notes.
We could cut the cost with aluminum foil versus tin,
it could mimic barriers like our winter coats.

See my mouth refuse to further consume
my teeth are made solely to crunch numbers,
checking every inch within each room,
I can’t comprehend the routine this encumbers.
You supply the war
and I’ll supply the headlines.
We’ll follow the same pattern as before,
but now watch out for land mines

I poured the tears into stale water
and traced my hand upon the sun,
burnt fingertips but I thought it would be hotter,
and the brightness could blind if not stun.
Walk off the wounds from imagination
and get in the ring to face reality’s wrath,
I’ll take comfort in knowledge of my destination,
I never rerouted my destined path.
Breaking a block that was a brick.
Nov 2019 · 353
The Madness of Mercy
Em MacKenzie Nov 2019
Broken knuckles on my left hand
and spotty bruises on my right,
I left my brain on the coat stand
night after night.
And I was tongue tied with flushed cheeks
thank god for the absence of light,
and in the patterns of your tear streaks
you stamped my name so I’d be sure to catch sight.

Lying on damp grass that still died,
perched on top; we are the dew.
To resuscitate all life we helplessly tried,
but there wasn’t a single chance, it’s sad but it’s true.

Let go of the character
and slide back to the dancing shadows.
I fought tooth and nail to take care of her,
and still it’s I they trot to the gallows.
I’m clearly not MCauly Caulkin,
but I’ve been left stranded home alone.
No silly robbers are going to walk in,
instead it’s the absence that breaks each bone.

The stars are currently spelling out my regrets
and that is the real reason they are infinite and endless.
Whether lost lives, loves, chances, friends or bets,
I’ve got strong arms and even I’m not sure I could mend this.

You can pick up a brick and throw it through a glass pane,
or you can look for others to make a home.
I’ve been stacking my share without a thought in my brain,
I crave some structure but trapped myself in the dome.

I carelessly ripped out every seam and stitching,
I was assigned batting position but I’ve been aimlessly pitching.
My mind is racing and my hands are twitching,
my emotions are pacing but my pen’s tired of my *******.
“It was your mercy that killed the king.”
Oct 2019 · 238
Lies of a Kingdom
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
I’ll be the first to admit
I didn’t have much almost a year ago,
but I had you and you had me.
We had dug ourselves a hole so ******* deep,
even with a telescope scrounged from the garbage we could not catch any glimpses of the natural life above us.
But I held your hand in the darkness
and gave it reassuring squeezes to let you know we’d climb out eventually,
and if we failed, we’d have eachother in the darkness.
At some point I stopped feeling your hand squeeze back,
and within the darkness I could only conclude you had died.
That I was within a hole, I suppose a grave now,
refusing to abandon a decomposing corpse.
When your lips peeled back it revealed your teeth clenched together,
and I convinced myself it was a final smile, but really, I see it was gritted teeth of discontent and disgust.
You blamed me solely for the grave,
but we dug it together, and it only became a grave because you decided to give up instead of fighting for each day and the possibility it would bring.

Everytime we talk now, you leave me for the night to stew in the sadness
and loneliness, you initially left me to drown in.
But there’s a drought from the skies,
so I fill the hole with my tears,
and the blood gushing out from the wounds you gifted me.
I failed to realize those tender kisses where compressed, jaw locking bites into my flesh,
tearing open whatever jugular you had left with me after going after it.

You tell me about your current predicament since your soul
departed the grave and rejoined the land of the living.
It isn’t as great as you believed it would be, is it?
So why do I still feel obligation and sadness hearing about it?

You left me to fend for myself,
to pick up the pieces of the life
we had together that you shattered in a matter of an hour.
You didn’t feel remorse or responsibility for where and how you desserted me.
I’m just not that type of person.

You set what little I had left on fire.
Whether it was my structure,
my financial security,
my confidence,
and the pieces of myself I wished to give to someone more deserving.
Someone who could be there for me in a way you never wanted to be.
Someone who actually loves me and wants to climb out of holes with me.
And I just can’t now.

I don’t love you anymore.
Atleast, not the way I believed I did.
But why do I still feel protective and responsible
for the one who poured the gasoline
and lit the match,
and didn’t even bother to stay to warm their soul at my pyre?

I must be the biggest ******* idiot on the planet.
Oct 2019 · 304
Talking To The Walls
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
I don’t know if it’s just the bitter cold
or the failure of the liquor to warm my soul,
but there’s frostbite on my lungs and an emptiness deep inside me.
“The future is bright” oh what a lie,
spending every night with my only company; the sky,
the stars lose the fight and even fade when the sun rises high,
and it does so spitefully.

I’ve got unlimited time,
claiming invincibility as a crime.
I’ve got an endless list in rhyme,
but I have no conclusion.

Tell me Scout, is this a joke you were planning?
Boo Radley’s tree is not for hanging.
Gritted teeth and fists are banging.

I’ve got unlimited time,
but no energy left for the climb.
I’ve got never ending points to chime,
but it’s all an illusion.

