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Turoa Nov 2018
There's a storm building outside,
But honey oh those fires within,
The ones, the ones that tear the walls down,
Hiding just beneath the skin.
(C#m  G#m  D#  G#m)
As the sky fills with thunder,
Shaking my window pane
The walls shake and shudder,
As you whisper to me, again.
Oh, that whispered word, again.
Lord don't waste your mercy,
Because you know I plan to sin.
This burning soul seeks no forgiveness,
I fight the war I'll never win.
Honey you've played with fire,
Treacherous warmth can always burn.
But like the moth drawn by desire,
Try to fight, but never learn. -----
As skies fill with thunder,
Rain falls on my window pane.
Wrapped in dark I feel you shudder,
As this house goes up in flames.
Lord don't waste you mercy,
You know I plan to sin
Spare your forgiveness
This war I'll never win. -----
The sky must need the water
Like the sun
Needs the dark
I hang your halo by my bedside
And in,
Me lights the spark.
Let it rain
Let it rain down Lord
Scream your pleasure
Tears of pain
Let it rain
Let it rain down Lord
As this house
Goes up in flames
Let it rain
Let it rain down Lord
As her feathered wings grow dim
Let it rain
Let it rain down Lord
Let it rain
Let it rain
Another angel falls now
With the whispered word again.
Let it...
(Outro)
This song idea came through a couple simple blues chords, I have a harsh voice, I don't mask or hide what I think and feel, and I don't pretend to be saint. This song reflects that sentiment.
Turoa Oct 2020
Like the horse
Has his rider,
The moon
Has it’s sky,
So a man
Has his loneliness,
Mistaken as pride.
Turoa Oct 2020
I came to a door
To visit once again
To almost feel warmth
Happiness, therein.

But I’ll return again,
And again turn
To spur saddle and thorn
That none come to fear me
None can my name mourn

Selfishness or not
I turn to darkness once more
Preserving that hope ever present
Held just out of reach,
The shadow of a whisper
An unknown presence
On the far side of a door.
Turoa Oct 2021
One does not scale then claim
the ancient mountain

Nor by pretension tame the sea

Sate the deep fire’s searing fountain

Noble, though futile attempts be.



Blood, sweat stained, predatory

Alone infernum, lux ignis I stand.

I fight with no hope for victory

Mine crimson staccato metronome,
life’s sweet stain on desert sand.



Dispassionate, Fire’s breadth consuming all

Whilst ever hollowing from within;

Cracked lips cachinnate the brazen gall,

Endeavoring as healers’ medicine.



Adrift till the last ember chokes,
emptied all of malice and slaughter,

Peace be that last repose, my nox aquis,
to be embraced by night upon the water.
Turoa Feb 2019
Night Circus

A black tent stands in front of you
red flags, chilling wind
welcome to my night circus
you found my red curtain door
I’ve been waiting for you
so step right in

Put this mask on, bizarre but
soon it’ll be clear
there are no faces,
no faces,
no faces down here,
No faces no light,
your mind misty, unclear,
and you don’t know it yet
but you need to be here

I hear whispers in your head
they are sounding
your heart’s beat in your ears
it’s pounding
warped mirrors, evil seen
is your reflection shattering
the person you knew
is gone, curtains drawn
my wicked dream
it’s magnetic, riveting,
astounding

Cold blood will course through your veins
look away
but all around you, look, see
you’ll reel from their stains
you say you’ll leave
but where
how did you lose the way
you came here, you entered
there’s a price you’ll pay
there are no refunds
no second chances
..and oh the games
we will play

You knew it hurt, but went back
every time
through a once white skin door
until your own skin matched mine
the colors of pain,
my black, red decor
until now
you’ve always asked to endure,
to taste just one more
you did this to yourself
bought the ticket
now settle your score

Bring the reflection of yourself
behind your mask in the crowd
my curtain’s pulled back for you
step through
not a sound

