#blight
The evil in my mind, ya see
Eviscerates the light in me
It clashes with the fight in me
I'm trying to break free
The evil in my soul, ya see
Devours all the life in me
It harbors all the strife in me
It must be a disease
The evil in my heart, ya see
Inhabits every thought in me
It loves what it has wrought in me
And now its filled with glee
The evil I will purge, ya see
discovering the might in me
Dispelling all the blight in me
For this I have the key
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 8:49 PM UTC
♫
_”Stood I where you, now starry and new,
Brylcreemed and cherished, view those who have perished;
The collegiate adorned, on Founder’s Day mourned,
Old souls with young dreams, bright plans and mad schemes;
Three from the left, that’s me with the clef,
A musician’s award, bestowed by the Board;
Prized above all, before the Great War,
Took hearing and sight, an aesthete’s blight;
For a whisper apart, is the end from the start,
What remains of the day, nowt but shadows that play;
On this side of the glass, through which you will pass,
At the lone piper’s call, when dusk it doth fall.”_
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 3:42 AM UTC
the walk through the dark forest,
with these trembling legs full of fear.
the fear of hissing coming from a height,
And the rumors of a living giant bear.
the crying trees suffering from blight.
hands start shaking, whenever I try to write.
the experience was honest and real,
that roar if lion I still can hear.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 3:42 AM UTC
Again we had a fight
In his view like always,
he was right.
But what does actually matters,
to be right or to feel right?
With all this dilemma in my mind
I uttered...
No, I don't wanna be one with blight
Now this is the height
with these last words, I left that place
In search of a new light to be more bright.
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 1:02 AM UTC
My ink rarely rhymes.
And I write words
even myself
can’t understand.
Daily ink spills
and splatters
on my tangled sheets,
sometimes I’m ashamed of.
The empty, naked
mosaic of love letters,
you thought.
My canvas of colorful illusion,
dim and chaotic,
you said.
The words I write to you,
for you.
Words that always land
on your silent, unappreciative lips,
unseen by your darkly unsympathetic eyes.
A poem you wouldn’t want to read,
A poem you wouldn’t want to hear.
A garden you wouldn’t want to tend.
And now that the teardrops
have ceased,
the birds in the cages
have been freed,
the plants unwatered and flowers are left wilted,
the winds have begun to blur
the memories,
the ink has run dry,
and no more thoughts of you remain.
I have nothing more to say.
I have nothing more to wish.
There is none to plead.
My ink and my love for you
have now rested in peace.
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 1:42 AM UTC
Death rides at midnight
Filling the land with blight
He casts a frightful image
As he rides through the village
His frightful scythe gleams
Wet with the blood of unrealized dreams
The cold, hard metal
Is uncaring enough to unsettle
Beneath his dark hood
Lies nothing good
Only the husk of a man
Who signals the end of a lifespan
His skeletal horse
He rides along his dutiful course
Whinnying as he stops
To **** the farmer's crops
Solemn is his duty
To take away life's beauty
Unbearable to a living man
The underworld's ghastly helmsman
The pistol is his herald
In his black cloak appareled
Weapons of war
Bring him to the door
His job is made no easier
Nor and breezier
By mankinds love of violence
Or vile fraudulence
All the thousands of young souls
Lives lost without completing their goals
Brought to a swift end
By Death only to attend
Death rides at midnight
Filling the land with blight
He casts a frightful image
As he rides through the village
Searching for souls to pillage
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 2:01 PM UTC
I seem to lean
into my shadows, failures and faults.
That slope too natural
and my downward leaning too easy.
What darkness have I learned?
What sullen seed has
merged into the deeper passages
to transform
into thorns?
Is it my repeated stumblings
or the sin of another
inflicted early
but now forgotten?
Maybe it’s so terrible
my mind has stashed it way way down
now a fungus still alive in the dark?
I feel too at home
dwelling in that cave
and I am in need,
I am sorely in need
of light,
enough lasting exposure
to **** the blight
scorch the itch
and set me leaning
into an upward pitch
to thwart the dark
proclivities.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
Wars rage in my skull
I’m enraged and unfed
Constantly fleeing my debts of death and unsaid
I can’t make bets that they’re right, because they’re always right
They’re all definitely right
They’re shaken with fright
From the blight of my actions
All they ever wanted, Was to offer me gold,
Which percolated from deep within the cracks of their palms that were held wide open
They dressed in all white, while I dressed all black.