Tell me Scout, is this a joke I’m not understanding?
Boo Radley’s tree is not for hanging.
Dodging punches and slurs they’ve all been slanging.

I evaluated the situation up and down, left and right,
and I still don’t think it’s accurate of that night,
‘cause the level was too hard when I meant to choose beginner.
I tried to hold your interest with all my might,
but I noticed your eyes drastically dim in light,
the screen flashed “game over” before we were even done dinner.
Oct 2019 · 515
First Edition
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
The colours to illustrate you don’t exist,
and even if they did I still would miss,
a single shade or hue
that fully captures you.
Better than a Mona Lisa smile,
and Starry Starry Night eyes,
I tried for a mosaic but there was no perfect tile,
nothing could do justice, blasphemy to anyone that tries.

You’re a living, breathing masterpiece;
every gallery should be honoured to have you on their walls.
Too complex for graffiti on the streets,
too heavenly for concert halls.
I can write you; rainbow and tornado,
orbs of faint blue, and a grin of sweet day glow.
Oceanic waves and erupting volcano,
the sun’s ray that came on through,
and the embrace within the wind’s blow.

There isn’t a single brush head I could find,
that could stroke each corner of your mind,
it’s too complex and deep,
it’d be so stunning, it would make all weep.
Putting shame to an Impression, Sunrise
and casting shadows on Lady with an Ermine,
as just a simple picture of your eyes
would last eternally through time.

You’re a living, breathing masterpiece;
not meant for a mere mortal to possess.
Completely perfect personality, traits and feats,
every other human design was just a test.
I can write you, style and rhyme,
blindly bright, natural sunshine.
Digging only at surface to fit into each line,
but there’s no describing what connects it all or the bind.

I know the answer but if you said,
that your favourite colour was red,
I’d let myself bleed out to provide you some paint.
Non acrylic and totally free of lead,
I’d wish for you to illustrate the picture  within my head,
even if the proportions are wrong,
and the lines are blurred and faint.

You’re a living, breathing masterpiece;
completely impossible to duplicate.
Though unfinished you’re still complete,
amazingly flawless in this state.
I can write you; every day till I die,
until the pages and filled and my pens run dry.
Deep like the ocean, but bright like the sky,
and you’ll steal the hearts and breath of all passing by.
Oct 2019 · 461
Waiting Room
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
I’m the only one with dirt on my hands,
I’ve been crossing my fingers and snapping rubber bands.
And the fragments and pieces build into a story,
I transformed it to a thesis; the quality’s too low for me,
and I never set my expectations too high,
as should I, a lack of truth and abundance of lie.
My oh my and by the by.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and head,
there’s splinters in my skin and my bed,
there’s poison in the words I was fed.

I’m the only one missing pressure on my shoulders,
replaced the gentle weight with two heavy boulders.
I was wishing on satellites thinking they were stars,
breaking free from embraces thinking they were bars,
admiring fireflies not realizing they were cars
but I’m painfully aware of my own
scars.
I’m holding open seminars
to these memoirs of ours.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and shell,
there’s craters in my heart where I fell,
there’s holes in each story you tell.
Oct 2019 · 380
Inferno Canto
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
Please don’t mind me,
I’m just a splinter of the past.
Wandering blindly,
and hands are tied so I can’t grasp.
Just like the thought,
of giving up after giving all I’ve got,
I admit that it wasn’t a lot.

Now it’s too late to pretend
that I’m not broken; could be so easy to mend,
I’ll hide the shatter point where you made me bend.
I’ll return to my other fix,
it succeeds in dulling my heart with it’s mind tricks,
a perfect combination just mix and blend.

Nightly I lay awake
sketching scenarios involving us,
where you give and I take,
I return equal amounts; a benefit of respect & trust.
When it’s time to fill in each word,
I admit I’m aware I’m not what she deserves,
someone better who won’t lose their nerve.

‘Cause it’s too late to pretend
that it’s not plagued in every thought I spend,
should be thankful that I’m important enough to still be called friend.
And there’ll always be somebody else,
completely oblivious to a heart’s wealth,
and too focused on their self to ever expend.

We can’t fix the mistake
but we can make a new one;
drain each ocean and lake,
and completely block out the sun.

Yes it’s too late too pretend
that you’re not draped in every word I’ve penned,
even with the lowest odds I’ll still contend.
And do you see each blow and broken bone,
wishing that I’d just leave and find a home?
On me you can depend to not be alone,
do you think the same you could lend?
Oct 2019 · 553
Déjà Vu
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
I’ll bring you the moon
and the stars will come down for you tonight.
I hope that you will show up soon,
but I don’t see one trace of light.
I’m at dead end ruin,
I guess I should’ve made a right.
Bound to pop just like a balloon,
no need to apply strength or might.

So don’t try to stray
it will never be through,
you can’t run away,
she’s not done with you.

Climb out from the dark,
but take a break before you tire.
I thought that I did feel a spark
but realized that I’m on fire.
I’m ash; my body is an urn,
I beg to be spread and to be set free.
So blindingly bright you burn
but there’s no complaints from me.

