Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
phil roberts
When it's late
Don't mess with sticky notions
Don't fool with dangerous spaces
There is no peace in such locations
And time shall have all traces
Of the needed restraint and sobriety
To see us to our dotage

But then
How else are we to grow?
And then again
Who  wants a dotage?

Because when it's late
Mocking caverns of reality yawn
And toil tedium and trivia
Are in the eyes of statues
And these cry glass marble tears
Because they cannot move
They cannot leave the ground
Their lowered heads like ageing flowers
Sadly shrunken and dried
With a gluttony of hours
And all love of life long gone
That's when it's late

                                 By Phil Roberts
as the nightime ends
the sea of light washes in
with waves of colour
Haiku
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
Sin
Sickness
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
Sin
I wanna confess what I did was wrong
I took the night where I belong
And stole your life with my blade
Made you enjoy a lifeless play
You was the girl I couldn't have
Laying there barely dressed
In your ******* no bra
I must confess

Why did I do it, hell I don't know
But you were there and I just showed
Took my chance that night
To steal your soul
I was gonna love ya didn't you know

But I've this animal deep inside
It feeds on hate and ***** lies
On taking away a girl or two
Touching her at night
Making her blue

No one will see that I can't stop
So when they catch me
And want me to rot
I'll relive this dream over again
And feel the fire
Ahh it drives me insane

So go a head and throw the key
Lock me in the dark solitary
But make no mistake
I'll never forget
Your soft warm flesh
And how you begged
I don’t know if you know
I carry you
in an involuntary sigh
in a constant exodus of yearning
and in the frantic deepness of all
nostalgic thought, shaking time and distance
to place me near you
in the closeness of your warmth
remembered

I carry you in sorrow
precipitated
in the absence of your voice
and in the memory of your rib cage molded
in the shape of ardent weakness
my embrace

I carry you, the braille at the tip of my fingers
life drawn in lines on my left palm
and in the carcass of calm interrupted
by the pounding of a heart’s ill-time

I don't know if you know, but
I carry you in the crown of memories consoled
and in the spine of excess
where I fall, between involuntary sighs
defeated
in your skin remembered
from the confines
of the heart
On a night...just a night.
Next page