"deafly" poems
Swiftly moving, surely breathing,
Death comes upon thee.
Deafly hearing, blindly seeing,
Death comes, you'll see.
Purely hating, silently screaming,
Death moves toward me.
Angelic sinning, awakened dreaming,
Death won't leave you be.
Drowned swimming, motionless fleeing
Death has to be the key.
Unharmful stabbings, helpful bleedings,
Death has slain me.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 7:23 PM UTC
They never started the same
They crawl up on her
They become part of everything
Dispersing across floors & furniture
A plate with fresh food
Thrown, mistakenly, at a wall
Shattering, only to breed
Innumerable monsters
Too much distress to even
Identify the name of
These creatures that
Preposterously morph around
The warm cup of tea she
Once held, warming her
Terrified self.
smash
Even with closed eyes, they haunt
Leaving the undecided question of
Is this some form of disordered
Disorientating other reality?
A rhetorical question, a statement
Of none expectant response
For these are for her eyes only
Her mind & her disorder
Running tracks, stairs
Streets, towns, cities
To no avail or answer
Worn out feet of battered soles
Stumbling the miles traced
Breadcrumbs, leave a Hansel & Gretel
Trail of discord, a cacophony of deafly noise.
smash
They are the disease of the night
They are the monsters of the mind
They are the enemies attacking a naïve self
Days spent, releasing fears
Of what once were dreams
Irrevocably impossible to change
For how is she to reach
Into a subconscious mind
Where the mice are chased
Defenceless prey
Victims of themselves
Slaves of the blackened sky
Where all there is to protect her
Are crashing stars, subsuming
Her very own nightmares.
smash
Stars setting her free
Free from sinful blasphemy
Awakening memories of
Unconditional love from
The honey moon set in
This autumn sky
Where all is forgotten
She is no longer the babe in the woods
A quivering girl, but a
Woman of remarkable wonder
Sleeping in silk sheets, bungalow number three
Château Marmont, 8221 Sunset Boulevard
Elixir of life, Princess of alchemy, believer
Of exoteric knowledge, trusting a
Universe, far greater than her.
smash
© Sia Jane
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
She fell in love with November,
for the way the sun shined down on
decaying leafs
and chilling temperatures danced upon the tips of her fingers,
providing her with a perfect balance between life and death.
She presented herself to the world in this manner,
always happy and bright, but never content,
as days carried on cracks in her skin led to trails of pieces on the ground.
Her eyes often flickered between a beautiful orange and a sickly brown.
Her heart, as much as it wanted to be warm was deafly cold.
She was a mystery.
And as December rolled in and the world froze over in darkness,
so did she.
The only light in her life was the moon.
how badly I wish she could've loved a month like June.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
Lightning crashes.
Scenery of Christmas lights and carnival delights.
Wishes of "wish you were here" and feelings of gladness that you're not.
Nothing here but invisible trees and extending branches.
Brains wired and falsely ecstatic.
Minds clouded with wonder.
Feet soaked in mud.
Lives filled with dirt, but not tonight.
Six feet under we're covered with dirt, but not tonight.
Music in our ears of deafly heard dreams, clouded by the constant ringing of sober-less memories, filled with invisible sounds of the undergrounds we so deftly tried to forget.
A house of cards, knocked down but slowly rebuilding in this temporary paradise.
We're all strange here; we're all separated by our hopes.
To drink, to drive, to live, to be buried, to stay alive, to not be buried alive.
On the edge of summer, on the edge of beginnings, on the beginnings of an end.
Passion is a pit for dead lovers. Dead lovers lie naked in the mud. Mud covers footprints of those who were here.
Puddles by morning.
Brains in a puddle, minds in a haze.
Lifeless gazes from across wet grass.
Is it dew from rain or are we due for rain?
What's the point of being wet, if we're dry in our souls?
Nothing matters, the eyes disappear into huddled masses.
Under your umbrella, under my last chapter, under our life's story.
Sun comes again, the great big wheel.
Omitting true light to those who hate it, no matter how deep their hate is driven like snow.
Lightning crashes.
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
In between the crevasse, the edges of two fingers,
Two boldly jutting stingers perpendicularly putting
A slick gripping upon a slim tantalum cigarette,
A discreet bayonette from weapons that should have kept
Their secrets, saved their wars, retained their scores
To themselves, mourned in their shells, sat in the corners of their skin and bone cells,
Weeping through fingernails.
The acid cannot wave between the lips,
Absorbed, contained inside their grips,
Decidedly encased inside like bottled ships
That cannot sail from inside a deafly, deathly speaking slip.
Those circled, muscled sinking feelings
Driven cold by air, the scarab dealings
Flying flus, thus rabid reelings,
Blades cantankerous on wings revealing.
Bottled, at stop, on gums that go.
Bottled razorlings, at stop, on gums that go.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
They slip through the cracks
In and out of every pit
Until with ease they arrive
Where Fools sit...
In grotesque embrace;
Questioning deafly till
They're blue in the face
Doubt spins round
Desecrating the air
And manic eyes blink
With glassy-eyed stare;
Murky mirrors reflect pale
Shadows of mens' minds
Mockingly peering down nose
As they sweep truths from under toes...
They slip through the cracks
In and out of every pit
Until with ease they arrive
Where Fools sit....
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 1:38 PM UTC
He stole something from her bed
and, it began messing with her head...
