#michaelpowers
I am not a master of the ancient quill,
I have no jars of starlight on my shelf.
I only have this stubborn, awkward will
To carve a little meaning from myself.
I’ve measured twice and cut a dozen times,
My hands are stained with effort and with ink.
I know these aren't the most melodic rhymes,
But I am standing closer than you think.
I offer up this work of wood and bone,
To see if it can stand against the light.
Please find the flaws I haven't seen or known,
Please help me get the heavy corners right.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 2:54 PM UTC
Is it true that the silence is louder tonight,
stretched thin across the miles of wire?
I can hear your breath, a ghost of light,
flickering low like a dying fire.
Do you hold the phone to your other ear
to hide the sound of what I fear?
Is it true that the map has grown so wide,
and the ink has bled on the lines we drew?
There is nowhere left for us to hide
from the distance that is swallowing you.
Your voice is a tether, frayed and old.....
is it still a hand for me to hold?
Is it true that you’re looking at the same pale moon,
but seeing a sky I no longer know?
You say that you’ll be coming home soon,
but your heart is already starting to go.
Is the "I love you" just a habit now,
a broken promise, a hollow vow?
Is it true that the room where you’re standing is cold,
or is it just the way that you’re speaking?
There are stories left in us, yet to be told,
but the foundation is tired and creaking.
Tell me the truth, even if it cuts deep....
is this a secret you’re tired to keep?
Is it true that you’re memorizing my face
from a photograph kept on a digital screen?
Because I can feel every inch of this space,
and the heavy, dark ocean that’s sitting between.
Are we just echoes of who we once were,
lost in a static, a frantic blur?
Is it true that you wake in the middle of dark
and reach for a side of the bed that is bare?
Or have you extinguished the very last spark
and found a new comfort in nobody there?
Is the ghost of my pillow a weight or a grace?
Can you still find my name in that empty space?
Is it true that the words are getting harder to find,
like stones at the bottom of a frozen well?
I am searching the labyrinth of your mind,
trying to break through this quiet spell.
Are we talking just to keep from the end,
or are you still my lover, my life, and my friend?
Is it true that you’re scared of the person I’ve become,
now that I’ve learned how to live on my own?
The beat of my heart is a different drum
than the one that you knew when the seeds were first sown.
Do you love the woman I am today,
or the one that the distance has carried away?
Is it true that there’s someone else in the room,
even if they are only a thought in your head?
Is there a flower beginning to bloom
in the garden we left, that I thought was dead?
Give me the mercy of being unkind....
don’t leave me waiting, and lonesome, and blind.
Is it true that you’re still on the other end,
or am I just talking to the wind and the wire?
I am waiting for a signal for us to transcend,
to pull our two souls from this circling pyre.
Is it true that you’re coming? Is it true we survive?
Are we still, after all of this, truly alive?
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 11:37 AM UTC
The clock on the wall is a stuttering heart,
Ticking away since you tore us apart.
No letter left sitting on the edge of the bed,
Just a cavernous silence where your "goodbye" stayed unsaid.
You walked through the door and you stepped off the map,
Leaving me caught in this permanent trap.
The "why" is a poison that sits in my throat,
A message in bottles that never will float.
I’m carving the air where you once held a flame,
And every slow pulse is,
"Bleeding your name".
I’m tracing the air where your shadow once stood,
Trying to hate you as
much as I should.
But the anger is hollow, the bitterness thin,
Compared to the vacuum you left in my skin.
You didn’t just leave; you erased the whole trail,
Leaving my spirit to stutter and fail.
The memory leaks like a wound that won’t close,
The deeper the silence, the sharper it grows.
I’m calling a ghost that has no one to blame,
While the ink in my veins is,
"Bleeding your name".
I’m staring at pictures that feel like a lie,
Searching for hints in the set of your eye.
Was there a secret you kept in your chest?
Or was I just something you had to divest?
The hallway is haunted by steps you don’t take,
And I am the vessel that’s destined to break.
There’s no closure found in this desert of gray,
Just a thousand more years of you walking away.
I’m shouting at heavens that don’t know my shame,
And the cold ground beneath me is,
"Bleeding your name".
The "sorry" I’m waiting for never will arrive,
It’s the lead in my lungs that keeps me alive.
I’m building a monument out of the "if,"
Standing alone on the edge of the cliff.
If love was a debt, then I’ve paid it in full,
With the weight of the tide and the moon’s heavy pull.
You’re a shadow in motion, a bird on the wing,
While I am the winter that waits for the spring.
I’m lost in a cycle that I cannot tame,
Every breath that I’m taking is,
"Bleeding your name".
Now I’m just a witness to all that we lost,
Counting the wreckage and weighing the cost.
The bed is too wide and the coffee is cold,
And I’m growing weary of stories untold.
The silence you left is a deafening roar,
Like the sound of a key that won't turn in the door.
I'll carry this hollow, I'll carry this ache,
Until there is nothing left inside to break.
