Memories of you
are dust-specks in sunbeams.
Capricious ghosts that flicker and dance
in warm liquid gold.
Elusive and volatile. Liable to cascade at a
In time they will settle. I will not,
for a while.
I will sit with ghosts. I will let them dance.
Scornful of the rising sun
Someone, water, please
A clipped voice,
Bland, I know.
I hate to
in a storm,
Because the wrong
How public speaking feels
the lesson you missed
you were earning
is that while you were feathering your nest
your tree was burning
Untouched, untarnished, alone with your thoughts.
Symmetrical whispers tickle your ear.
"Tell me, what makes you the way that you are?"
"Tell me, do you mean anything at all?"
You're in agony when the clock strikes twelve.
You cannot remember how you came here.
You see your face reflected off the wall.
And yet, is it you? Perhaps, perhaps not.
A dangerous cold aches into the walls.
You look to your left, the wallpaper peels.
You look to your right, and are licked with flame.
You're wrapped up in the billows of it all.
You taste the chocolate pouring from the mug.
You hide from the stares, peering through the glass.
The covers a fortress around your face.
The air grows stale, then warm, then sweltering.
You whip it away and embrace the ink.
A smokestack tethered upon my greased brow.
Your hands mangled, twisted, curved into claws.
Ripping and tearing at the dollhouse seams.
A spark in the eye, a leap across time.
Offer a charm, offer your heart or mine.
Or don't, and cast aside this petty rhyme.
Scream my name into the chapel's old walls.
Grow this rosebush, let it bloom forevermore.
Do not hide the whispers, do not hide the blood.
Wear it upon your sleeve, cherish its warmth.
Do not throw the sunbeam into the mud.
There is a beast baring its fangs at me.
Praying I take just one more step forward
so it may rip me apart, piece by piece.
The warm glow of my lantern highlighting
the glint in its eye, the sheen in its hide.
Without warning it leaps its jaw unhinged.
Fluids pour out, some saliva some blood
and my scattered remains oil the earth.
Within hours the sun is beating down,
and my remnants fester and become grey.
Soon the blood boils brown, dyeing the clay.
My skull smiles at nothing but the sky.
The name of its lost life long forgotten,
as it is buried, entombed by Gaia.
Centuries flash and my remains are ash,
but still, with the confidence of the ******,
I know this ash will still remember you.
In a different time
a different place
I died at 19.
Alone in a room so
The phone never pierces
into my black, rotted heart.
You never remind me
Of who I am.
Of what I mean.
I slash my wrists
and an echo remains.
Our hands intertwined.
You saved my life,
and now it is ours.
Looking down at the blood muddled by ink.
A shadow of vermouth composes the chain,
as she whips the words against its cold link,
alas she bites against the flame again.
A bone-cracked brief foray into the haze,
pierced by onyx moon-beams that shine the way.
A magic, ultimate, powerful gaze
that guides itself beyond the yesterday.
A stream at the tale's end of the abyss.
Dip your toes, look back, and offer a grin.
Turn down the diamonds and offer a kiss.
Finally, you are ready to begin.
I read a poem today that moved me beyond words. Any comment on it would pale in comparison to its impact, so instead here's a bit about how I view the author.
Honey laced milk chocolate nestled in pearls.
Onyx woven silk in ringlets and curls.
A sideways glance and the heart's string unfurls.
A kiss, a tug, and whispered words and sighs.
An enigma, a bond in blood never dies.
A moment held dear, life's ultimate prize.
As two but one, entwined, soaring free.
A trap sprung, yet we've no intent to flee.
Jodie, I love you. But do you love me?
Words words words