Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mercurychyld Mar 2015
“Why drive through this reality sober
as conformity and vapid rules testify,
freedom of speech and opinion, over
but, on chemistry we can rely.”

Moved around from place to place,
people come and go,
friendships seldom found or made,
none can really know.

Sweet Mother died; gone much too soon
and dearest Father cracked.
Nothing else to do but howl at the moon
and brain cells laced with happy pills,
intended to distract.

-by Mercurychyld
Inspired by a movie about a girl who moved around with her dad, and in their current small town, there's not a lot to do.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
As I walked one day, deep in thought and tasks to be completed, I caught a glimpse
of a wonder that affected my thinking.

There she was, a fragile miracle in between rocks and two slabs of concrete.
Even in the midst of such cold surroundings, she held her head up proudly to the sun
and opened her arms, as if in quiet challenge to the world around if to say
she's here, she's survived the violence of stomping feet, she's survived the harsh
elements and yet sprung forth and managed to shine in a place most others would've
simply withered away....and died.

Her beauty shone through, even in the depth of rocks and two slabs of concrete.
She knew her time was limited, but she also knew that while she had life,
the BEAUTY she was meant to be would emanate...for all to see.

And for me, that turbulent day, she was a smile from God; she was my miracle,
my hope, a small wonder that affected my thinking.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Jan 2015
Rocks and hard places,
that’s all there is…
for me.

I twist and turn
and rebel, and shatter
against all kinds of

Never a soft place
to land,
never at peace enough
to just let go
and BE what THEY
want of me.

I try to lift up and fly,
but these wings
cannot expand.
They’re weighted down
by bricks of
(mostly of self),
and breaches,
and betrayals,
and I can’t quite
catch a proper

No matter what is ever said,
no matter what is ever done,
it has never been
or ever shall be simply
“good enough”.

“Good enough,
great job,
‘ya done good”…
these are not the words
I see
in the cold, alarming
pointed right at me.

Why is the absolute
state of Death seem
ever so much more
waking each and every
day to merely feel
lost and astray?

Rocks and hard places,
bloodied bruises,
shredded faces…
wounds no one see
‘cause outside,
I’m a painted shell,
and I wear it well.
Isn’t that the point?
The game goes
like this:
the worse you feel
on the inside,
the more outwardly
beautiful you
must become
(hiding in plain sight).

So you find yourself
answering a question
with a question:

“Are you ok, you seem
so deeply troubled
and dismay?”

“Yes, but do I look good?”

‘Cause in the end,
THAT’S what people
will see.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 28 Jan 15
Depression, disappointment, pain.
Mercurychyld Oct 2014
It never lasts…
not long enough.
Always fleeting,
gone all too soon.
It’s a tease with
no ‘happy ending’.

Every so often
you get a piece,
just a small fragment,
just as quickly departed,
right as you were
getting accustomed
to it.

A stunning box
with intricate,
abstract designs,
but what you don’t
notice, till way
too late, is
that if you hold it
close, right up
to the light,
you will see the
fine cracks.

You’ll see it start
to chip away
as you scratch
the surface
with your nail,
and chunks of
false paint fall
to the ground,
and you find the ugly,
rusted color underneath
its artificial chiseled skin,
an imitation of beauty
which can truly only
live and shine
within the jagged
confines of the
imaginative mind.

Nothing really brings
joy; not BEING
any of the things
we’re expected
or required to be…
not being a mother,
not being a wife,
not being a daughter,
not being a sister.

Nothing really brings
but when it seems
you finally catch
a glimpse of it,
even for a small
snippet of time,
you must, painfully,
realize that it was
just your
untrustworthy eyes…

playing cruel tricks.

-by Mercurychyld
Misery, depression, disappointment; these things I understand. Happiness is an illusion.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Taken on a journey along the
expeditious jugular vein of
this existence, at a moment's
notice, with nary a warning,
I am seldom privy to the exact
location or final destination
of my numerous and dizzying
stops on the many roads of
this life.

I can only hope and pray for
the obvious illumination of
all that I am meant to see,
the clarity of mind with which
to appreciate it all, and the
wisdom to understand and
then impart the riddles,
thereby extending the best
of myself forward into this
vast universe.

This is my I sail along
this journey.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
I stood back, and simply silence..
as you went searching..
for me.

You searched everywhere,
high and low,
at every park,
in every bar,
through every store,
each passing car.

No stone did you leave
and I, stood back and
simply you searched
and searched..for me.

What you failed to
realize, as you
stepped all over reason,
and passed by every
was that I was there,
right there,
the whole entire time.

Always near,
never apart.

I was always there...
right under the surface
of your rhythmic,
beating heart.