So don’t try to stray,
it’s something you can’t do,
you can’t run away,
she’s not done with you.
Every night and day,
one thing rings true,
sidelined and kept at bay,
it’s just déjà vu.

You know I have nothing left to lose
but I’d still give all of my nothing over to you.
Out of options but there’s only one thing that I’d choose,
the only thing I know, but still a mystery lacking a clue.

Think of how beautiful life could be
and all of the colours that could come from grey.
Just take a single step towards me
and I’ll carry us both the rest of the way.

I won’t try to stray,
you know I’m stuck like glue,
I’ll never run away,
I’ll follow it through.
There’s nothing else to say,
one divided by two,
and come what may,
it’s all déjà vu.

I’ll keep my distance
but dream of you nightly.
But in this instance
you just shine so brightly.
Oct 2019 · 282
Lightbringer
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
The one who can **** you
by simply disappearing,
is without a doubt,
the one who can save you
by simply existing.
“To fight the darkness, Azor Ahai needed to forge a hero's sword. He labored for thirty days and thirty nights until it was done. However, when he went to temper it in water, the sword broke. He was not one to give up easily, so he started over. The second time he took fifty days and fifty nights to make the sword, even better than the first. To temper it this time, he captured a lion and drove the sword into its heart, but once more the steel shattered. The third time, with a heavy heart, for he knew before hand what he must do to finish the blade, he worked for a hundred days and nights until it was finished. This time, he called for his wife, Nissa Nissa, and asked her to bare her breast. He drove his sword into her breast, her soul combining with the steel of the sword, creating Lightbringer, while her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon.”
-George R.R Martin
“A Song of Ice & Fire.”
Oct 2019 · 473
Silent Chapter
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
Why do me the courtesy
of meeting me half way?
Unleashing your opinions of me,
putting fears to rest and keeping pain at bay.
You might aswell just ****** me,
this game I never signed up to play,
yet still I’m screaming it out internally
but it’s not my place to say.
I guess I’ll keep quiet for another day.
Oct 2019 · 412
The Meadowlands
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
When I was fourteen
my sister was teaching me how to drive,
I went to make a left turn and hit the breaks; second guessing myself.
“Never hesitate,” she said,
“it’s when you hesitate that causes a crash.”
“Make a decision and go with it.”
All these years later it still rings true.
All these years later I still have yet to listen.
Oct 2019 · 375
Rosebud
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
You’re picking every single door
except the one I could never lock.
Consciously you know there could be one more
but you’ll continue on your never ending walk.
“Even though she knows you’d go through Hell,
why would she love you? She knows you too well.”
Accept the truth and I’ll face the wrath,
I am the root but you’re always the path.

We see days and nights at separate times,
they appear the same but differentiate.
I **** on lemons but bathe in the bitterness of limes
encircled in salt; for sugar I’ll have to wait.

What doesn’t **** me only leaves me on the brink of death,
right hand on heart as I lost my left.
I’ll form the only links that I know
and wait to hear, “I told you so.”

I stop short of screaming those crucial words
you don’t need to hear it, they’re engraved in your mind.
Instead I whisper them to the trees, the leaves and birds,
they’re the only company that I find.

What doesn’t **** me only leaves me on the brink of death,
I’ve saved your truth for my last breath.
You’ll find it all in each day with age,
I’ll write it down in a novel; you won’t skip to the last page.
I always needed it more than you’ll ever know,
and you’ll tell yourself “I told you so.”
Oct 2019 · 872
The Rule of Two
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
I’m waiting patiently to wake up
a living nightmare where I’m always stuck,
this thing called life that I have no desire for,
there’s a million exits but only one opened door.

So I raised my happinesses tolerance
now referred to only in the past tense.
Two sides and two faces; who decides which is best?
I just don’t know which one I recognize less.

My only saviour has been running late
but I promised that I would always wait.
She says I’m acting too stupid when she knows that I’m smart,
it’s these little contradictions that rip all apart.

I’m trying on all shades of purple and white,
I’ve gotten bored of only blue and red each night.
Why say so long when we can just say goodbye,
all that’s right is wrong and we feed truth a lie,
that’s the similarities and differences of you and I.
“Two; no more, no less.
One to embody the power,
the other to crave it.”
Oct 2019 · 221
Dark Deception
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I question quality of reflection
as each shares the same.
And it seemed like love
until I’ve finally had enough.

I tie up my own two feet
and put my hands straight to shackle,
and while the imprisonment is sweet
there’s too much bitterness to tackle.
And it seemed like love
until the rose tint got scuffed.

She shook the flowers from her hair
and my fingers were cut from the thorns of the tangles.
I thought there were a million clear signs there
I took the time to find each direction, possibilities and angles.
Did I demonize a saint?
or did I give a monster wings?
The image is up for perception, not the paint,
and the same song is different depending on who sings.

Seems I attract words of blades
and metaphorical slaps in the face,
deciphering shadows into different shades
and ranking them last to first place.
And I wanted it to be love,
but it was lower when I thought it above.

