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Turrets and towers and a fortified keep
all protected by barbicans of stone
encircle a heart that solitary beats
besieged by being alone
The curtain wall rises terribly high
behind a dark, wide, and deep moat
behind both hides a soul with a sigh
draped in a man-at-arms’ coat
The banners are torn and raggedly hang
far above the desolate ward
while the heart hopes for a cannonade’s bang
to free itself with a stroke of a sword
And there approaches on the sunlit plain
a fellow heart with siege engines in train
A very personal poem about loneliness and depression. Dedicated to my wife.
A lone tree stands
Its colour fades,
Leaves muted
By the grey

Dense fog
Blinds the copse
Their shadows
Slip away

By Darren Wall ©
Klausyuer Oct 2
"
Should we just die?
But why?
We’ve wandered far and wide—
Through bustling streets,
And eerie ones too.
Vibrant places,
So fun,
Our happy home,
Now a crying home.
It was joyous while it lasted—
Lively school,
But it teased our death.
Our dreams aren’t here.

Did you forget
That we’re alright?
You love to lie—
It’s not what your mom taught you;
It’s you!
Life taught us,
Stole from us, gave us.
Life is rich,
Life is poor,
Life is my friend,
My only foe.
Who handed me
This rope?

You're greedy, right?
Hoarding life—
Left and right,
Far and wide.
You can do it.
See that light?
It’s too far—
Too hard.
Alone,
I’m scared,
Help me!
It’s all in your head.
You’re alive, you’re fine.
Just keep going,
You’ll get there—
I am here.


But it’s too dark,
I can’t see.
Too cold,
No warmth.
Too silent,
I can’t hear.
I’m sad,
But I want to smile.
Alone,
But I need a friend.
Dying inside,
But I want to live.
You see? You’re fine.
Because you tell a lie
All the time,
So you’ll be fine.

Who are you anyway?
The one who mocks—
Talk, stalk.
My foe,
My friend,
Lies,
Truth,
Life,
Death?
Who are you?
You’re in my head.
Get away!
See this rope?
I’ll be hanging around...
I smile,
And I wave,
My goodbye.

Wait!
You’ll leave me alone?
I’m your only friend,
Your sanity,
Depravity,
Hope,
Despair.
I am you,
My lovely child—
It's too early
For you to die.

We’ve come far and wide—
There’s more to steal from life,
The one who stole our love
And our hope.
Let’s keep lying.
You long for the truth, right?
That we’re not alone,
We are loved,
We are cherished,
We matter.
So keep running!
The light is too far,
But we hate the dark anyway—
Let’s keep lying,
Dying,
Reliving,
Living,
Dreaming,
Chasing
The light,
To steal back my hope
And hear
Our cherished truth.
"
-Klausyuer The ****** Poet
Immortality Sep 30
I just laughed it off,
but was I happy?

They look with hopeful eyes,
but was I ready?

Their expectations
pushed me into deep hell,
where Lucifer asked me,
"Are you fine?"
Societal expectations will bury you deep in hell....................................................
blank Sep 28
i laugh without listening
and cancel all my plans

in black and white
dressing every windshield in dew

i dream of you in bars
in bars
i wake up wallowing
hollow
in all our distances and headaches

every day a ****** hangover
my dry eyes are rooftiles
in wait
for the acid come pouring
out the cracked ceramic sky

umbrellaless

i cancel plans 'cause of my veins'
caramel sludge cravings ever
clear embers and
candy climbing tumbles

i crumple through the openings
of every suburban sliding glass door
to sear the acoustics of some stranger's
morning cigarettes

make clouds
and disappear vapor-burned valleys

i cancel plans 'cause the moon
has been full for three months
and the atmosphere's been seizing grandly
in time to my throat's theatrics

in time to the tics of my lighter's
flickers and clicking calls

that won't stop
'cause i don't leave my bed
--written 7/27/19--
Immortality Sep 27
In this world of broken hearts,

I’m just a piece of shattered glass,

Shining bright, but sharp to touch.
Reflection the light, yet sharp with every touch, my darling........................................
Lacey Clark Feb 2016
Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Always daydreaming
Each one a test

I'm a hopeless optimist,
Some may say.
Tossing petals on a silly rose,
wasting the day.

The idea of love,
So open and free
Thought provoking, mysterious
Until it gets to me.

Then I recall,
Why I prefer being alone.
It's hard to find peace,
In someone else's home.

By home, I mean mind
Two becomes one
You both have to share it
To simply enjoy the sun

Idiosyncrasies,
Start to synchronize
The way we view life
Is seen through one set of eyes

We become a machine,
Two bodies and one brain
A lovely entanglement
Loneliness has been slain.

You passed the test,
And you've set me free,
But only through binding,
The concept of 'you and me'

Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Until the real thing comes,
And starts a fire in my chest.
Immortality Sep 26
In the quiet of the night,
words unspoken linger,
echoes of thoughts,
a silent voice,
whispering dreams.
A voice unheard, is a voice lost in noise...................<3
ro g Sep 25
the north star
leads as the king of the night,
a vision of light and hope for all,
shining brightest, fated for greatness,
guiding lost souls through harrowed nights.

however isolation follows, shrouding him in sin.
he carries the darkness and burden of the night,
even in a constellation, will alway be on edge,
as his crown lies in thorns.

despite his glory, he is alone.
Inspired by the "Are you 'Soldier, Poet, King'" trend
Jonathan Moya Sep 23
It wasn’t a river  
just a pool,
more of a hotub,
set off from the sanctuary—
and when I was eased
into  the water
I didn’t see God
in the streams above.

And I didn’t see her
lost in the thunder
of the racetrack
just beyond the church.

She was beyond
my line of sight,
soaking up congratulations
from the congregation.

The pastor gave me
a gentle pat on my back,
shook my hand, three times,
handed me a towel
and welcomed me to the flock.

I was just another sinner saved
and left to go his own way,
certain in the faith
that God will provide.

She said she would meet
me back at her place
after the potluck.

I wrang the towel
of every last drop
and  handed it
back to her.

I walked back to
my old white Civic,
turned it over
and felt the
cool Jesus breeze
of the A/C hit my face.

The voice inside
told me to do the
first thing I heard
on the radio.

I heard Ray Charles
in his blindness
croon to me:

“Hit the road Jack
and don't you come back
No more, no more, no more, no more.

Hit the road Jack
and don't you come back
No more.”
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