No one here will see you
cry as before
no one here will silence you
or muzzle your roar
as you end the life
of the person you knew
of the self that was you
who you were before

So welcome to the show
you arrived just on time
The Rules
don’t lie, don’t touch,
and don’t waste my time
You came to my circus
my tent,
you entered my mind
now you’ll hear and you’ll suffer
the ringleader’s rhyme

You feel strange down here,
yes, at first
thinking you’re alone
Ha ha guess again
check the stands
every second
look and see how they’ve grown
faces you can’t see
but there’s an army within
wondering
why did they come
you see, there’s few ways out
endless ways in
held by nothing but curtain
in this place created by pen

I hold a lighter
to this cigarette and
I can show you the way
you've found my hell, child
so come take my hand
fangs glistening, lets watch,
watch your own show begin

Join the legion here,
seeking belonging, refuge
lost and alone, savages
behind masks
here we all are people
monsters
creatures like you
but this is your trail
you’ll see it through to completion
don’t fall to the side
perhaps you can grant to me,
grant an end to my own story
my own obsoletion

I live this circus
every act, done them all
the show of the ******
my kingdom written
in red, every seat
in black, every wall
this is my world  
my guest
you're welcome to know
a little about me
take in the sights
with my ember in darkness
the hope I have
as you go

I was born here
somehow caught and strung up,
the first exhibit
the freak show,
a forcibly twisted, stiff contortionist,
a broken puppet's
head hung low,
clowns hammer to the head
that drum-roll cadence you hear
thumping, ringing,
a bearded lady singing
my art's crescendo,
each act slowly, chipping away
each step bringing us, closer, today
I’m the no-net trapeze artist
who wildly swings
while mad jugglers toss
swords across delicate strings,
the magician who saws
his woman in half,
the strong man crushed
beneath the weight on his back,
the tamer pray to his lions
bones not whips crack,
the disfigured clown who hopelessly fails
every attempt to make you laugh,
I'm the fire-breather choking
hearing cheers for his burn,
the acrobats diving into a cement empty pool
each gracefully standing waiting their turn
I was the tigers
who brought
the elephant down
and the helpless escape artist
chained, humiliated,
destined to drown
And now here I stand
your host
Ringleader
your showman
maitre d'
you're welcome to join
mais j'espere, tu ne reviens jamais
jusqu'au port de mon coeur
Le Cirque de la Nuit

-A bow without applause-

You’ve hosted your show
feel free to do more
but this tent will be bigger
each time you perform
I belong, some are trapped here
but you, you are not
the choice is still yours
so when you decide
you are free
to the world
I’ll release you
but let you be warned
wherever you go
the key you carry within
your night circus
your shadow behind you
is waiting
hungry
I plead
..don’t fall back in
Turoa Aug 2019
We all die alone,
He said in passing
One and all
We all die alone
A simple fact
Death claims us all

Yes we all die
We also fail,
Stumble and fall
But if one is remembered,
Carried in heart
No matter how small
Who to say
Any of us
Ever
Really die at all
Turoa Apr 2019
It's a question all men ask,
For them what would I do?
Would we rise to the task
Se lever, to raise
Or fall, au dessous..
That person could be our little one
Wife, family, or friend
Should we succeed
Or fail
Let us fight
To the end.
Turoa Aug 2019
You found me in darkness
You held me
Despite cutting edges
You stilled me
A lover of dark
Though a beacon of light
You're a paradox, a saint
An angel
Wings ebony bright

What could I give you?
A lone wolf in the night
I live in shadows and blood
While a raven's
Gentle wings
Eclipse heavens height
Your own would disown you
If only truth they could see
What could I give
If I offered
What would there be
All I offer is pain
My Fire
And sweet misery

It is forbidden
So I will guard you
Silently
From my station below
Love you as dark to the moon
Through from a safe distance might
For our fire would be insatiable
Like the sun
Rivaling stars
Burning the night

I will wait, I will yearn
Continue and fight
For a day
The forbidden
May step into light

