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Ronnie Dec 2019
White sheets
on a plain bed
two pillows and a spread.
The simplest image
yet the strongest longing

Frustration in the wells of
the disturbed duvet
hills of loneliness
uncomfortably lingering
in the spring mattress.
Fresh daisies and cotton
mixing with sweat and tears
the scent of a young lover
left alone to roam those roads
all on her own

Missing. Lost in translation
from life to art to life again
fell from the edge of the frame
and onto the carpet
It's been months. She's been collecting dust
little by little and peace by piece
her mind wandering as she lets go at last
her breath the flutter of a newborn butterfly

She took a step back. She broke, again and again
hidden away, shattered and reborn
a kaleidoscope of fragments and memories
bursting out into the world
each side of her a different story
each one beautiful and whole again

She wants to share her story
as they talk about their day
rejoice in the touch of his fingertips
and the softness of her skin
cherish the sincerity of his laugh
as they pull each other close
appreciate the warmth of his breath
and the clarity in his eyes
being the first thing he sees
waking up from the sweetest dream
and knowing that regardless
she is the reason for his smile

But not yet.
Her hands smooth down the bedding.
One less mountain to climb, she thinks
slipping into the plain bed
and under the white sheets.
Only one more sleep, only a few more days
a couple more dreams and symphonies
and one more poetic line
to wish her rampant thoughts goodnight.
a poem I wrote and forgot about, before we came together again
Ronnie May 2019
there are times when
all you can feel is nothing
no rhyme or reason
no rhythm
no melody

not a single note in sight
no colour to be heard
no breeze to savour
although the aftertaste
is bittersweet

so you try them on
feeling after feeling
discarded on the floor
in a pile of ***** laundry
the broken records

and then they spin
out of control
there's no order
and no queue
the tapes won't rewind

the sink is still broken
your words still sting
the jukebox remains silent
Ronnie Mar 2019
She was a stray airplane in the sea of stars
An imposturous glimmer of hope
With no true end or destination
Destined to float among the lights, alone

Or so she thought as she wrote it down
Sealing the edge with the sad remains
Of wasted birthday candles
The final goodbye to the golden days

Prodigy at first, prodigal at last
A soul lost on the way to find a meaning
Searching for the faintest sign of a beginning
With her writ of passage left behind

The death of the author means
A rebirth for all things familiar
The return to a garden of thought
And the flowers in full bloom.
Attempt at an elegy. I was told to stay away from the abstract, but I couldn't help myself.
Ronnie Mar 2019
Over Silesian mountains
Somewhere beyond black seas
There is a forgotten dream
Conjuring visions of peace

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go

Many lives faced the dream
More of them fade to black
But in the eyes of the eagle
There is no turning back

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go

Their hearts are worn on sleeves
Determination so earnest
Merely calm before the storm
Quiet before the Tempest

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go
Inside the city walls
The static is meant to frighten
Those who await the call
In the echoes of the siren

Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
To the land that you adore
Go your own way, go now, go
You are meant to lead, not follow
Walk on, fly by, sail ashore
Go your own way, go now, go

There are many roads to follow
Some of them are painted red
Yet as long as we march on
No one can declare us dead.
Attempt at a Polish-style folk ballad for poetry class.
Ronnie Mar 2019
I am still here
yet I am not who I once was.
I have shed
my human skin
I was reborn
into something true
something pure in essence
if only abused, disregarded
for so long
it almost killed me.

I am free at last.
It was not a prison
for she has not reformed me
but changed me nonetheless.
I was captured
on my own accord
I took the risk
just as I once took the lives of
kings and queens
businessmen and millionaires
Into my hands.
I led them all to ruin.

Human beings are
ungrateful by nature
always wanting something else
something more
something greater

There was once a time
that made that dream a reality
a simpler existence
for others like me
humanity called us
and we called back into the void
we had many names

but we were never guardians
for they relished the taste of power
more than safety or justice
and called upon us for our strength
turning quarrels into battles
and battles into wars

the blame was ours
there was no question
or any answer, either.
Abandoned. No longer
a beginning
or an end
neverending existence
and suffering.
There was no point
staying true to our spirit.
It was crushed
by the one meant to be
most merciful.