-by Mercurychyld
For my Love. ~ ☀️ ~
Mercurychyld May 2015
Another Mother’s day upon us,
another deluge to
fill that ocean of tears
from years gone by.

A deep sadness takes hold,
reminding me of what a
dysfunctional circus this
Life has come to be,
trying not to repeat
my own mother’s mistakes.

Hindsight is 20/20,
so they say, but
it doesn’t matter
since you can never, ever
change yesterday.

I dreamed of giving
my sons all the things
I never had, but I look
around and clearly witness
that my efforts have
often been in vain.

A mother’s heart dies
a little more each day
as it travels the path
now chosen,
and for past sins
I and my children
do most definitely pay.

Lightning and thunder
always rumbling’.
The anger and melancholy
makes one want to run
screaming and slam into a
brick wall, so as not to
feel so intensely alone.

One “special day” a year;
an insult and a joke,
meant to placate the
exhaustion and madness
Motherhood can provoke.

I hate the hypocrisy of
it all,
like a band aid on
a deep ****.

Always doing the brunt
Of the ***** work;
We will always cry more,
worry more,
suffer and feel more.

Mocked for our sentiments
and opinions,
for our need to be heard
and taken to heart,
and tending to our
                    quiet rage, warranted anxiety
and fears.

The world doesn’t really care
whether or not we are
truly “happy mothers”,
the evidence tells no lies.

So, forgive my bluntness
(or not, doesn’t really matter),
but for me
Mother’s day doesn’t really
hit the spot.

Too often most forget
That the very days that
mean joy and cheer for some,
for others can bring
nothing but isolation
and pain, not understood
by the festive crowds.

I often wonder,
who creates these
“special days” anyway?

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Mar 2015
Days ago
there was a battle;
a struggle with waves of
relentless fury and
a choking sorrow,
wounds left to bleed,
but no one else could
know or see.

These wretched winds
were too intense for
me alone to stop;
I tried to reign them in,
but just could not.

Wrestling with injuring
thoughts and chaotic
emotions, alone,
I hadn’t realized another
was watching, guarding
over me, so to speak.

A silent sentinel,
waiting, observing,
making sure that no one
else got hurt
by the brutal storm
raging deep.

The whole time
he lovingly held the reigns,
and now handed them back
over to me.
He placed them gently
in my naked hands,
as his remained leathered
and gloved.

Now I wake
and a blanket of sorrow
covers me, like a
worn sweater,
but the dangerous winds
have died down;
I can once again handle them,
on my own.

None other can truly ‘see’
beneath the layers of
foreign smiles and
thoughtful words,
but he can;

he knows this ache,
understands the dark melody
and in kindness he rides,
he rides
just for me.

I sit high upon the tallest tree
just to witness
with my heart and soul
this thrilling ride he takes,
for me.

Round and round he goes,
gracefully weaving and swerving
to and fro.

For him there is no need
of practice,
yet he rides just for me,
‘cause he knows it
simply makes me happy.

The sounds of the engine,
the leathered hands
gripping the handles,
clutch and throttle;
a most beautiful sight to see,
and he does all this
whenever there’s need.
He does this all
for me.

An intricate flow
of movement,
this connection between
a rider and his bike.

A fascinating exchange
between flesh and machine,
as I have resigned myself
to never truly knowing it,
as I watch this
Angel on wheels.

He rides and swerves
with never a stutter,
never a clumsy fall,
and I simply smile
as it fills me with a
modicum of glee
as I get to watch
as he rides,
rides so skillfully,
just for me to see…

this Angel on wheels.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 28 March 15
Feeling very disappointed in myself after taking a riding course,
but not quite making it. Leaves a big hole and a sad humiliation. I really wanted to have something to connect me to my estranged brother and father, who both ride. Guess it wasn't meant to be. Back to life then.
Mercurychyld Jun 2015
Who could’ve thought…
certainly not me…
how the fires of love
would burn so intensely,
and consume me
in the miniscule span
of three precious weeks.

Actually though,
it was longer;
it began
eight months earlier;
before the final
three weeks of  your
most cherished life.

It was before I
tenderly touched
your fragile skin,
so paper thin,
and looked into those
beautiful amber eyes,
when you’d open them.

My own amber eyes
looking back at me.
You were my mirror
and I had no idea, then,
just what I’d see,
or what YOU could see
as you looked right
into me.

You, my little one,
showed me a part of
myself I never thought
before you.

If I hadn’t held you
for the treasured
time allowed,
if I hadn’t felt you
with my own skin,
seen you with my
own eyes,
reached out with my
own heart,
or enveloped you with
my own mind,
I wouldn’t have believed
how much the fickle
fires of the heart could
grow, expand and
utterly consume me,
in the span of those
three precious weeks.