I see false inflated importance
or I see nothing at all.
With black and white I took a grey stance,
but my planted feet kept me from standing tall.
An empty home with a closing wall.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I convince myself it’s forms of affection,
so it’s only I to blame.
And it seemed like love,
but I chose the noose instead of my glove.
Oct 2019 · 362
Catch Me If You Can
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
Playing a game of cat and mouse
but we both lose track of the bird.
My scorched soil I failed to douse,
I’m filled with such fuel; it’s so absurd.
I linger always alone in an empty house,
speaking two thoughts but I left out the last word.
They were meant with love but I turned to grouse,
either way they never seem to be heard.

I wish I was licking stamps
instead of licking my wounds.
My letter to you gifts my fingers cramps,
I hope one day you decipher it soon.
The one thing that I am best at
is always being a bad example,
I can elaborate on how to keep looking back,
but not on the best way things should be handled.
And I hope one day you’ll see your name
woven in each line and all my stanzas.
But I think when you see it that way, I’ll just explain,
not to go buying me green bananas.

When I was 15 I chose to sign up as an ***** donor,
but all are probably damaged, and the vital ones are no longer mine.
I offered them as tribute to a Queen I adore,
she collected them and added to her shrine.

My tongue is tied tight when I try to express
importance and just what it all means to me,
but if you listen closely to my chest
you’ll hear my heart beating steadily.
And when you’re dressed to the nines
I’ll still be in left in my pajamas.
Waving my arms to direct the signs,
just don’t go buying me green bananas.

I accepted your world became my cage
but I was loyal; I didn’t need a lock.
I reasoned it as the final stage,
I didn’t need a chain just for you to mock.

I’m not angry, I’m not sad,
no resentment from me, don’t go feeling bad.
I’d still take this dagger as long as it’s your hand that grips
I wouldn’t escape or try to stagger,
sadly I’m done with my trips.

I concede and admit that I’ve gone mad,
welcomed with hallelujahs and an amen.
I’m having trouble stripping off my plaid,
but I figure it’s finally time to change stripes again.
Aug 2019 · 703
Palmists & Purgatory
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
I spotted a fortune teller at an old county fair
while knowing the answers I still looked for some there.
There was no love line or fate line she could’ve read,
I told her I bet there’s no sun line, life line or trace of a head.
She met my eyes with sadness written all over her face,
and told me out of all people that I was her worst case.
She traced the inside of my hand intently trying to see
then she asked me had I recently been burned severely.

In my death bed I’ve been waiting patiently for sleep
sadly I’m not the one it wishes to greet.
With past scars and present fresh wounds tunnelling down so deep,
loss of blood and mind so I’m left as just a sack of meat.

A loving caress to each feature
but succeed in only poking the bone,
and every single living creature
dies completely alone.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
they all choose to go but claim they wish to stay.

The beeping bouncing off the wall
steady like sirens or alarms,
and at the end of it all
we all die in our own arms.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
I still catch her glow but it’s fading away,
I know it could never last, but I still have to pray,
‘cause I am the past and she’s only in today.

I’ve acted strong and kept up this ruse,
atleast I can say I’ve always been brave,
but when I’m not digging up the past, ghosts or clues,
I’ve steadily been digging my own grave.

No lines, no ties, not a single strand.
I’ve got the palmist right in the palm of my hand.
Points to those who get the Donnie Darko and Sopranos references.
Aug 2019 · 333
Crossfire
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
So many of us are scared,
absolutely terrified beyond words,
of being hurt.
We battle, and counteract this fear
by hurting the only person
who would die before causing pain.

This creates a vicious cycle.
The gentle, soft hearted protector
becomes the stoic, heart of stone,
destroyer of worlds.

We’re playing heartbreak telephone.
Pass it on.
“Fear leads to anger,
anger leads  to hate,
hate...leads to suffering.”
- Master Yoda
Aug 2019 · 645
Green Revolution
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
I’m breaking down along with our economy
and all around they only want more from me.
The end of my rope but I’ve been tethering,
searching out hope but it’s straining and weathering.
Who cares? There’s nothing good to find,
the never ending stairs within my mind,
I’ve kept going, without knowing,
and there’s no result showing.

If you ask me what I’ve wanted the most,
it’s to destroy this parasite; I’m not much of a host.
I’m just waiting, debating
and operating almost like a robot.
I walk alone, I have no home.

I think I’ll crash if I continue going at this rate,
or maybe just break down; it’s still up for debate.
It seems like everyone in the world is ******* me
except for the select few who I wouldn’t mind *******.
Wouldn’t it be exciting for our system to start igniting?
But you know we’d foot the bill
‘cause we’re paying them still.
They crave our money and vote but don’t care to hear us speak,
so my sincerest thanks for letting me work to barely eat.

If you ask me what I’ve wanted the most,
it’s to have an outside life; this routine’s made me a ghost.
It’s been draining, to be maintaining
this training to become a robot.