My insides are black and my eyes are magenta
You would never believe that my head has it’s own detailed corrigenda
And believe it or not, this whole time, my agenda,
Was only ever to retrieve an achievement of bliss.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:48 AM UTC
i should be listening to music,
while writing love poems.
but i’m busy,
and all i can manage is a short little note,
about something else.
my mind feels like clean paper today,
fresh and beautiful.
it’s been filled with the brightest colors
-someone telling me i’m beautiful,
loved.
someone loving my words,
someone whispering promises of heaven in a song.
it’s been filled with bright-eyed questions,
running,
but always feeling oh so very right.
i feel oh so very right.
i ignore this small twinge in my gut,
my life is going so well,
that i do not doubt.
but i ignore that small twinge in gut,
when someone said i could be cured.
their face appears everywhere,
and their face is my mother’s inspiration.
does she think i can be cured?
i am the perfect daughter.
i study, i volunteer.
i am happy, i am kind.
i am in clubs. i am good with my friends,
reasonable and responsible.
but there’s a blight she doesn’t know -a blight that is not a disease.
but when your inspiration tells you so, would you dismiss it as an interesting view?
would you believe it if you knew my blight? or would you forget?
i, i can only describe my blight as bright.
i have been told i light, like every color in the world.
for once, i feel right.
i may not fit in, but i know the lines on which i walk.
or i know how to walk.
because you told me, to hear someone who said i was bright.
because you have always supported what i am.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
#
This ripe darkness
this mourning dream
a wrenching weakness
fit for the guillotine
An arrangement made
sheer comfort prepared
the end of fate
and, oh, how I dared
This dry paper
this cold pit
an agonising vapor
that smells of blood and spit
'Tis my mind
my wicked flesh
a soul pined
peeled off and fresh
Dressed soft tongued
I raised Cain
being shunned
silenced I remain
This dawning fright
this nightly echo
here comes the blight
light, don't let go
#
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans in the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while cowards seek their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to share the light of happiness
content my deed is done
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
In the cusp of closing night, I look into your weary eyes;
once outshining city lights. I see no way to realize
the healing of this blight - I venture to make a phoenix cry.
Remedy of such mythos might, might just prove unjust lies.
Chance restoring your ere vacant sight - fighting soul’s primal guide.
As any chance to restore my bride, binds our fractured lives.
...No words to describe affliction already decided.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
trolls have a lot of idle time
on their aggravating hands
and it has been noticed that
they move in trolling bands
were these individuals to
find a more useful pastime
others wouldn't be sensing
their provocative lime
oh yes the trolls are well
and truly on the loose
causing much mayhem like
an uninhibited moose
they patrol both by day
and by night
dispensing their plaguing
sort of blight
if you've ever felt a troll
breathing down your neck
it'll make you cry out get
the abhor off my deck
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
He swims upon the lake and swell.
Inside the waters where she fell
on that moonlit winter morn.
All alone and now all gone.
Within that wet, that lake of ice,
he spots her shade. Not once but twice.
She's smiling still, all hope and bells
just like she looked before she fell.
Oh Cre'Atus, please cut her loose,
his words fall dead like neck and noose.
And so he swims, his body cold,
in hope his heart gives in and folds.
This longing hits, and loneliness
becomes his friend, as bitterness
invades his soul, has come to linger
in this man once known as Wind Singer.
Of wind was he, and in his rhymes
there would be joy and better times.
His lips would purse, his whistles call
and all the birds from sky would fall
into his home, a barren field.
A homely place, with little yield,
but tenderness, this man would give
to all the beasts and birds that live.
Inside the woods, he passed with light
around his feet, and in the bright
green heart of leaves and trees he chimed
with each pure whistle. Each soft rhyme.
He met her there, a girl of peace
so great her smile should never cease
and from that moment he knew joy.
An angels face. Heavens envoy.
He took her in, and showed the world
how God had surely carved this girl
from summer winds, and autumn song.
She stayed with him, where she belonged.
They walked the fields, the barren soil,
but with her laugh and through their toil,
the lands became a place of worth.
A place renowned throughout the Earth.
The love he knew. The heart they shared.
And every time he showed he cared
her love would swell. So would her life.
And so, he took her as his wife.
Time passed by quickly...
The nights grew long. The trees grew old.
The starlight those days seemed so cold.
The fields were bare. The harvest cleaned.
Their home was peaceful and serene.
But shadows crept within the trees,
so soft, so harsh, like a disease
it swept upon the woods and beasts
until all life had surely ceased.
There man and wife, unknowing still,
knew not their lands had fallen ill
with taint and shadow, dark refined.