We were not meant to exist
without a reason
or greater purpose.
It was beyond us
so we took it upon ourselves
to find one.
Living alongside the humankind
took its toll at last. We rose
from the wreckage
and the ashes
to take the world as our own.
This is why I am who I am
as I remember now
claiming my sense of purpose
taking for myself
what I could not have in my
own right.
Tired of treachery and deceit
I craved the taste of innocence.
A sweetness only a child could possess.
She had all I wanted
a blank future
a clean slate
the world at her feet
and so much more
so in turn
I possessed her.

We came together as one
and when we did
she had no language
no words
to persuade me.
It was something else
something pure entirely
no vile thought
or ill intent
so repulsive to my state of being
yet so wonderful

it was what I wanted
what I craved
and I revelled in the high.
I must have lost myself
between the lines.
She hated every second
but I was blinded
too blind to notice
and there I was
manipulative, controlling
but somehow spiralling
out of control.
I lost everything I knew
and to this day
I do not understand

why do I feel an echo of a flutter
somewhere within me
seeing the two hands together
his thoughtful eyes
or the softness of his lips
those are her wants
her primal needs
but now I crave them too.
My entire existence is trembling
and I hate it so immensely
since it reminds me of
being human

and the one thing
I could never understand
is their will to go on
to carry the most convoluted
conversations with themselves
on the off chance that
they will get their answer
a true call from the void. After all,
do they not deserve it?
are their lives not a gift
designed to fulfil a greater purpose?

Perhaps so
but I do fear the humankind
as the knowledge would surely break them.
If they were certain that there is no meaning
they would become us
shapeless demons
ghosts of their former selves.

We are not bound by
the same mentality. I will
carry on living
reap the souls of those
standing in my way
one by one by one
until there is nothing left

still, I am afraid
to claim another life
and to become one of them
once again
I am afraid
since I now know too well
their struggles, fears
the ticking clock.
Can I ever become one of them
and not become human?
The twin poem to the hours and the second monologue I wrote for my poetry class.
Ronnie Mar 2019
Every waking hour
and every living moment
suspended in reality
is the truest nightmare

for I am now awake
and the dream is not over
the ceiling is a flash of white
the outside world a breathless scream
there is no truth to it
yet it comes back to haunt me
in a house that is not my home

in the days and years
with every sun and moon
I have done everything
faced the dark side
burned every bridge
there is no rhyme or reason
a simple melody
the littlest things to numb the pain
and so it persists still
gone but not forgotten
twisted in its nature
a personal purgatory of sorts
a hand clenched ever so tightly
around my throat
or perhaps it is only
a faceless demon
crawling in my skin
stalling my every move
a devil on my shoulder
and ironically so
it feels right

for I am not the hero of this story
never have been
the life as I know it
has never been kind
in the desire to take
what could never be mine
an ordinary life
an easy way out
so instead I took lives for myself
for money
for prestige
for infamy
and I deserve every nightmare
as there is no way out at all
I cannot take it back
or start all over
it is too late
I’ve come too far now

I say so to myself
a chaotic mantra
echoing within these empty walls
so why am I trembling?
I have no fear
and I have no faith
I have faced death
but I will not go anywhere

how could I believe in
the faintest sight of Heaven
if life put me through Hell?
The merciful one cannot exist
for my only companions
are the demons from the past

and yet
there is fight left in me
I will not bury myself
in the guilt and shame
this bedstead is not
my tombstone
or my legacy
I am still alive
I will step out into the world
and dip my toes in the sunshine
I will not give up
not ever
not now.
The first monologue I wrote for my poetry class.
Ronnie Feb 2019
Welcome back.
It has been a while
since you last came
I'll take that as a
good omen
so to speak

is there something
bothering you, perhaps
something on your mind

you can let it out
this is a safe space
or at the very least
as safe as you feel
your own mind can be

it sounds as if
you are finding it
somewhat difficult
to adapt to this
and it's actually
really painful

and it is
it's getting harder
to reach you now
as in the end
we are one
and the same
but I understand
better than anyone
feeling unwanted
the rejection
and the pain

I feel it too
as I hide
away, from you
from everyone
and everything
until you are gone

but not anymore
you don't control me
or so I will go on
telling myself
until it comes true
it has been too long
since I have let you loose
but I will not hold on
and for the first time
I am setting you free
for holding onto it all
only nurtures you
and drains me so
your time is done
so, please
stand up and leave
don't forget to take
your depressive episodes
and relapses with you
on your way out
make sure
you do not look back
as you are not welcome
here any longer.
This is somewhat of a personal conversation
between myself
and my own shadow.
I cannot choose who I am or the things I am going through
but I can choose to speak.
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