If you were to ask what our Country needed the most,
it’s lower taxes and more production from East to West coast.
We’re all slaving, and behaving
for laboursaving just like a robot.
I’m not alone, I notice each clone.
Aug 2019 · 375
Heartsbane
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
I will never obtain my everything
as I fail to hold onto something.
Anything?
Nothing.

Remember that old song
“One is the loneliest number?”
That’s inaccurate;
zero suffers the most.
The fight of the century: Mind vs Heart,
winner takes on body in a fight to the death for the championship title.
Aug 2019 · 463
Happiness Killed The Poet
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
An anchor weighs upon my chest
applying pressure above my left breast,
crushing it down to create a concave,
I wave off EMT, there’s nothing left to save.
It was only hope that I’d keep going,
but I truly see no reason why,
I was cursed with the gift of knowing
I could only expect to just get by.
I think I’d rather die.

With a voice just like a symphony
and your hands were my favourite vice,
the gentle way that they held onto me,
thank god your body made them twice.
It was only hope to keep the memory,
as that’s the reason why,
I can look back at the past tenderly,
but sometimes I wish it was a lie.
Maybe it’s just the view of my eye.

Arms like home and lips like heaven
I found a shooting star at eleven-eleven.
But I stopped wishing.
Distanced by the strong will of the walls,
I see you in the streets, pubs and shopping malls.
But I stopped wishing, keep on fishing till life calls.

In a way you did assist
though you do not know it,
as happiness; it killed the poet.
It was only hope that I’d keep growing,
but I can see no reason why,
as soon the clouds will be snowing
when I crave the rain from the sky.
I will settle for the wind that’s blowing
to cover up my disappointed sigh,
if I must be cold I guess it’s best I’m dry.

Now I don’t know what you want from me
or even what you are expecting,
as I don’t know if I’m good enough to deliver
‘cause where I feel a stab I only portray a sliver.
It was only hope that I’d keep flowing
and I’d find a reason why,
the ancient embers continue glowing,
the flames will return and be twice as high.
Making me a firefly.
and video killed the radio star.
Aug 2019 · 236
Maybe Tomorrow
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
Falling down like a rain drop
twenty-twenty but I’m blind.
Knowing that this must stop,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

But maybe the fog has made me hazy,
no one will choose to save me,
write me off as crazy,
their judgements come too hasty.
Red flags planted to trace me
to the spot where I’ve been wasting
no help to do it myself,
I guess I’ve gotten lazy.
I vow to not continue with the crime,
maybe tomorrow or another time.

Tumbling around like dry leaves,
amazed by the colours you find.
Trading dry mouth for dry heaves,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

Take notice that life as a poetess
feels kind of hopeless,
and as a bonus I’m under hypnosis.
I’ve been focused on picking myosotis
for my magnum opus,
better than roses
but less than autumn crocus.
I’ll watch them bloom in their prime,
maybe tomorrow or another time.

Lying on the ground as the concrete,
don’t mind the chalk as I’m outlined.
I think it’s due I get back on my feet,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.
Aug 2019 · 598
What Dreams May Come
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
You know I saw this from miles away
planted my feet determined to stay,
you’re always searching for an answer,
blatant location: Tropic of Cancer,
I try to give direction but it’s something I can’t say.

So don’t go giving up on me
I try my best to make it all easy,
but you’re determined to house this burden,
even though it’s certain I’m the person,
who’s always around even when you can’t see.

I’ve got the patience of a saint and some,
and gained belief and knowledge from
what dreams may come.

Well we’ve discussed this and more
opened the lines and opened the door.
So divided and undecided,
why try to fight it when we can’t hide it,
you can’t go showing someone truth they’re not ready for.

I’ve got the time to wait in slum,
some would say I’m playing dumb
for what dreams may come.

I’ll keep living under heavy thumb,
trying to convince myself I’m numb
to what dreams may come.
Aug 2019 · 285
Horror Show
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
Told me to close my eyes and count to ten,
I counted down to one and then back up again.
It almost feels like it’s a crime
how blatantly I waste my time,
what does it matter? If it would shatter, it would still be mine.

Nightly I brush my hands against the dark sky,
I know it’s painted with splotched stars but not seen by the eye.
It’s creating ice cold fingers,
and a chill that lingers,
though bold, I was never a fan of cold.

It’s just that I’m trapped in another space,
my time and reality are lacking trace,
I’m right that I’m in the wrong place.
Or maybe we’ve just all been dead for years,
no one wants to add to their fears,
but the thought is turning gears.
It’s plausible, not impossible.

Told me to close my eyes and spin around,
counter and clockwise I whirled until I was on the ground.
I feel too old to play hide and seek,
strong night vision but perception’s weak,
I’m lacking balance, it’s never been in my talents, it’s looking bleak.