Realist I am
Some dreams I may never see
But if the leviathan rises
To end dreamers in all
Waiting in depths below
There I will be
To shield you
Catch you when you fall
The only happy ending
From my vantage can see
Burnt in fur and tattered wing
Two broken souls
I will love you in darkness
The forbidden set free
Turoa Sep 2022
Since antiquity time
Men have borne symbols
The lion, eagle,
Dragon and stag
To encourage and give
Sacrifice meaning
While young ones
Our loved ones
Lie peacefully dreaming
For whom deaths shadow
Silent hunger ardently waits.

By torchlight, watchful
I shall ever be
Till at last fells true
Times arrow off fate
I will bear my arms
Honor held proudly
Into Hell’s maw
Its fang laden gate.

For them I give
My own life gratefully
Smiles again
I may never see
Till my banner and borne
Suffuse to one seamlessly.
For them I will stand
Against the gale
Forward to face
Their levee
The storm
I will abate.
Turoa Nov 2019
Happiness I've found
Crossing seas mountains and skies
For the simplicity of feeling
A future in your eyes
Together we'd suffer ecstacy
Pain, passion, exquisite tears
Longing, but no longer alone
Between a kiss spanning years
Turoa Oct 2020
I’m still here

Still driving
Still pushing
Still fighting

And that’s the worst part
Sometimes

Yet I’m still here
And here I’ll stay
As long as it takes..

Until that that final note is played
A final sunrise that heralds
My night watches end
One more beautiful day

There’s still hope
Turoa Feb 2019
You know that feeling, when you can't move your arms?
Jab
Your body is reaching it's limit
Jab Cross
The whole world disappears accept for what's right in front of you
Slip Hook
You feel blood coursing through every vein
Outer block Clinch
A sense of numbing euphoria washes through in sharp breaths
Knee Knee
Your limbs throb and ache but obey a strict clear mind
Collar tie Head check
You move in your own rhythm a match won before started
Knee
Your hands tremble imperceptibly from fatigue and anticipation
Uppercut Feint jab Cross
Sweat stings your eyes and open cuts on your lips, but you spit and keep your eyes open
Guard Close distance
Listening for the palpable crack of bone against bone
Rising knee
And in that moment
Downward cross
Nothing else exists
..the fight goes on..
Turoa Oct 2019
He came to me for solace
Relief
Shelter from pain
He thought he'd found brotherhood
Companionship
A means to shed
One's own shame

But instead he found me
Bitter honesty, truthful but cold
Like raw ore to the smith
In my care
He will suffer
Before he is gold

I stole something from you today
Something you'll very soon know
The last temptation of relief
That iron grip on control
The great escape
Your last thread of hope

You'll think I've betrayed you
Wrong or right I don't know
But in its place I've left something
One more day
To live
One more day
To grow

Perhaps I will fail you,
I honestly don't know
We are not that different, you and I
To you perhaps we are
To me, I don't think so

But you will understand
What I said when we met,
What I think and believe,
My reasons, my friend
Unravel, unweave

Pieces of the picture
You'll see in due time
When we met
You said, my hands are *****,
And now see why I said,
So are mine.
I had an experience today, a friend of mine, a vet whose lost a lot recently.. I know the average a few years ago was 22 veteran suicides per year and I can only assume that's grown. Please be cognizant of others and the battles each individual faces, look out for your brother's in arms and don't be afraid to do the right thing if it gets the help they need.
A misplaced firing pin and a wellplaced phone call might be all it takes.
Turoa May 2019
I once read
That a man looks at a bird, its
Feathers, its wings, under a microscope
Down to the tiniest detail,      giving
Names, claiming that      because
Of our understanding we,                        
Are somehow,      
Superior, but they,     are nations
Unto themselves,        living by
Sights we
Cannot,        
See and,  
Senses,    
We couldn't
Hope to,    
Comprehend.
In all our
Superiority
We still don't
Know, how it feels to fly.
Turoa Feb 2019
There’s something to be said about words.  
They scribble and etch their way across every aspect of our daily lives.