The moment you exhaled
your last little breath
and died in my arms,
you took a piece of
my very soul
with you.

Keep it safe, my love.
You planted it deep
within you long ago,
allowing it to grow.

I love you always,
of that never, ever doubt…
till we meet again
my treasured
first born.

I missed you then,
I miss you still,
and for forever
always will.

-by Mercurychyld

~ In remembrance of my
Giovani, born and died
14 years ago this 5th
of July. Never forgotten.~
Most others have forgotten or put it out of their minds...but a mother never can. I will forever be marked. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
I love the feel of your hands
as they travel and caress.

I hate the feel of those hands
as they punish with duress.

I love the sound of your voice
as it whispers such an intimate

I hate the sound of that voice
so full of the venom often

I love the look in your eyes,
the way they watch me and stare.

I hate the look in those eyes,
so cold, unfeeling...such a
wicked glare.

I HATE that I LOVE you!

By Mercurychyld
This was from a past situation, not recent, in case anyone wondered.
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
Atop a hill
most glorious and tall,
you stand as constant
reminder of
judgement for all.

Primordial symbol
of ancient tradition
and the God-given right
to practice volition.

Infinite laws and rules
serve as soul's taxation,
but in the end, most of
those will not purchase,
for us, our ultimate

-by Mercurychyld
Re: the symbol of the cross
Mercurychyld Sep 2016
As to all
there be a season,
joy would not
taste as sweet without
the bitter spice
of tears,

loyalty would not have
its bonding powers
without the sting
of betrayal,

and a rose would not
be as fragrant
or as dazzling
without its
very thorns,

for it would then
be something other
than what it was
meant to be.

by Mercurychyld
Copyright 31 Aug. 2016
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
I see,
I know,
I feel,
I recognize your pain.

All that you attempt to hide
from the world is a gloriously
open book...for me.

For, you see, I live in that
same pain as well.

We are neighbors, you
and I, though you
don't seem to know it.

We share adjoining rooms bookends,
holding up the spined
volumes of our
injured, fragile

But no fear,
for what I've seen
and all I know..of you...
will never leave my
sight and will never
be discarded or
disclosed to others
who will never,
could never...
truly understand.

You mean more to me
than even I dare admit,
and you always inspire
worlds of thought,
as you have carved
yourself a unique
space in this tattered
and I will protect this
'gift' of you...

as long as I draw breath.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
The great Moon rises
a phoenix ascends from ash
a cold heart ignites.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 8 Aug. 14
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
As I sit and watch the leaves
falling off the branches of trees
I can't help but wonder how it would be
to have our most painful memories just fall away.. like withering leaves.
But then I remember that it is there, in the midst of
painful moments,
when we crash against those immovable rocks that the most resilient of character in us is
coaxed out of the darkness
and brought forth...
into the light.

By Mercurychyld
Sad memories, falling away likes leaves.
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
The many highways and varied roads we travel each day
are lined with much danger and pent up rage.
A sense of anger that is a constant potential time bomb
just waiting to go off.

Many paths are taken at every moment of our lives.
Some roads are quiet, surrounded by solitary vegetation,
some roads are long drawn and monotonous, coaxing you
to fall asleep at the wheel.
Still, others are surrounded by dread and danger on
either, safety is a seldom seen luxury.


You have only to watch your daily news to witness
countless examples of a festering that every day,
in different ways, just boils over to a culminating
point where both victim and victimizer take a
proverbial bullet.

Children killing children, mama's selling themselves
to feed one or more 'juniors', daddy...where is
daddy in most cases?


These pathways and roads on life's highways are
littered with our minute to minute decisions and
bring equal consequence at every turn.
Many times the challenge becomes exiting any
number of one way streets where hate and
collective fury reside, and finding passage to the
expressway leading to boulevards of understanding,
compassion and an enlightened view of our
fellow commuters.


Soon...very soon...this world; our world, the only
one we've got...will implode then explode then ball
itself up into a fetal position, and finally drink its
own bitter, fallout tainted tears as each last
survivor...remembers...what once was...


I'm afraid...YOUR TIME IS UP!!!

-by Mercurychyld
Rage, disappointment, disgust of life sometimes...I know these well!
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Among the silent,
halls of the mind,
there are pathways
one should seldom
roam, for, often,
the bitterest of
fruit grows between
the walls of an
intricate cognitive

I walk the very
walkways that will
either lead me to
self-destruction or
to enlightenment
and divinity.

I walk quietly,
tiptoeing around
certain memories,
so as not to awaken
them from their
slumber, and
incur their wrath.

I walk on glass
footsteps, as the
shards make their
way in through
broken arches,
in search of a place
to call home,
among the ruins of
a broken spirit
and a bludgeoned,
weeping heart.

Such is love and life
and the ever present
shadow of remembrance,
and still I walk,
leaving scarlet
footprints along
the way...

to remember
where I've been.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Feb 2015
The truth lies
not in her eyes,
for she learned
long ago
how to forge
desperate lies.

It's as she was
conditioned to do...
to tell lies
with her eyes,
and beguile
with her smile.

The truth lies
not in her eyes,
but if you must know
just where her
verity dwells...

it's in her voice...

the timber,
the rhythm,
the words,
the whispers
in the sound.

It's in her voice
that her truth
will be found.

Can you hear it?

By Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
The truth lies
not in her eyes,
for she learned
long ago
how to forge
desperate lies.

It's as she was
conditioned to do...
to tell lies
with her eyes,
and beguile
with her smile.

The truth lies
not in her eyes,
but if you must know
just where her
verity dwells...

it's in her voice...

the timber,
the rhythm,
the words,
the whispers
in the sound.

It's in her voice
that her truth
will be found.

Can you hear it?

By Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Mar 2015
At times in life
we need to be reminded
how there are gifts
and blessings we often
take for granted.

Not on purpose,
not at all, but,
life gets in the way.
The constant struggles
can make any
silver lining seem
galaxies away.

During the darkest
moments, when I wake
each day,
going through the
motions of the daily grind,
I realize that I was
gifted with a few
amazing, inspiring
and loyal companions;

those I am truly
honored to call
my ‘friends’.
Friends in the truest
sense of the word.
Special people who
have shown me time
and time again
what it means to be loved,
and without judgement
or pause.

Even as pieces
of the heart splinter
and crack due to, often,
unforeseen events,
they are always there
to catch me,
if and when I fall.

I will remember
(to remember),
these comrades
God has placed in
my life;
those who know me,
accept me, splinters and all,
and love me,

come what may.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 27 March 15
An ode to those awesome friends/sisters who are always there, no matter what, and vice-versa.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
I suspect...
the lights burned out
long ago,
the heart stopped
the lips stopped
parting to speak,
the hands stood
as the mind
I suspected...
though you lacked
courage to tell.
The irony is, your
grandest display
of disgrace
delivered me my
greatest liberation,
for the gloves
have come off,
the masks have
the lies have
ceased, and I
can finally clearly
see what truly
behind your eyes.

-by Mercurychyld
This is regarding a nasty beast who was one of THE best liars, deceivers and actors I ever met.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Between earth and sky
is where I abide.

Grass grows beneath my
feet and inbetween
moments of deep thought,
longings and unuttered

as I sit, communing
with the trees

and for a while, just
doing as they do...

just simply 'being',
no matter what

as they hold majestic
limbs up
toward the heavens

in adoration or

And that is but
speculation or
on my part.

I sit, quietly,
somewhere between
this moment
and tomorrow

and wonder those
simple, complex
questions of old...

What does it all mean,
in the end?
What price do we pay
for passion or apathy?
Why are we here?

In my mind
worlds collide, die
and begin again

and this most
encumbered heart
still holds hope
by the throat,
refusing, yet, to
let go.

Between earth and sky
is where I abide.

That is where
you'll find me.

Full to the brim,
with questions,
wild, vibrant dreams,
and a never ending
of wonder.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Life throws
live bombs at you;
manipulation by
‘so called’
loved ones,
betrayal of trust,
****** of innocense,

all contributing
to the grand design
and creation of a
sorrowful, raging monster;
a special breed.

You come to
discover and sharpen
the only real
you possess…


These words
become like machetes,
cutting and chopping
through bone.

These words
become the lethal
bullets that
deep into the
crevices of
heart and mind.

within the vast
depth of yourself
you find a strength
and courage,
in between
the layers of
rusted scars,

creating a new
one who will
stand up for you,
when your fragile

This creature
takes the brunt
of the hurt
and fear
directed your

Those that pretend
to love you,
yet cause only harm,
witness this savior
you’ve borne,
and have the nerve
to be offended.

Often these
find it quite
entertaining to
watch and listen

as you tear
another apart.

That is,
until you turn,
and point your revolver…

at THEM.

Bang! Bang! goes
that gun,
and down they go,
by your own hand,
and you can
only offer up
an amused grin…

as they
bite the bullet!

~ by Mercurychyld
Retaliation, revenge, Karma
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Living in a world WITHIN the dilapidated walls of this world,
they roam through the darkness on the very streets only
angels and demons dare to tread.

Yet to these bottom dwellers, those very streets, they call HOME.
Under the shadow of night they live...they breed...they draw
blood, when they must, as a means of survival.

They scatter to the four winds at the break of day, though a few
stragglers you'll often see...getting in the way of the busy,
bustling life, there on those streets.

Streets filled with incessant traffic, deafening noise, blaring voices
and most of all...the self-centered masses that too often miss
the trees for the forest.

Once upon a time they had names, and faces, an identity; an
essential, accountable part of this upper world, abuzz with
energy and notoriously fast pace.

Now, they are merely the bottom dwellers, discarded, forgotten,
living in holes, caves, under the very bridges through which
the 'great mass' travels; living in cardboard boxes, nursing
decayed hearts, broken spirits, greeted with scorn, spit, sarcasm
and they attempt to, often, travel back up top and

They paint our fast food doorways and ATM's with quiet, desperate
humility, loss and justified anger, while every worldly possession
(the ones they haven't had stolen, or been stabbed for) they
carry like broken treasure in a shopping cart.

This 'great mass' looks upon them as outcasts, too lazy, just crazy,
society's shame...but oh how lame, since 'they' could always be...
you...and me.

by Mercurychyld
Ode to the homeless; one of the world's greatest shames. :-(
Mercurychyld Mar 2015
Long ago,
seems a century ago now,
I came upon what I
thought was a jewel
in the sand;

a diamond in the rough.
The most valuable jewel
I possessed,
one day I took a
closer look and discovered
my diamond was not
a diamond at all,
or any kind of precious stone.

It had lost its luster
and in my hand all I had
was a broken piece of glass,

it cut me.

-by Mercurychyld
* I wrote this years ago, while going through a betrayal then a divorce. It's been reworked a bit from its original.*
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Ask me not the question unless you truly burn for an answer
but be forewarned,
for there will always be a door through which you may not enter,
a depth of heart
you cannot reach,
a path into the soul
you will never truly know.
Do not bedevil yourself in trying to find
these cryptic places,
for they are not yours to find.
But only be satisfied
to know the profound places to which you are invited and allowed to see...
do not search for more.
Only take what is granted you and know that in that moment, at that
time, it is the best of me
and all is as it should be.
And ask me not the question...
unless you can bear the burden.. of my truth.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Feb 2015
If I had but just one wish,
I’d break it into levels
which would more
than likely be this…

I’d wish to REMEMBERS...
remember the hard
lessons learned
this time around.

Most, painfully learned;
a few amusingly found.

I’d want to fulfill
all the promises
I made to myself.

Promises sacred
to the heart
and kept safe
and hidden
on a figurative shelf.

how I wanted to
draw and write,
sing and dance
and run and fly

as free and far as ever,
just gliding through
the sky.

I’d not forget
that the current facts
of my life were, in fact,
NEVER part of my plan.

For me, I did not envision
nuptials or children
or being indebted
to any man


next time I’ll finally
get things right.

My life will be
a miracle of friendships and
beauty and art and music
in all forms.

All these and more
will then fill my
curious appetite.

Sorrows, fears, and worries
will NOT take over
my new world.

Only my innate sense
creativity, imagination
and wonder
shall then be

I will never HAVE to
share, give up, or
compromise a thing,
unless it is by choice.

My restless soul smiles
Inside when I stop to
envision these things,
and to them give
full voice.

If I ever get but just one wish
it would most likely be this…

next time around
I’ll not allow the trials
of life or selfishness of others
ever impede my search
for my genuine self
or my personal bliss.

-by Mercurychyld
Just thinking of how life actually turns out, as opposed to, often, what we imagined it would or could be.
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
The sun wakens
and shines upon
weary eyes, and
grins softly to
itself as it hears
the countless bids
for 'just a few...

The day begins
with the usual
hustle and bustle,
and the yawning
pleas to the gods
of tea and java.

But then...
the night envelops
the land, and while
most do sleep...
the others come
out to dance by
the light of the
goddess moon.

The memories of
yesterday and a
long gone today
frolic 'round the
playground of
the mind.

As daylight stirs,
the voices slumber
as life's many
distractions take

but then..the night
draws out the silent
tears and the wails
of the deepest heart
that you dare not
reveal by the light
of day

and when all else is
asleep, the children
of the tender night
step out from
shadows for we
all know...
the night always

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Calling on Angels
from celestial planes and Earth;
we must begin with ourselves.

We each must decide.
We all heed this call each day;
tested by action and word.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
He is the painter,
painting images of
desperate desire
and vistas of love
and secret knowledge,
upon her skin.