It’s just that I’m trapped in another space,
unable to alter my choices in this case,
the isolation and void I just can’t face.
Or maybe I’m just separated from the galaxy,
outcasted from the place I’m meant to be,
stuck in the shoes of an alternate reality Emily.
Growing more deranged, some things don’t change.
Aug 2019 · 1.9k
Overpriced Lemonade
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
If live gives you lemons
just be thankful it’s not a lime,
and when squeezing it
avoid getting the juice in your eye this time.
Aug 2019 · 254
A Love Song For Envy Adams
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
When the darkness comes
and I unravel, undone,
I know only you will get me.
When I’m fully consumed
and swearing I’m doomed
I’m sure you’ll wish you never met me.

How can you give a ****
if you don’t know who I am
and all the stories that are my building blocks.
Take the time to cram,
assign roles of lion and lamb,
but apparently it’s a wolf now in these talks.

And the pictures were colour
yet all the same they seem black and white,
maybe they faded as they sure seem duller,
or maybe there’s just not enough light.

Everyone pulls away, I sadly know the drill,
it’s impossible to stay, or even just stay still.
Throwing punches and slanging slurs,
tell me is it impossible to draw a line?
I gave her a heart but she never gave hers,
I’m surprised she even wanted mine.

I’m stupid enough to keep my word
and foolish enough to keep a promise.
Dissecting and analyzing the absurd,
intelligence is the mortal enemy to total bliss.
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
When I was young I remember
forever being distraught
and oh so sickeningly devoted
to a new girl every year or two.
I remember believing myself
better off dead than living
in the shadow of another.
It bothered me, and broke me,
that I was never a priority
or first pick for any of the girls
I believed myself to love.

In all reality, I did not even know,
truly know, what love was.
I see now it was infatuation.
For in youth love is a pretty face,
a decent personality,
and shared laughs.
Sometimes not even all three.
Now I know love does not
have requirements,
or tiny boxes to check off for standards.
No, love is an unexplainable,
completely enveloping,
unbreakable connection and completion
that you only know when you know.
You can’t ignore it, and you can’t **** it,
God knows I have tried in every way imaginable.
But not anymore.

For while I may write, and feel,
and break apart often,
about how badly it can hurt
to love someone so much it physically pains you
and not have that solidified....
I am thankful.

It’s very easy to tell someone
“all I want is for you to be happy.”
But it is incredibly hard to mean it
when you aren’t that source.
But when I said it to you the first time,
the words rolled off my tongue
so easily, and so genuinely,
it surprised me when I thought
I could never be surprised again.

Love is finding a smile
when you have barely even glimpsed happiness, let alone taste it,
because you know a part of her is happy.
Love is stabbing yourself,
and burning yourself,
every single day and ignoring it,
to offer your hand out to her
when she needs help up.

It’s living with the knowledge
that you will never taste her lips again, or feel the warmth and comfort of her arms around you,
sufficing for dreams at best,
and finding a way to be content
to just know she exists,
and she’s safe.

My mother thanked me before she died, not for us loving her, which we did,
but for being alive and letting her experience loving us.
I always thought I knew what she meant,
but sometimes I believe myself wiser than I truly am.
But I know now, for there is nothing better
than loving someone with every inch of you, past, present and future,
and not expecting the same in return.
Love is meant to be selfless,
and I thank you for letting me feel that.
Now when I die, I know I will leave with a faint smile,
and I will give my last thought to you.
Blue as frost.
Aug 2019 · 199
A Waste of a Good Idiot
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
No matter how many times
I burn my hand upon the stove,
I can’t help but be completely entranced by it’s radiant and beautiful glow.
And oh god, how I need the heat it emits so effortlessly.
While I gaze at it longingly,
wishing to graze my fingers upon
it gently,
I was never strong enough to not get burned.
That’s what ointment is for I suppose.
Aug 2019 · 195
Bloody Writer
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
Within the first breaths
of the early morning hours,
I lie in the dim abyss of my room.
I can’t help but feel a cold, empty
and heavy void in the entirety of my abdomen
as I wonder
if I will ever have a chance to have
someone, or something,
know every inch of me
like my pen does.
Aug 2019 · 469
Waving The White Flag
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
I’m waiting in line, wasting my time
for things that won’t come, though they are mine.
Pretend that I’m fine, should I draw a line?
Don’t wish to run, but I think I’m just done.

Feelings I can’t shake, they keep me awake,
the list has increased, how much more can I take?
With so much at stake, I try not to break,
I miss the sun, but I think I’m just done.

With tired eyes
I’ll still see it through.
Exasperated sighs
in breaths I drew.
I broke the ties,
but I’ve got some glue.
Searching the skies
and looking for you.

I’m waiting so long, maybe I’m wrong
I can’t walk away; my legs aren’t that strong.
Alone in a throng, I still try to prolong,
but it never begun, and I think I’m just done.

The flowing tears
should extinguish the flame,
but it’s been years
and it still burns the same.
Doe eyes sees the fears
and treats it like a game,
then it all disappears
am I to blame?

I’ll wait forever, I’m not too clever,
passing me by, but never say never.
I can not severe this painful endeavour,
I’m always the one but I think I’m just done.
Aug 2019 · 295
Fit To Rule
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
The puzzle piece was right but the picture’s wrong,
gifted with a short window but I needed long.
You know there’s no outcome I can see obtaining a win,
and your outsides are mingled with those that are in.