They are considered the means of our enlightened state,
our prison,
the limits we’ve set for ourselves.
We etch them on our buildings walls, into our bodies and souls.  Perhaps to feel what can't be expressed in
Words.

We quite literally, set the terms for our lives and our selves.
An endless world of sensations,
clipped,
limited,
by the words we use to define them.
Turoa Feb 2019
Why do I write poetry,
It's a question I ask myself.
I'm a bit out dated,
A worn spine on the shelf.
I'm not writing for anyone,
Nor a book just anyone should read.
But why write?
I wonder
What is it to me?
I could write dreams,
Dabble
Try fantasy,
Or horror stories,
Survival, adventure,
Are natural to me.

But a person can't be defined by one piece, or another.
Perhaps that's what I enjoy
In verses
These verses in ink..
The languages and their structures
Are shattered,
Every rule by the wayside
And something new
Steps forward.
Something real,
Unique as a new day,
Something
Only you
Could ever  
Say.

To hell with the rules
Turoa Sep 2022
I’m fine
It’s nothing
A cocked brow
A notion
Disinterested sigh
Not important
Bygone valor
Gallantry shrugged
In commonplace lie
Bravado amongst poets
Passion, satire, silent glyphs
Etched to the bone
By penman, scribe
Acting, wishing,
Holding place,
Word, sentence,
Stanza, rhyme
Tears written
Down a hardened face
Literature’s torture
Pain sublime.

He thirsted after knowledge once
Pleasures, power, did pursue
Labored for approvals eye
Quest for love
One’s solemn vow
Words his only retinue

Musical ballads
Crescendo al coda
Bittersweet Grimm’s
Tale apologue send
Turning season’s leaves
Burn fiery gold
Autumn’s soft embrace
Preceding winter
Chilling touch
Of daylight’s end
Words meanings bitten,
Hoarded, gripped in brazen gall
As if to stave off hunger
Hold back the ships
The red dogwood rain
Black cherry fall
Winter’s frost
Its ushered kiss
Loneliness your coffin
Fears entombing wall

My sonata written, cast
Of ebony hue
Guise of pride or humility
Fear whispers
A life’s merits
Achievements
Matter not
Soul hidden
Unread, unsung
Silence
Pride enthroned
Your own tearstained
Rorschach
Lone butterfly blot.
Turoa Aug 2019
From a barstool
One can watch
Life rushing by
I can't begin
To comprehend sometimes
The racing masses
Not knowing where
What for
Or why

At moments like this
I pause
From a wooden stool
Look for purpose
Patterns
For cause
But some questions
Aren't answered
Some lands
We cannot explore
Some toasts untasted
Better suit the floor

But I'll sit
And I'll watch
Life run its course
And while I search
For meaning
From my stool by the door
Until I find something
...
Bartender,
I think I'll have one more
Turoa Sep 2019
I Ponder the words
     Oher writers have wrote,
To speak volumes in syllables
Understand feelings in notes

I wonder can I compare
To the madness of Poe
Share the wonder of Silverstein,
Shelley's monstrous despair,
Or the screams of Van Gogh?

Can I write myself Treetops  
Frost's trails traveled by
Could I create my own Iliad
Command with Tennyson  
Or on Stoker's bat wings rise,

