Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
niall sheehy Feb 2013
Time Tracing.
Taken thoughts through broken seconds.
Once again,
this enclave,
this oasis
holds shadows of shattered city folk
who repose in yellowing leaves
and heavy air.

A manufactured spirit roars outside this  fundamental square;
a pulsating rolling mechanical moment
that turns tears to poison.

Down the road ancient gods bleed in forgotten palaces
where only the old worship now.
Youth sees hate;
Youth sees lies;
Youth sees life;
Outside the
burning heart.
niall sheehy Feb 2013
When I can’t prowl.
I feel trapped.

So I stand on doorways
Clown looking to ground.
Stared at and Snared.

I rhyme silly sounds
All round
caverns of slate
Tis there I dance.

Like the fury of hail
I mime and regale
In a vision of hell
lies my holy grail
niall sheehy Feb 2013
I dreamt once of a monk;
Who put paddle to water and wandered over oceans.

My dream;

My dream dreamt of women,
Draped in towels
Dripping their sweet sweat on his brow.

My dream;

My dream leaves me empty,
I dream of celibacy.

My dream?

I dreamt of ancient monasteries
Filled with mausoleums
And gravestones to great men,
A shattered core;
Where monk fearfully
Utter panic sing,

There is a pure thing.
niall sheehy Feb 2013
This is what I do when I can’t sleep.
Write my hate notes while others dream deep.
I draw shapes of plight with my pen
And I’m dysfunction and I’m all dark.
I can’t watch my rind wringed anymore.
Between bone and skin
Is a hole where my soul once flowed.
Now floored.
Beat back: broken back:
The stain of us.
The vacuum of us.
The timely death of us.
I draw shapes of plight with my pen
dreaming dysfunctions and all dark.
niall sheehy Feb 2013
sitting here,
the same empty feeling,
the same dryness of soullessness driving
an aggressive pact with the past.
Looking in at a life now gone,
I feel dissected by the eyes of strangers.
Am I now a desert?
today i feel like desert.
You, you have been the wind,
carrying parts of me
historic, abrasive elements
grains of me.
rushing at me
bringing them before in and around you
to erode a bit more
to break it down
and leave it dry
niall sheehy Feb 2013
These walls have eyes you know.
Another aesthetic second,
spoiled by the wailing walls
of a Meadow vale.
Moonbeams blowing at my web,
life, leased and brief.
Another eclectic second fused
by well and worn strings.
Their half life
A heaven of my thoughts.

— The End —