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 May 2016 Hadrian Veska
ryn
.

How do we mend wavering pedestals...
When the ground beneath is parched dry.
Stemming off loose foundations that time had weathered wry.

How do we mend broken gazes...
When watchful eyes which were meant to see,
are blinded by the onslaught of half-truths and fallacy.

How do we mend burnt bridges...
When we never look back to trace heavy missteps.
We fail to admit to consciously springing obvious traps.

How do I mend ailing hearts...
When familiar corridors seem warped to a bend.
When my own is struggling and perpetually on the mend.
The walking dead in the land of the living
Soulless eyes and hearts unforgiving
They seek to destroy
******* out your joy
Shatter your skull
Make your mind dull
Rip out your heart
That's just the start
Dead set eyes
You'll never relize
Till it's to late
Your heart they ate
Breathing remains
Nothing else the same
Now hollow of feeling
Soul was sent reeling
Some don't know
Out of them life flowed
We're all missing parts
Mostly the heart
Also gray matter
Out of mouths spatter
Growing in number
Pillage and plunder
All must be feed
Living in the land of the dead..
I know that you love me.
I know that you care.
I know that there's not anything
that you wouldn't share.
I know when I need someone,
you'll always be there.
I know you'll help carry the weight,
that I can not bear.
I know your love for me,
will never reach a plateau.
For that I am eternally grateful...
but I'm bleeding all I know.
-

full moon
in a sequined cloak
one eye open
in the smoke

hiding in
a bit of lace
a coquettish fan
over your face

all golden
are your
dripping beams
through my window
birthing dreams

all through the air
the darkness stains
leaving dust
as its remains

drowsy now
the lullabies
bring that moondust
to my eyes

night
he slumbers
in the day
but he's now snoring
where he lay

all yawning now
the poems will keep
I'll join with night
in restful

sleep


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/21/2016
I have been woken up in the middle of the night for months now. But for some reason I feel like I'll get a good night's sleep tonight

I'm exhausted!
 May 2016 Hadrian Veska
gray rain
Albums, collections of songs,
A collection of words
brought together
to right, wrongs
or just to hurt
they're there forever.

Somewhere.

Old recordings
on vinyl
or hand written on papers.
New recordings
still on vinyl
but more objected to haters.

To be

easily accessed
and heard by everyone
fans or not,
torn to shreds
when criticised, a song
is unappreciated for what

amount of effort

the artist went through
to create something new
and original
just for you,
for your ears. To view,
to be a signal.

That originality

isn't dead
or dying
or even injured
but instead
living
to be heard

by millions around the world.
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