I am no one too many
Someone too few,
Though my voice is unheard
       Painful my artform,
Enduring shall try
Paint pattern and scribe
My spark in the darkness
The dream I'll pursue.
Turoa May 2019
It took a lifetime
To get there
It'll take a lifetime
To get out
Step by step
It'll be worth it
Turoa Dec 2018
What makes a man superior to the land the birds or his fellow kin?
We are self proclaimed gods walking the earth yet our actions say
We might as well be,  
Little more than an upright
Walking
Two-legged

disease on display.
Turoa Sep 2019
With people
The only question that matters
What else can there be
Besides our feeble perceptions
Asking us
What I am to you,
And
What are you to me?
Turoa Apr 2019
There's something beautiful to be said
When words are written but never read
I had the pleasure of late last night to meet
A lone piano on the street
Out of tune missing hammers and strings
Dreaming of music that nobody sings
Once upon a time
I'm sure his keys were bright
Lifting the spirits of all
As souls passed in the night
I'm sure many a pianist
Would stop on their way
Virtuoso's and children
Their songs he would play
But now the wood is chipped
The paint all but gone
I'll stop and listen to your silence
Give voice to your bittersweet
Melancholy song
Turoa Dec 2018
What is a fortified castle secure, beautiful.
What is a prison.
What is liberating, freedom at it's finest.
What is torture.
What is a shield, impenetrable to all who would do you harm.
What is thin as paper.
What is solid as stone, iron in resolve.
What is delicate as porcelain.
What is safe.
What is a levee, preserving the safety of others.
What is graceful, full of hope.
What is cruel, full of deceit.
What is kind, generous breathing life into to all.
What is parasitic.
What is the man one strives to become.
What is a facade.
What is angelic.
What is ******.
What is the dream of a dreamer.
What is a lie.
What is real.
What is false.
What is a question,
Who is my reflection.
 Which of these is my mask?
Turoa Feb 2019
Step out of the light
And wait, adjust
It’s harsh at the start

But you'll never see
The innumerable stars
Until you've completely surrenderd
Your eyes to the dark
S235 123, is a location.  It's my place I go when I need peace.  If you step out and are willing to stop to sit a while, look up, the way the stars unfurl themselves is beautiful.
Turoa Feb 2019
One step forward
Followed by another
Losing sight of an end
Given time
The destination
Doesn't matter

Never have two words
Been simpler
Or meant more
Than those from someone who cares
Who's always been there
Standing, waiting
Holding a door.

..Stop running
Turoa Nov 2018
This is just a poem
A chance to write
The feelings
Neither wrong nor right
Like the thirst for freedom
Raptor's need,
To hunt in flight
I just want to express
Myself.  My thoughts.
..usually the ones that keep me awake at 2 in the morning
Turoa Dec 2023
I decided to challenge the world,
Trial by combat evil face,
But no titan or monster
Stood before me,
In the wicked villain's place,
Just the aging scars
Of ignorance, of fear,
On an innocent child's face.
Turoa Sep 2022
I knew a kind old preacher once
The least of likely places met
He never fiery sermon preached
But with me still
A seed he left

I find myself some years down the path
Lost, naught with house nor home
But not for loss of company
My bitter and sweet compatriots
Beside me, a trio, we three roam

El Sombra is a handsome gent
My closest friend, strays but never far
Darker than me in every way
A wicked humor, exquisite memory
One purest soul as black as tar

He rarely speaks but when he does
Only whispers in my ear
Things t’would make the old crone blush
The noble gallant, shudder fear

But to balance out my ***** and specter
I hold the lady on my left
Singing the ever youthful, maiden’s song
Tales of love, of joy, of sorrows past
That sweetest kiss of promise hides,
Behind Decanter’s ornate breast

How did you do it preacher,
Conquer such demons, leave them past?
Was it your wife,
Her love that kept you true,
Some friend or God that held you fast?