Each patient and
skillful brushstroke,
weaves obscure
and cryptic symbols
in subtle, vibrant
tones upon the
supple texture of
her curving form.

She is a leather bound
swelling with promise
of verses and poems
yet to be birthed.

He is the quill,
his ink flowing
spilling fertile words...

filling her every page.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
In the end
the lone survivor
comes to learn,
a bit too late,
what is his, and their
and our
ultimate fate.

He learns that he,
and all fallen
were merely
chess pieces
on God’s
well worn
playing board.

Some pieces are
made of
some are made of
others still,
made of

but, they all fall
in the end.

One will drown,
one will fall off
a cliff,
and break his
and yet another
will get ripped apart
and eaten
by a pack of
rabid wolves,

but they all fall
in the end.

And only God decides,
who, what, where
and why.

- by Mercurychyld
Inspired by a movie about a group of men trying to survive a plane crash, in a snowed region.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
How DARE you
call me
ANYTHING at all!

What gives you
the right?
Who fed you
sweet lies
and convinced you
“your **** don’t stink”
and you drip
of righteousness?!

that’s what
you said, right?

So now I’M sick
merely because
I write and
I’m honest on
these pages,
as I metaphorically
bleed all over
with uncharacteristic
disregard for the mess
I may have made?

Don’t EVER
poetic sweetness
for mortal weakness.

Maybe YOU’RE
the weak one;
the SICK one.

By the way,
who told you
you could ‘write’...

No, I’d really
like to know,
‘cause the gloves
are off.

You started this,
but I will
END it.

I’ll stop here
or I’ll go on
for days,
and do it with a
Cheshire grin
as I tear you

You wanna see
SICK darlin’?

Come closer...
if you

-by Mercurychyld
*******...annoyed...offended; yup!
Mercurychyld Jul 2014
So full of yourself
And your brand of arrogant

Who are you
and what is your
importance in the grand
scheme of things…

namely MY things?

I’ll tell you,

You are no one
And worth nothing.
Your empty, fraudulent
words are about as
valuable as a counterfeit
dollar bill,

and that’s just
what you proved to be…


No one blinder than one
who can’t or just won’t

Too blinded and deafened
by your own
narcissistic reverie.

I truly hope
you subscribe to
the ‘lone wolf’s’ life
you see,

‘Cause very much alone
is exactly what
you’ll always be.

~ by Mercurychyld
Copyright 17 July 14
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
A place in the country is where I'll retreat.
A place in the country is where two will meet.
A place in the country is where I'll find peace.
A place in the country is where all stress will cease
Let's rest a while, you and I.
Let's lock away grief and worry.
Let's rest a while, you and I.
Life just goes by in such a hurry.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
I thrive on the subtlety
of the dance,
and the mystery of
breathless romance.

As the arms interlock
with such grace,
elegant finesse and
and the intensity of
sensual emotions
come alive,
played out in a
connection of such
passionate coercion.

Firm hands to curved
the slow meeting of
burning eyes,
the soft graze of
moist lips.

The music consumes
us as the tempo
does rise and fall...
and we glide and move
in rapturous trance
and heed the lover's

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Feb 2015
Agnes was certainly no beauty by any
standard of the day, not even 'pretty'
really. Not the type anyone would
notice as she'd scurry through a room.

Surely her stress ridden life added to
the many wrinkles and dark circles
that plagued her face, and the weathered
look of her eyes and skin, and sunken

To meet her gaze was to witness a far
off, blank expression, where once
emotion and thought were reflected.

Until the day she came toward me with
a box. She sat by me, looked into my
eyes, and spoke in a manner and voice
I'd never heard from her...almost

She explained how she'd saved and
saved, secretly, with the hope that
one day she'd find something she
believed in strongly enough to invest
in...and, that day was today, and that
'something' was ME!

As she spoke, I came to see her in a
different light. With each passing
sentence carried by her voice, the
wrinkles and ravages of time seemed
to fade. With each passing minute,
the years in her eyes seemed to melt
away and her light shone through,
and I could swear I saw her once
young, vibrant self, smiling at me.

In that small, significant pocket of time
she had looked upon me and found
someone who needed her, once again
truly needed her, and I had found in
her someone who believed, finally truly me.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014

Let us go,
you and I

down into
the rabbit hole.

Let me be...
your filling dessert,
your wicked garden.

Pluck the thorny rose
and warm the frigid
with the warmth of
your honey wine.

my silvery
dark prince
in that vase
field of gold.

As your lips,
the heat of your
the timber of your
whispered sweet
your skillful hands,
and the story in
your eyes...
send chills of ecstasy
down my spine

and impassioned fumes
besiege my mind.