You can’t tell me that I’m clearly right,
I thought I was the only one putting up a fight.
You know we can’t go around in this circle anymore,
and my insides are bruised, swollen and sore.

But I’m not fit to rule, no,
I’m broken in half instead of small pieces.
I beg for each molecule to grow,
but I’m out of contracts and short on leases.
It’s plain to see the impact on me
that naturally you shape the best version I can be,
but I’m not fit to rule, no.

I’ve got strength in supply except where I need it most,
under the impression that I’m hanging on to a ghost.
For once I concur that the best things in life are free,
but my outsides keep my in from escaping.

But I’m not fit to rule, so,
I accept the disappointment with the empty hands.
Another deal that’s a cruel blow,
the hour glass; broken, but there’s no stopping the sands.
It’s plain the see the impact on me,
but I’ll continually suffer in solitary.
But I’m not fit to rule, no.

Keep on running, keep on gunning,
close your eyes and plug your ears.
Keep on running, I’m sure they’re coming,
share the skies but not your fears.
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
Who gave permission to paint the inside of my eye lids,
closing them was the only door I had to escape each day.
I’ve knocked down monuments and blew up all the power grids,
and yet there’s sounds, thoughts and memories I can’t keep at bay.

Someone needs to cover their tracks,
I’d rather gut wrenching honesty than sugar coated lies.
I’m not obliviously naive I drown myself in facts,
connecting invisible dots and stretching coincidences and ties.
I saw a rainbow, though it’s hard to distinguish if it was just in my mind,
and I tell you her beauty can even turn the heads of those who are blind.

The game of chess I left years before;
the pawn on it’s side that I placed the blame.
The knight, king and queen are strewn on the floor,
did I happen to mention that I lost the game?

Losing my path that I’ve been following,
though indecisive I’ve always been one to lead,
and with these objections I’ve been swallowing
it’s a wonder my throat hasn’t begun to bleed.

Someone needs to cover the cracks,
‘cause the water’s rushing in as time goes by.
All I feel is cold shoulders and turned backs,
not sky or ocean but veins to match each eye.
I’ve got a million confessions on my tongue, but the words I just can’t find,
and I tell you her beauty can even turn the heads of those who are blind.

I swore I opened the thirteenth door
but I found myself upon floor,
and dragged myself until I was tattooed with rug burn.
Experiencing an implosion from my core,
flame’s extinguished but I feed the fire more,
I’ve always played with matches, I guess I’ll never learn.

I lay watching the clouds
change shape into my distractions,
all hitting my brain so loud
I wish to turn it down by fractions.
Feeling isolated within crowds,
and feeling excluded from my own factions,
I hide my heart but it’s well endowed,
and it’s all yours despite my words and actions.
Aug 2019 · 266
We Rode The Mountain
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
Within the darkest corners of the night,
the void is residence but home is light.
A silver platter offered with every bit of me,
you already have it, just sprinkle vulnerability.

And your forever stamped in the back of my mind,
in the front and each corner I find,
to all others; I am blind.
One another; intertwined.
Exact fit and stars aligned.

I’m biting the dust to prevent a shade of grey,
inbetween the silent words to say,
risks and rewards now washed away.
Toss the dirt to the hole we lay.
Another night, another day.

The horizon that matches your shape,
in the sheets I carefully drape,
you see barriers and I see cape,
eyes are fixed and mouth agape.
Marked off scene and caution tape.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,
written in cursive with coloured pen;
what is broken I can mend,
what you need I can always lend.
But time’s never been my friend.
Jul 2019 · 262
Flatline
Em MacKenzie Jul 2019
My head in my bed doesn’t work quite right
I’m awake until I break, day and night.
With the voices and the choices that I wish to expel
and the deepest of the secrets I could never tell.

My brain; a stain inside my prisoned skull,
I sharpen it, spear from stick, but it’s too dull.
With the facts free, how they trap me, but I never tried to run away,
my feet sore, a path I’ve taken before, but could never stay.

The ivory teeth chomping away at my sleep,
in vain I try to get high, but I’m just too deep.
With the last of my past that I try to forget,
so I reprise a sunrise but it becomes a sunset.

My head in my bed doesn’t work quite right
what will it take for me to break and appreciate the light?
I rejoice in the choices that I can’t repel,
and the cheapest of the secrets of how I fell.
Em MacKenzie Jul 2019
I put in my time and I paid the price,
I gained the honour to be your personal sacrifice.
I traded my last breath for your new beginning,
it wasn’t the alter I envisioned, but I still consider this winning.

I swear every single word up and down,
it was voluntary; you didn’t need to trap me.
You know I’d crush my structure to resist your frown,
and I’ll give anything to know I played a roll in making you happy.

I spoke the oath now do the deed,
to help your growth you know I’d bleed.
I swapped my last day for the first in your new life,
I apologize for bleeding while suggesting a better way for you to hold the knife.