I’ve tasted lips of lovers sweet
All fade, but not my siren’s song
Friends endeavored to walk beside
Till shadows reach, I look about
Alas, and all by days end, gone

He casts his humors, horrors, incessant shade
She warms my laugh, soothes pain and fear
Together they ride,
My demons perched on either shoulder
Pulling a sinister grin from ear to ear

Life, stopped inside a dusty bottle
My left hand holds it like a prayer
The hapless maw of shadow waiting
Each dawn to dusk, till nightfall’s edge
Edacious poised to engulf me there

Alone I take the damning course
Scripture’s own pale horse I ride
Cruel the dry winds biting force
Till even they, my dearest friends
Shall at long last must cast me aside

Here thought fades alongside memory
Blinding malice shards desert sand
I swiftly ride into jaws of my own making
Through batwing doors, wrought iron gate
Where waits your empty shiner’s stand.
Turoa Feb 2019
There is nothing more simple

Or profound

Then being a father

In saddles, motors, and rope

To live and die peacefully

The end all men hope
Turoa Nov 2018
Walking silence along the trail I know
I am a poet through which observation
Others find me, come beseeching
Words to carry, utter, flow,
Then sent falling as tears
Far from my reaching
It comes to eye and breath to shudder
Darkest truths these things I know
Shall one run to light
Or take to shadow
To what end leads this trail
The words I sow
This existence is a paradox
A starlit path beneath a silent storm
Till the crack of lightning
And thunder's roar
I may know only night
But ever search for more
Is there an end to my trail
I do hope
Prays the longing of my soul
Turoa Nov 2018
I hear a whistle blaring
It's a sound like no other
Three tones perfectly out of sync
Terrifying yet familiar
The roar of fire within the belly of some prehistoric metal beast
As the steam screams through rusted pipes
And somewhere between the two
Is the bellow of an unseen engineer
A madman slave to his furnace
Ripping away at the chord
The sound wakes me from my slumber
All thoughts are gone and for one blissful moment
All that exists is that three toned symphony
I recall a younger boy as trees and shadows flick by the glass
It's unusually cold on board tonight
The little boy shivers as the cold creeps
The window is the only portal
Through which one can see the beauty
Of the night outside
Trees flick by like memories, lost and blended by shadows
I remember the imaginary trees
Whizzing past
And the roar of the wood catching
As the pipe climbing from the stove whistles
It's dark and seeping from the window
Come the creeping fingers of cold gripping at me
The fire is blistering hot, but at my back
All I need to do is turn and the comforting winter embrace
Is always right there waiting
My chubby little fingers aren't hard and calloused yet
The cold dry.. It hurts
And my nose bleeds
It'll be fine
It always is
I was never afraid of a little hurt
It makes boys men
But for now my train is unstoppable
Tearing across an endless track
The colorful carved blocks
Magnets holding the links together
Iron filings
Grit between each faded joint
The segmented spine
Of a wood and metal
Twisting and undulating
Rattling it's little caboose
In anticipation
Of an unknown destination
As it burns through
Stained brown carpet
As the fire casts shadows stretch along the floor
One could imagine
It is a real train
The tracks are real now
It's a real train that tears across them
Like veins of a sleeping giant
Powerless to stop the iron bullets
In succession tearing through him
Those tracks are beneath me now
Endless
Cold steel
Cold and heartless
But savagely effective
In conjunction with the hissing pistons
The metal serpent hurdles forward
I can't remember where I was heading
Nor where I boarded
Come to think of it
All lost to that whistle
A cigarette burns steadily
A single ember in this segmented metal tomb
It overpowers my sense of smell and brings a seeming sense of clarity
I remember that little boy had a similar whistle
Or was it a sound he used to make with his mouth
I see a triangular prism
Wood with holes cut into it's three sides
Yes that's the whistle
The sound
The sound of power
The unstoppable rushing onward
Wheels pulse beneath me
Maybe it was gentle once, but now
It's a violent shudder
The metal reverberates every concussive strike
Like the hammer reverberated
Vicariously
Against every felled spike
A younger man laid these rails
A younger man drove these spikes
His hands are worn and calloused now
Blood and sweat flow freely
Salt stings only his indifference
This track is endless and finally as the sun drips low
The peaceful embrace of that ever present dark
Playfully marching across the sky
The cigarette flares with each drag
The comforting reminder that each breath is numbered
These tracks are endless
And were placed by a much younger man remember
But with that last drag
Everything
Even this almighty train
Must have a final stop
I make my way along the cars
Empty and cold
But there is a heat in front of me
Steadily building
There is an old familiarity about the sensation
Steady searing heat paralleled
Like this track
The driving inferno forward
That creeping cold at my back
A younger man formed these rails
Put down every length of track
The timber he cut to form the pilings
Spikes driven
Hammered
By his ****** fists
Rails carried and placed
Like a profane cross
Upon a sinners back
He is tired
Like I am tired
He walks into the sunset
Along the path he carved for himself
The silence is so peaceful
Step after solitary step
He looks out at the beautiful
Masterpiece only he could create
Never mind the soot and dust  
Mixed in sweat  
The stains that cover his aching body
Never mind the staccato drip
The pulse and fatigue ringing through depleted limbs
A steady drip
As his ****** fists
Paint little red drops, like shattering stars
With every click worn boots
On the fresh wood and steel
Every step
Along this path,
Is the solemn advance of a condemned monster,
And on this path,
Every step,
Is the wretched creep of a glistening black god.
I'm tired when I reach the engine room.
Involuntarily I open the door.
Somewhere in a dark room,
A boy innocently plays with his multi-coloured desert viper Coiled deceitfully on the floor.
It's burning,
My lungs grasp hopelessly
At the chance for brisk night air.
One of my hands is chained to the lever
The other to the chord.  
I remember walking in here once,
But I can't remember any more.  
The familiar sound surprises me
As it has every time before.  
A younger man
With the last ash of a cigarette
Stares transfixed
Paralyzed stepping through the door.  
...The sun on his track sets,
Between his rails his feet are sure.  
The trees are quiet and calm.
..Still..
Peaceful in the darkness
No pistons scream
Or monsters roar.  
..and then..
Is it behind
Or within me
..I hear a whistle.
Turoa Nov 2019
I wish I had a coat of silk, the color of the sky.
I wish I had a lady fair, as any butterfly
I wish I had a house of stone that looked down on the sea
But most of all I wish that I was someone else but me.