Let me..
get under your skin,

Let me...
****** you..
from within.

Take my hand,
follow me

together we'll be

You and I,
together as one
shall go...

down, into
the rabbit hole.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
What a thing is this...
this spellbinding language in a KISS?

A kiss will tell of tender love,
like holy manna from up above.

A kiss will say hello;
by dewy greeting, much fondness
will show.

A kiss will say 'I must now leave,
but I shall return', in the meantime
leave you in a dreamer's wake,
to slowly burn.

A kiss has many mysteries to relay,
filled with lavish fury
to eagerly display.

A kiss has skill to vindicate,
and yet, with one touch,
to enemy, annihilate

In a kiss you may find betrayal
when the character of one
is thus frail.

In a kiss you will find
the beginning of new life, as hope renewed,
and a soul connects to another;
vile, painful pasts subdued.

In a kiss you will find tempestuous
passions less contained,
as undulating needs claim you
as their intended and perfect domain.

Such, and yet so much more, is this...
the ever mystical language..
the enigma...of a KISS...

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
Welcome to his world
where he reigns supreme.

Hovering over you,
sprinkling seeds of dreams,
watching them blossom,
as he just steps back.

Daylight has nothing
on the mystical Night.

The night is wrought
with dreams,
both good and bad,
chasing images and places,
people and things
which only make sense…

under the Sandman’s veil.

Lions with purple afros,
Fairies wearing combat
boots and wings,
******, adventures
upside down,
spiritual entities
floating in the middle
of a citrine
crystal sea.

These are but a few things
we may see in dreams,
under dancing eyelids,
under cover of dark.

We step into a world
where the odd and
cryptic and usually strange
are nothing
but the norm.

A world where
flying elephants
who sit a while to chat,
are never cause to
bat an eyelash…

until you awaken.

The hustle and bustle
during hours of the sun,
come to a close
at the end of days

Daylight has nothing
on the mystical Night.

-by Mercurychyld
* Ode to the world of sleep and dreams. *
Mercurychyld Feb 2015
I am
my very best friend
and most prominent

I am
the keeper of
all my secrets
and the teller
of some.

I am
the great, unnerving
adventure that
never ends.

I am
consumed by
curiosity and wonder,
and seldom pacified
with answers

which only lead me
down yet another
tangled web.

I am
the poetry in motion
and the walking story
in my head,

dressed in
scads of tendrils
colored in ideas
and thoughts.

I am
the sinner
and the saint.

I cast a shadow
at whim,
even when there is
no sun.

I am
the magic elixir
and I am
the wine.

I am
the great Oz,
the Capt. Hook,
and the mad
Mad Hatter
of my world.

Always be aware,
stay constantly alert,
for not even I know
through which trap door
I will go
within the labyrinth
of this mind...

leaving a bit
of shrouded evidence

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
You see it coming,
for you,
or perhaps you don’t.

Either way
it comes full force,
burning everyone
and everything
in its wake
(in its way),
like Lava;
till it reaches your feet.

It reaches you,
hissing at your heels,
but you continue
walking down
and over
along determined

Others attempt
to run,
falling at your feet,
while they smoke
and hiss,
and death wraps
its tendril-like fingers
around their
many never
get away.

Lethal, angry
winds threaten,
calling out
your undoing,
you champion

You’ve always
known this path,
drudging on
sometimes with
energy and
tenacious need...
to go on
and make
good time
to wherever
you’re ultimately
many times
not even knowing

yet persistence
wins out
as you diligently
force your feet
to keep moving...
never back.

but resolute,
you can’t see more
than three feet
in front of you,
often times
your poor vision
playing tricks
on you...

You can’t see
too far ahead,
but some voice
deep inside
tells you,
coaxes you,
to keep legs moving
and eyes front
and forward,
never back,
till you
finally arrive.

Seeing for the
first time,
with new,
clear vision,
that this walk
was purposeful
and not in vain.

This arduous hike
through storms,
enduring the
violent debris,
was not without
rhyme or reason...

it was a
journey as,
on this often
harried trek,
you found
nothing more
and nothing
less than...

who you are
and what you were
always meant to be,
and now
you’ll get to shine,
wild and bright

for all to see.

-by Mercurychyld
Re: the often long, difficult path through life and old habits.
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
The morning comes
and the alarm sounds,
alerting me that its
time to get up
and begin our
morning routine.

First day
of the new
school year.

I watch as
my sons get
eat breakfast,
and ready for
their first day.

Nerves are rumbling
in little stomachs,
but, there is also
a sense of excitement
at the thought of
seeing old friends.

This day reminds me
of renewal,
and the beginning,
ending, a new beginning
of stories and chapters
already lived,
and stories yet to be
played out
on life’s
proverbial stage.

They are my heros,
my little ones,
in more ways
than one.

I only pray
their first day
is better than
mine used to be,
growing up.

They are not
as awkward or shy
or broken,
full of attacks of
nerves and anxiety,

almost to the point
of crippling,
or doubling over
with stomach pains,
all from the stress...

of the first
day of school.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Mar 2015
These city streets are lined with decay,
just look out the window,
you'll see spoils and rot on display.

Makes me often wonder just
how we came to be where we are.
While the righteous weren't looking
the hounds of hell dragged our
earth too far.

Our one true home is full of death
and discord,
while the little guy suffers,
the masters grow fat, rich and bored.

The 'fat cats' get portly as the
gluttons **** the land,
leading poor and weak to
with a damning, insatiable stand.

Where do we go to seek shelter
from this man made storm?

What do we hold onto in a world
so dis-eased and forlorn?

If survival is yet an attainable dream,
the seeds of destruction and doom
must be pried from the hearts
of men.

As I look out the window and see
this world in disturbing disarray,
the one thing I do know is that,
hope lies within each of us...
at the dawn
of each day.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Oct 2015
My heart never stops
breaking, caving into
I’m often so surprised
to have any pieces left.
I never wanted to
be like “her”; like my
mother, yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
full of guilt.

A guilt that never wanes
or ever could.

I read many books,
many genres.
Some truly make
me face what my heart
knows too well;
this deep sense of guilt.

As I read of characters;
multifaceted, complex men
who step up and love
and raise their sons
and daughters,
I am reminded,
time and again,
that MY sons do not,
or ever will have,
that kind of blessing.

No great male example
to learn from,
to spend time with,
to show them how to
become good Godly men.

Those moments cause me
to question and doubt
myself, as a mother.

I never wanted to be
like “her”; my mother,
with her revolving door
of ****** men
for one reason or another,
yet here I sit,
thinking, feeling,
reminded of how I too
have failed.

The sins of the parents
shall be visited upon
the children…
for that I’m so
very, very sorry
My sons.

The hot tears fall
and the heart disintegrates,
and the anger-sadness grows…
anger mainly at myself.

brought us all to
where we are today.

Culpability overload.
I wonder, does God
blame me?
Will my sons?
Not that I would ever
blame either if they do.

If I could go back,
if I could begin again,
what would I change?

This is the question
as the familiar pangs
of guilt grow like weeds,
and never subside.

To my sons,
for all of my mistakes
and wrong decisions,
both before and after
your births,
decisions that leave
imprints on your
lives as well…

I am Forever sorry.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 12 Oct. 15
I notice what my sons missed out on, as I did; the true love and devotion of a good father, and it's a huge burden that does now and will always haunt and torment me. : (
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Snap, Crackle and Pop
Muscles flap and Joints will creak
The music begins.

-by Mercurychyld
Mercurychyld Feb 2016
She walks in circles
ever confused in this life
in the grips of fear.

~ by Mercurychyld
(Aka Maria E Labbe)
Copyright 22 Feb 16
Mercurychyld Sep 2014
Perception, my Queen
Battles fought and lost in Ire
Tempted to lash out

Emotions aroused
Moods kindled in Fire
Umbrage is provoked

Insanity rules
Trangression is drug of choice
Penance never paid

Sanity long gone
A new face in the mirror
Mayhem’s melody

-by Mercurychyld
Annoyance, Irritable...**** it all. ~ Insert ******* here ~
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Lips to Lips consumed
Drink of the flowing nectar
Pouring out for you

Eyes linger on curves
Landscape feeds a mutual need
Enraptured with Want

Hand in Hand we walk
Side by side in Desire
Ecstacy and Bliss

-by Mercurychyld
* For my Wolf*
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Listen to the Wind
Carrying your Memories
Like ghosts through the Trees

Love is kinder now
Though it oft’ wears two faces
For me, it now Sings

Forgiveness of Self
Redemption is a true gift
Mercy and Grace reign

Seeing through cold eyes
Self Esteem is degraded
Turn their voices off

Come away with me
Where together we can be
Anything we wish

The Stars are alligned
Two have found their missing halves
All is now at Peace

~by Mercurychyld
Each one seperate, yet interconnected
Mercurychyld Jun 2015
Compelled by the wind
set adrift alone at sea
my heart finds no ease

A lost soul cries out
loudest silence ever heard
falling on deaf ears

The semblance of youth
a clock ticking life away
a heart torn apart

-by Mercurychyld
Next page