I demolished my own walls for you to see open doors,
I’ll remain motionless, no need to strap me.
I always promised you that I’d gladly give my life for yours,
it would be worth it knowing I played a part in making you happy.

I reject my last rights and deny my last meal,
I ponder an anaesthetic but choose instead to feel.  
And if you were to offer me a chance to leave and run,
I’d suggest the most dangerous game but I don’t have a gun.

Some would call me a down right fool,
and supportive well wishers would tell me I hold more worth than this.
But to assist in your desired creation; I’d be canvas, supply or tool,
to be responsible for that smile is the only thing that’s priceless.

After it all I’m reduced to dust and bone,
you’ll keep going on and I’m now put to rest.
But you know deep down you’re never alone,
you’ll still carry my heartbeat within your chest.
Jul 2019 · 338
Deep Fakes
Em MacKenzie Jul 2019
Stemming from an old familiar place
I plead insanity but not my case,
with red tinted sunglasses covering my face,
failing at trying to hide my shame.
With an abundance of up but lacking down
I’ve searched every street within this town,
I’ll rediscover peace but forget my own name.
I really need it, I’ve got to treat it
again.

No one could survive this,
I’ve got no touch like Midas,
and those same demons are at my door,
the one’s who let themselves in before.
No one could survive this,
I’ve got no will to fight it.
Why waste the strength holding it at bay,
when I can mimic that strength another day, even for show.

Step into character and out of skin,
showcase on the nose but I can’t seem to win.
I have no interest in their flashy jackpot prize,
It’s lacking clear blue skies and her warm eyes,
but I’ll shake hands and force another empty grin.
I really need it, but it’s not greed
it’s pretend.

No one could survive this,
blatant weakness but I hide it,
I’m a lone black sheep among the cattle,
even Peter Pan despised his shadow.
No one could survive this,
a DNR with a revive list,
and no one wants to leave but they never stay,
there’s no direction but they continue on their way, where do they go?

Do you really need this,
I’m willing to bleed for bliss
and transcend.
Do you really need this,
how often will you read this
till you wend?
Do you really need this,
or do you just want to believe this
will end?
Em MacKenzie Jul 2019
Shredded gold and silver flakes
it’s all been sold, from land to lakes.
I’m running up quite a bill
stationed up on my window ceil,
bargaining with Bungalow Bill
asking for a discounted thrill.
Vacant roads and silent trees
these heavy loads buckling my knees.
I couldn’t walk one more pace,
not known to finish a race,
I’ll forfeit before taking last place
then blame my undone shoe lace.

Within a half awake state,
I scribbled explanations too late,
they weren’t worthy or close to justified.
I’m just a chaser to bait,
too far behind at this rate,
but I’m sworn to the end so I abide.

A Prism view or black and white,
soft morning dew, or a starry night.
Which one should I prefer,
if they both blend and blur,
I sought the opinion from her
but accepted the first to occur.

I’m under the tree, the one from our seed,
taught me to see but not to read,
so I decipher each calligraphic,
with details too specific,
undesired outcome so prolific
my mind allows me to trick it.

There was more life in the tears
that stood back waiting for years,
only to greet their moment on the floor.
Falling down while nobody steers,
halting the joints and the gears,
and I will cover the space under the door.

We will equally share this burden,
lights off and close the curtain,
I’ll hide my breaths within the thunder.
Hastily halt then proceed to hearten,
and though I’m still very uncertain,
I’ll let doubt pull and drag me under.
Jul 2019 · 581
Selenophile
Em MacKenzie Jul 2019
I’ve been left numb and speechless by murals, symphonies and monuments,
but I was struck hard overwhelmed and left breathless by the sight of you.
I’d analyze every line, every inch and every sign for what it all represents,
but with complexity and perfection; that seems impossible to do.

The sun was illuminating on your back,
but I caught a greater shine from your smile.
I tossed time away fully prepared to lose all track,
I knew I wanted to walk alongside you day after day, mile after mile.

I have nothing that I can give,
I don’t have much to offer; I have no plan.
But I swear that as long as I may live,
I will worship you like no one else will or can.

I dusted myself off and presented my heart and soul as an open book,
every answer and truth you could want is within the text.
If you gain the courage, flip the index, skim and quickly take a look,
the first chapter is all about you and so is the rest and the next.

I’ve never been a fan of drinking
but my eyes absorb you like I’m dangerously dehydrated.
And every day since I met you I’ve spent all my time just thinking
was it coincidence, destiny, luck or simply fated.

There’s so little I can provide,
all I can promise you is my life in your hands.
I’ll be behind you if you fall, and stand tall when I’m at your side,
and I will worship you as no one else understands.

And I wove strings of poetry into a single thread,
my god, I’d hate to die without knowing every single thought in that beautiful head.

I took a nasty fall I was used to slips,
but I love you down to your fingertips.
I immortalized you in sonnets, poems and scripts,
‘cause I love you down to your fingertips.
I’ve been losing sleep and losing grips,
but I love you down to your fingertips.
Depraved of oxygen needing the air from your lips,
and I’ll love you down to your fingertips.
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