(Madeleine cheers up Gonzo)

Now I don't have a coat of silk, but still I have the sky
Now I don't have a lady, but there goes a butterfly
Now I don't have a house of stone, but I can see the sea
Now most of all I know that I am happy to be me.
I'm happy to be me.
A song by Gonzo the Great
Turoa Oct 2020
I’ve seen it 3 times in my life

Once by accident, when I was very young,

Once by choice, on a spit of land along an old road you’d never know unless you’d been there,

And now, every time I look in a mirror
Turoa Feb 2019
I've taken up writing as a means of venting

But what is written, lasts

Outliving even the author

And so we'd immortalize our fears

Anger hate and pain

Darkest of moments alive and well

The form of words writing their name

I can't say how many lines I've written

Then erased

Or torn from pages

Like wine poured over a broken glass

Sometimes there is nothing left to gain

Certain tortured lines should never be written

By innocent eyes

They should never be read

Some marks however sincere

Can only scar or stain
To all of you poets who vent,
A lot of the things I read are so negative.. It's raw, it's real, it's passionate but there must be something more. I can't judge, we all have varying degrees of suffering, but just don't let that be all that defines you.
Sincerely,
Some guy sitting in front of an old laptop at 0019,
someone who does give a ****.
Turoa Apr 2019
It can't be judged
One's state in life
It's a spectrum
Not a destination
Not a hunt for a 'why'
Those born into comfort
Can't condemn simple life
Nor those who struggle, spurn
Scoff at success in their strife
My perspective is my own
And we all push past defenses
In that search for 'home'
And white pickett fences
Turoa Apr 2019
I'm walking down the street,
No destination in mind
Using a phone I hardly understand
..a talk-to-text app of all things.
So many things, words to say
But ever unsaid,
Not because it would offend,
Feelings are delicate,
But because it would betray..
Would betray the one person
I know above all others,
A wolf walking
Down a street with no destination.

— The End —