The world moves along but I’m staying the same,
A heart in the gutter,
"Bleeding your name".
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 10:25 AM UTC
The calendar square has shifted now,
The date has marched along.
Yesterday was meant for light,
For laughter, or a song.
But the phone stayed dark upon the desk,
The door stayed firmly shut.
No voices drifted through the hall,
No "Happy Birthday" cut
Through the quiet of the morning,
Or the shadows of the night.
No hands to hold, no cake to share,
No candles left to light.
It’s a hollow kind of feeling,
When the world just carries on,
And the people who should know you best,
Are silent, still, and gone.
But though the day was lonely,
And the hurt is sharp and new,
The silence of the ones you love,
Does not define your worth or you.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 3:02 PM UTC
Holy Spirit, I beseech you to come right now. Surround me with your comfort, While I’m down. Lift me out of this place, I am bound. Holy Spirit, I beseech you, to come right now.
Heavenly Father, will You rescue me from the fall? Where I left, left You standing, did not heed your every call. With this plead of repentance, I surrender all. Heavenly Father, will you rescue me, from the fall?
My dear Jesus, I thank you for Your blood You shed. That washed me free from the sin, I inherited. From now own, I will serve you, run, run in your race.
My dear Jesus, I thank You for Your amazing saving grace.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Jan 19
Jan 19, 2026 at 5:25 PM UTC
My Jesus came down from glory, suffered and died for me.
Gave all he had to pardon, all the sins that were bound in me.
Have you come to his cross for salvation? To become a new creation you see,
for if not your still a dead man.Ohh please alow Him so set you free.
No more should you live in regret friend, for the answer you seek is He.
Fall before him now and He will wash you, removing your sin for all eternity.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 3:57 AM UTC
Through the halls of HelloPoetry, the cursor starts to blink,
A soul named Blue Sapphire dips a heavy pen in ink.
The screen is glowing softly, a blue and lonely spark,
As they spill the fractured pieces of a heart left in the dark.
It’s shattered like a gemstone, a million jagged shards,
Dealing out the sorrow from a deck of heavy cards.
The rhythm of the stanzas is the only way to breathe,
To pull the tangled heartache from the spirit underneath.
"It needs a mend," the verses cry, in metaphors of rain,
Searching for a needle that can stitch away the pain.
Each line is like a bandage, each rhyme a steady hand,
Building up a fortress where a broken soul can stand.
From the depths of the "Newest" feed, the words begin to rise,
Reflecting all the stormy clouds within those sapphire eyes.
But with every "Post" and "Publish," the cracks begin to seal,
As the poetry reminds them: to hurt is how we heal.
So keep the stanzas flowing, let the sapphire spirit shine,
For the mending isn't instant...
It happens line by line.
Michael Powers
""STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 2:29 AM UTC
The static hum has finally died away,
That hollow echo of a thousand gray-scale days.
I spent a lifetime locked inside a stare,
Breathing in the ghost of cold, recycled air.
I built these walls of salt and jagged stone,
To prove that I could feel just fine alone.
But there’s a shivering deep inside the chest,
A rhythmic beating waking from its rest.
It’s the friction of the heart against the cage,
The turning of a stained and heavy page.
The anesthesia’s wearing thin and bright,
And everything I buried is screaming for the light.
I felt the gravity pull me to the floor,
A sudden cracking of the cellar door.
No longer drifting like a wisp of smoke,
I felt the moment that the silence broke.
It’s a violent kind of mercy, this return of skin and bone,
To feel the sting of every scar I’ve ever called my own.
The world is loud, and sharp, and colored red,
A symphony of things I should have said.
I’ll take the salt, the sorrow, and the heat,
To feel the pavement burn beneath my feet.
No more the ghost, no more the hollow shell.....
I’m ringing like a strike against a bell.
The ice is gone. The flood is at the door.
I am human. I am hurting.
I Am Ñumb Ño More.....!
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 9:23 AM UTC
Why would I go back to the gutter and the grey,
To the Misdirection that led my spirit astray?
Why would I feed the wolves that live in the dark,
Or blow out the candle to hide from the spark?
Why would I crawl when I’ve learned how to stand,
With a heart made of iron and a fire in my hand?
I’ve tasted the salt and I’ve swallowed the dust,
Why would I offer the shadows my trust?
Why would I build up a kingdom of light,
To be a beacon for those lost in the night?
Why would I reach through the static and screams,
To sew up the edges of someone else’s dreams?
Why would I offer the truth and the bone,
To make sure a stranger isn't walking alone?
Because I’ve been the Addict, I’ve been the slave,
And I know that a kindness is what truly can save.
Why would you ever think I’d do anything else,
Than burn down the heavens and conquer my hells,
Just to stay by your side when the world falls apart,
And shield the soft rhythm that beats in your heart?
Through the "Fire of Styxx" and the roar of the gale,
My promise is anchored; it’s not meant to fail.
After all that I’ve broken and all I’ve been through,
Why would I do anything... other than love you
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 10:18 AM UTC