A Greek man came into her home
late at night when she was all alone
A naive girl who had wanted to learn a bit
about the culture of this ******
she regretted ever
meeting him
nearly scrubbing off
her entire skin
and, while her tears ..
like water rained on down
her sobs fell deafly to the ground...
for what seemed like hours, and hours...
while she stood weeping
in her shower.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
Be careful little lady for the world is ill
It beguiles you deeply to its will
And then you wake up everyday with no thrill
Love they judge as taboo
The hopeful who cares they misconstrue
As an idiot with a loose *****
The truth is but a faraway fancy
With people living for themselves only
Lies here and there, truth being heard deafly
Peace is a dying cliche
Violence, aggression all they pray
The dignity of many turning into decay
So you see my dear,sweet innocence
Open your eyes but embrace this reality with grievance
One that has lost its meaning and balance
But with you, a believer, a kind soul, might still give it a chance
Do take action with love and not vengeance
For you can still save a world stripped of conscience
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
I'm deafly afraid
that you never learned to stay a float,
that you will decide to take a swim in an ocean of your own sad tears,
and that I'll be to busy admiring your face in glass reflection of the water,
that the glass might shatter
and we just might drowned.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
Love is a frail word,
whispered out by the pressing
of the tongue against
the roof of the mouth,
falling deafly outwards
and with little consequence.
It comes rattling out slowly,
beginning there in the epiglottis,
mulling forward and pressing
against the back of the skull
like the blade on a dull knife;
never quite hard enough
to break the skin.
You hear it in the slightness
of the air, pushed through the
smallest gap between the
front teeth and the lower lip;
forming the mouth in precise
measures.
Somewhere within all of this
movement of air against the
contortions of the mouth,
there is a wonderful lie that
we have created for ourselves.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
Molten mote of gold,
I see you.
past the orange filaments of lightning
cast from your centre, you weave
crimson laces through the cage of my ribs.
avatar of light tearing,
crying, lashing
I feel it in my chest,
this heat
this soundless clamor
My eyes are too wide,
your needle too fine
too brilliant.
I could not dream your form,
given a thousand years of sleep.
Yet deafly I hear you,
in the turning of my bones,
the swell and decay of my blood.
Molten mote of gold,
I see you.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
I'm at a
loss for so
many things...
chiefly
words.
yet here they
are, blue in
the face.
a flailing
troubadour,
birds flocking
deafly...
thru half the
air's soul.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
hands gently shudder
even the thunders quiet
you stroke me deafly
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:01 AM UTC
Night arrives, darkness unfurls its old comforting splendor
Silently I surrender my sense of one to depth of non existent light
Slowly, gently accepting its embrace, its caress so soft and tender
My sensations swirling, falling, and abandon my sense of sight
Warming, comforting, alone and gently turning my face away from reality
Day has been long, burning, scorching, destroying my sense of hope
But in the cool, loving night I find the worlds hidden duality
When I find my body broken, my life breaking the spirit of my soul
Swiftly, gently, my heart opens to the chords and tunes I cannot find
Roaring deafly, soaring underground, logic left behind
Thoughts alone and thoughts they remain
For I have entered a world where darkness is domaine
Not sadness nor worry or anxiety to burden my heart
Slipping, tipping off the edge of duality of this imagined reality
Clinging, crying, begging for a reality where this duality
May yet spread its wings and feel the wind as it soars
Letting go of all the love and hate from before
Breaking, cracking, my very soul a knife into my own heart
I am flawed, a monster of my creation I know
When did it begin? When did this path a young boy start?
Where did I lose the innocence I might have once known
Finding comfort only in the solitude of my mind
That same mind is slipping out of reality
Where is it? That sense of self I may find?
Have I ever owned a true sense of identity
Powers of love lost in the pain and cruelty
My own words are daggers
And abandon their own master
Wounded and bleeding
Gasping, breathing, clinging to ideas of salvation
Hope is fading, light is falling beyond the hills
And at the end of it all only do I find revelations
That I have grasped and sensed I have had my fill
Night time, darkness, cool winds on burns
Softness, tenderness, caressing each in turn
Stillness, hushness, softly dying breaths and whimpers
Sweet promise of dreams of love and joy in slumber
Darker thoughts and ambitions forgotten long ago
And though my thoughts and soul give ‘way
To the darker side of Day
I find comfort of the stillness without fight
The stillness and the comfort of the night
Old friends, new ones, all encompassed in the slumber
Fantasies abound, darkness all around, coolness yet so tender
Dreams and fantasies of a life I may have known
Circling each before my eyes
Beauty incarnate of my own mind, my fantasies unwind
Embracing the tenderness of the night
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 7:40 PM UTC
take me away from this journey
i am trapped in the land of placelessness
blind / hypnotized
route 36 / bolivia
deaf / treated with ultrasound
simultaneously
scarcely knowing what all that means
like a child who isn't listening to anyone
i am feeling the rising of blood
a wave of heat like sandstorms
inevitability: willful / knowing / aware
i am putting myself at risk of dying
long ago i read about the risks and consequences
of my drug abuse
pervaded them intellectually while
my heart remains deafly because
of narcotics
bitter, sear, aflutter and in panic
there is just:
one life
one heart
one body one man
man what are you doing?!?!
i am hollering into my inner
embracing the envelope
obsessed over bitterness
numb love
in the dungeon of plotted heavens
lofty as never before
is where i am running away from:
every day
* * *
the rate of relapsing
drug users is vast
during the night
when the wind is
breezing mildly
when the stones of the cities
are breathing out the heat of the day
while you are
sneaking over the streets
while you are sensing the smell
of bitterness
while you are experiencing
yourself:
more deeply
more cleanly
and more knowingly
as before
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC