Kyle Fisher

Oct 2015

Joshua Haines

The sky, black as the eyes that stare at it.
Star-studded and as seamless as new programming.
I look down, the streets molested by fluorescent splotches --
red ribbons of memory evaporate from the lights of motorcycles,
gurgling by.

A homeless, pregnant woman, in a bar, once told me,
"Forgiveness is letting a prisoner free, then finding out that you were the prisoner."

The sunset looks like an explosion of emotions
no one understands, yet.

The smudges on her lips
look like the bruises of an orphan apple.

Ashland, Wisconsin

Kyle Fisher Oct 2015

U.S.A.

An admiration for abolition.
Close quarters conversation, and demolition.
Obstructive outbursts, constructive concerts,
and outraged rebellious rallies.
They preach round words, and mastered mortality catalysts,
soaked like dish towels.

Pen and paper,
barbed double edged razor wire,
and sharp teeth.
Hand tapered fine meats; an electrified man- reviver.
Perplexed attire,
liquor bottles and glass houses.
Insane models, fake **** in skin blouses.

Weaved baskets of silver trash,
and packed ground ashes.
The masses, pained by stained caskets,
and back lashes.
Oblivion shoves, and the brain passes.
The sadness.
Fertilized territories,
and athletes with vein madness.

Getting laid, and LED light brigades,
November no-shave, and long hair with viking braids.
Homeless, with no car and bike less.
Filling lungs up with nitrous.
Instantly flightless,
and magazines full of white ****** spiteness.
An officers flashlight kiss.
Nervousness, and ****** lips.
Love confusion, brought on by a ****** fist.

Lucrative ways to hang and sway.
Dangle from the chain of a rich gang banger,
as he fades to grey.
Rude assumptions, and high heeled country bumpkins.
Cracking the asphalt with their steel toes thumping.

What a great place to be.

©Kyle Fisher

#poem #people #crazy #rhymes #rhyme #poems #usa #rant #country #place

Kyle Fisher Oct 2015

Mental Dismemberment

Carve out a chunk,
the happiness hunk.
The one that stays clear
of all of the junk.

Without this fine piece,
one is never in least,
content with ones self.
A man without peace.

Take out the side,
with ego and pride.
That part is the worst,
Just set that aside.

Believe when they tell us,
it too, makes us jealous.
When envy is stricken,
a man over-zealous.

Cut out a slice,
and anger's the price.
Lets get rid of that,
it's not very nice.

See, this ones a cage,
where bad memories age,
and morph into new forms.
A man full of rage.

Punch out the holes,
that sadness controls.
It can be so hard,
when charred into souls.

Aside from the rest,
but, nested in best.
the sadness takes hold,
and a soul is depressed.

The thing that most feel,
has taken the wheel,
is fear in itself.
Although, its not real.

Fear is insane,
it confuses the brain,
into thinking its there.
A mans shadow of pain.

©Kyle Fisher

#poem #brain #mind #rhymes #rhyme #poems #think #emotions #cut #pieces

Kyle Fisher Sep 2015

Iron pig tails

Huddled in quasi-complexity,
my mind makes for itself shackles,
that bore their ends into brick walls.
Like iron pig tails, they restrict all movement.

Will these chains ever be discarded?
Or will they corrode from the longevity of bathing in saline tears?

©Kyle Fisher

#stuck

Kyle Fisher Sep 2015

Glass eyes

A splash of cool water runs down my face.
The droplets collide with dust
that is settled onto the backside of my callused hands.
I tighten my grasp on the edges of the pasty, beige colored sink,
and slowly tilt me head up.

My eyes open...

The room that was once well lit, is now darkened.
Revealing only my hazy silhouette in the mirror.
I stare into the glass for a moment.
Subconsciously criticizing the inadequate outline of the reflected shadow.

The door opens...

She steps in.
Her bare feet slightly sticking to the linoleum floor,
creating a small popping sound.
A single ray of light follows her,
like she was stepping onto a dark stage in a theatre full of thousands
glaring attentively.

My focus is pulled away from the cloudy pane of glass,
and is forced in her direction.
My entire being flutters with nervousness as she walks by.
Her silky blonde hair flowing as if an ocean breeze is passing over her.
A short lavender night gown is draped over her soft, pale skin.
Each passing second is highlighted by her perfect form,
as she glides by seemingly unaware of my presence.

Exiting without a second glance behind her,
she slowly shuts the rusty hinged, wooden door,
and the light diminishes.
I stand silently waiting; hoping the door will open again,
and the goddess enveloped in white will return.

Not a sound...

I turn again to the mirror.
One last chance to see myself clearly,
and hold on to that abruptly fleeting moment,
but,
when I adjusted my worried and desperate eyes,
I could no longer see my dark wavy silhouette.
It was void.
An empty mirror looked through my solid outer shell,
and saw nothing.
I looked down at my hands,
attempting to unravel the puzzling circumstance.

I too, saw nothing...

The floor beneath my feet started to tremble,
raising an ear piercing screech.
The gold lined window casing stretched and morphed,
leaving the glass without holding edges.
The pane drops,
crashing into the sink below.
Broken glass raises into the air, pieces of the woman in the lavender dress appear in the separate shards,
and the entire room disintegrates.

I am left...

Surrounded by a blank, cold atmosphere of white.
Alone, and with nothing,
I walk.
Forever...

#dream #poem #lonely #story #poems #prose #intense #vivid

Kyle Fisher Sep 2015

Haikus for the times

Deprivation stings,
descending through the levels,
I have much to learn.

Worn like blood-soaked shoes,
On the land of misnomers,
All of this is wrong.

Attempting to see,
Inside darkness without light,
such tragic attempts.

The end I do see,
Is coming all too quickly,
I hope you all know.

Be where there is love,
All things here are absolute,
Reside in the light.

©Kyle Fisher

#love #poem #sad #haiku #end #poems #light #like #open #higher

Kyle Fisher Sep 2015

Life Mastered

Traction,
It's keeping yourself on the alloted trail,
Like a group of spikes pertruding from your hiking shoes.
Hidden underneath bleak chances to run off course,
There is traction.

Ascension,
It's the higher sense of letting go,
Like a swell from the waters of slightly unsecured mentality.
Stationed right above the need for grounding.
There is ascension.

Illumination,
It's the spurt of clarity, intense maturity,
Like a smith of fine silver, molding his first ring.
Seeing what might be, and generating the material.
There is illumination.

Perfection,
Its understanding the material is but a spec of truth.
Like something without beginning,.. without end.
Immortal, appearing mortal,
But, sincerely niether
There is perfection.

That is what you are.
I am.

©Kyle Fisher

#love #poem #life #light #lifting #scheme #stance