They sat in bliss while light declined
around their hearth. Around their love,
until the shade, wrapped like a glove
their home and with it in it's might
it weaved a spell, their hearts couldn't fight.
In fear she fled, and in her stead,
her husband stayed behind and bled
as he took arms and fought this fiend
with strength in men, so rarely seen.
At last he overcame his foe.
Threw down this dark, had overthrown,
but not victory or respite
had he, for where now was his wife?
He fled into the trees and brush,
past deadened trees which once were lush.
Past beastly corpse, and silenced bird.
He called her name until he heard
a song, a sound. The heart of her.
He ran toward the sound in fear,
that he should somehow lose his light.
Should suffer loss because of blight.
And there he saw his beauty fair.
Against the sky he saw her there,
upon a cliff top, doomed to fall.
She answered not. Heeded no call.
In her despair her senses fled.
In her fear, panic in her head,
She saw her husband dead on the floor.
No more love. No more! No more!
And so as all the tales have told,
this lady fair. This beauty old,
jumped to the sky and met her fate.
The husband came, but was too late.
He screamed his pain to the skies.
'What was it for, Cre'Atus, why?!'
But silence met his pained demand,
and so he jumped, took life in hand,
but fate was not with him that day.
This life was not for him to slay
and he lived, he still breathed, still fought
against the death his loss had bought
for what is life without her near.
Why exist without her here?
Why go on within his fields,
alone, no song to grow the yield?
And so he swims within the swell.
Inside the waters where she fell.
His love is lost, straight to his core.
The Wind Singer will sing no more.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Loving someone despite knowing
it is never going to last
is the worst human
tragedy there
is.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 10:37 AM UTC
I see children play in urban decay
Boarded up homes with dirt and grime
Certainly not pleasing to the eye
Gray urban sprawl glares at me
Even the trees depress me
A closed door to a once-upon-a-time
That faded away into grime
Afternoon turns into evening
The foreboding wind whistles through
Forcing the trees to blow askew
On a past we once knew
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
I wrestled with my demons last night
It all was such a terrible sight
It felt like I had won the right
To just gave in and called off the fight
In this life I'm such an awful blight
And next time I might let them win
But for now I'll stay within this skin
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
I had me a botox in the middle of the night
Don't offer me a bed as I can't unlock the light
I am so cold my breath is over the faint might
Don't run back as I can't bear your grey sight
1,2,3,4,5..... I'll climb up this mountain in tights
5,6,7,8,9... I'll shout on and on as my vocals fight
Hide that smile is not bright, germinating blight
On the count of 10, I'll fist your toe, it's my right
This pen is the only weapon I got in my isolation
The words from inside escapes to another location
Introverted but logically attuned in many a motion
I can't face you directly to answer your urgent notion
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
You may see a vacant lot
Where a building has burned down
But I see a garden spot
With flowers growing all around.
And maybe a bench to sit
A take a while to appreciate
What can be done by people
With loving energy to dedicate.
You may see an empty field
Overrun by neglect and weeds.
But, I see a garden here,
And care is really all it needs.
Maybe some cutting back
And of course, a lot of water.
But time and compassion
Is what will ultimately matter.
Realtors may calculate
The money to make from this land
But, I see a garden
That needs some helping hands.
Maybe some cows can graze
Or a pretty little babbling brook.
A place of nature’s bounty
Like out of a wonderful storybook.
Do we need one more store,
Or one more fast food restaurant?
Maybe some serenity is
What people of the world really want.
Some may see a patch of dirt
And not much more than fallow earth.
As for me, I see a garden.
A bit of paradise right here on earth.
(This was written for and about Bette Midler.)
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
I smoked too much last night
I figured that's why my lungs ache in deep breaths
I'm smoking right now
Still slightly more than the norm
I can't seem to resist
The cravings persist
The moment is blight
So the act is alright
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
---
streets twinkle
with the cars
the sky is granite
asphalt stars
trees die with their
stunted height
buildings grow
with urban blight
pine box slabs
of window's pain
glassy panels
city's stain
gritty mouths
feed dogs that bark
moist streets where
the world is parked
gravel streetlights
lend the night
darkened sidewalks
blackest light
soulsurvivor
rewrite (c) 5/12/2015
written 2014
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
Why do humans fight?
Strike with all our might,
Against the blasted blight,
Who gave you a little fright?
But what about the blight?
What do they see?
Do they see a monster,
As ugly as could be?
They see a panicked destroyer,
As crazed and mindless as we are.
Because the only great threat in this world,
Is us, by quite far.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
Child begs at night.
Privileged, some venture to ask:
"Where are your parents?"
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC