"mercurychyld" poems
Only you can translate
where you are
on your voyage through
this varied farce
called “life”.
No one else can dictate
to you…
or should even dare…
how to phrase
your feelings,
your thoughts,
your personal moments.
Who is anyone to
cause another to feel
inept or inferior
for wording their
experiences as they will?
We are all both
audience and poet,
consumed by the
powerful spell of words
and meaning
we are bonded
in ink.
It takes gumption
and courage
to give voice to
your vision of
the world.
It often requires
resilience and nerve
to open your heart
and peel back the
layers of skin,
and let others take
a long look at the
inner workings of YOU.
Be brave,
take courage,
let your soul speak
in its very own
language.
People will read
your words and
listen to the sweet
whispers
and thunderous shouts
that flow from pens
and keys
to release the
inner demons and angels
and the lyrical
vines that bloom and live
in our individual
landscapes,
fluidly coursing from
our own rabbit holes
with fortitude and grace
and our neverlands,
where we need never
grow up,
to share with those
that need to see
and hear and feel
and wonder.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
In conversation with my cousin,
she says, 'Oh my God, my
brother-in-law still remembers
you
as my cousin with the 'nice ass';
the 'hottie' from my wedding.
Still talking about me after
all these years, I see.
I couldn't help but think,
'wow, quite the first impression
I must make, or is it the
impression I leave BEHIND?'
and I felt the wheels spinning
in my mind, as they always do,
trying to decipher what the
appropriate response to
such an admission should be...
in this...particular...instance.
And I heard this voice in my
mind, shout, in its softest tone,
'I...AM MORE...THAN JUST...
A...NICE...ASS, if you take
the time to know me.'
So I realize that I find
the observation anything but
flattering.
Amusing, predictable,
redundant...yes.
But am I flattered, am I
even intrigued, or...
impressed, in the slightest?
Not at all.
For me, it is just...
inevitable entertainment,
among other things I
won't freely admit at this
time.
But if, and when, I happen
to lose any components
of my identity,
I can always remember,
that if nothing else,
I am...
(not my name, or even
my fetching idiosyncracies,
but...)
the 'Hottie with the
nice ASS', and
I wouldn't be able to help,
but smirk.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
Just as summer releases its warm embrace
Ushering in beautiful colors and flavors,
Love blossoms in my heart once again, reborn.
Your memory, my son, consumes and embraces
me in its own warmth.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights 26 May 15
Tuesday
~ In memory of my Giovani, my beautiful
boy with wings ~ ❤️ ~
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
A lone ship,
no particular direction,
thrusts forward and
pushes through,
fighting, often,
impenetrable waves.
Waves in constant rush,
pushing back,
slamming into its
outer walls,
repeatedly,
diligently,
never losing
momentum.
In the distance,
a lighthouse makes
its presence known.
A vessel’s unfailing
guide,
a beacon of
safety and light;
a way back home.
Providing a path
out of the dark
and noxious waters,
this pharos,
with aid of buoys
of encouragement
throughout this heavy
journey,
provide a stability
not often recognized
by other ships
in the night.
Oh lighthouse,
bring me home
where roots of
benevolence grow
and branches of
serenity
may take hold.
Embellish promises
of provisions
and comfort,
as route to never
be lost in those
unenlightened waters
again.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
I feel lonely
when you sleep.
I find myself walking
and pacing,
plagued by thoughts
and worries and
feelings of doom.
Wired yet empty,
as if some part of me
is missing or
ripped away.
Where did it go?
When will it be back?
Displaced, I am
obliged to search within
the trunk of memories
in my mind
and pick out a few
memories of you,
of us,
dust them off
and play them like
snippets of favorite
movies
and for a little while
I can ignore the flood
of tearful melancholia
that creeps and stalks,
just waiting to drown me.
For a little while
I can think of you,
our silly laughs and giggles
and mutual goofiness…
and for that little while
I can smile.
(Ode to my beautiful sons)
-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 23 Nov 15
Monday
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
Vibrant colors,
droves of faces,
quite the happy daze
Tepid gods,
vast oasis,
such euphoric haze
Visions sublime,
befuddled senses
precede the happy dance
Creativity sparked,
mother nature's dreaming,
find your totem in the trance
by Mercurychyld
©
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
Let us play today
It’s all about You and Me
Scented candles burn
Tease me like you do
A sweet agony endured
Minds devoid of Sense
Toys all meant for play
Fantasies will come to Life
Sighs will linger here.
Fetishes will rule
Inhibitions find no place
Among these ruins.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
At times, the silence
feels as oppressive
as tar,
and just as dark.
When the family
members are gone,
be it to school or work
or wherever,
I take the opportunity
to let her out;
the little girl with
all the scars,
who lives inside…
of the walls,
in between the halls
of my very being.
She cautiously walks along,
quietly,
and finds her spot
among the shadows.
There, she can
taste her fears,
and cry her tears…
with no one the wiser,
no witness to be found,
except the very
walls and halls,
but they can hold
a secret,
or a confession,
with the utmost
discretion.
Standing at a distance,
I allow her her space…
space for expression,
respite from depression,
safety from oppression,
room for regression.
The clock keeps ticking;
it never slows or stops.
She knows the hour
will come for her to,
once again,
return to the place
in which only she
resides,
inside.
Holding on
(for dear life),
till the next chance
she’ll come out,
once again,
for an ever needed
escape
from the tempermental
holds of our
Reality.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 29 Jan 15
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Between earth and sky
is where I abide.
Grass grows beneath my
feet and inbetween
moments of deep thought,
longings and unuttered
desires,
as I sit, communing
with the trees
and for a while, just
doing as they do...
just simply 'being',
no matter what
as they hold majestic
limbs up
toward the heavens
in adoration or
perhaps
interrogation.
And that is but
speculation or
imagination
on my part.
I sit, quietly,
somewhere between
this moment
and tomorrow
and wonder those
simple, complex
questions of old...
What does it all mean,
in the end?
What price do we pay
for passion or apathy?
Why are we here?
In my mind
worlds collide, die
and begin again
and this most
encumbered heart
still holds hope
by the throat,
refusing, yet, to
let go.
Between earth and sky
is where I abide.
That is where
you'll find me.
Full to the brim,
with questions,
wild, vibrant dreams,
and a never ending
sense...
of wonder.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Among the silent,
thunderous
halls of the mind,
there are pathways
one should seldom
roam, for, often,
the bitterest of
fruit grows between
the walls of an
intricate cognitive
labyrinth.
Still...
I walk the very
walkways that will
either lead me to
complete
self-destruction or
to enlightenment
and divinity.
I walk quietly,
tiptoeing around
certain memories,
so as not to awaken
them from their
slumber, and
incur their wrath.
I walk on glass
footsteps, as the
shards make their
way in through
broken arches,
in search of a place
to call home,
among the ruins of
a broken spirit
and a bludgeoned,
weeping heart.
Such is love and life
and the ever present
shadow of remembrance,
and still I walk,
leaving scarlet
footprints along
the way...
to remember
where I've been.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
A place in the country is where I'll retreat.
A place in the country is where two will meet.
A place in the country is where I'll find peace.
A place in the country is where all stress will cease
Let's rest a while, you and I.
Let's lock away grief and worry.
Let's rest a while, you and I.
Life just goes by in such a hurry.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
I will end this.
I will end this...Now!
I will escape your
Covert manipulations.
Under the guise of
“This is for your
Own good” or
“I have the solution.
My way is best”,
You plant rancid
Seeds of cunning
Deceit, and reap
My resentment.
You think your
‘Punishments’
Will make me
Feel powerless,
Submissive,
Intimidated
And lead to my
Destruction?
How wrong
You are;
How you
Underestimated
Me.
Surprised you
Didn’t I?
I am fully grown
And i’ve survived
Other devils
Uglier and sicker
Than you.
Marriage is but
Another cage...
A gilded cage,
Covered in false
Promises
And grandiose lies,
And empty words...
Of l-o-v-e.
The fragile,
Broken shell
Of a girl I used
To be is no longer
Here.
This day,
This time,
This moment
I would take
3 steps back,
And quietly
Slither away,
Like the snake
You are.
No longer tethered
To you.
No more platinum
Chains to
Choke me
‘Cause
I no longer
Give...a...shit!
I have nothing
To lose.
I’m a danger...
To you.
So today,
My ‘friendly’ advice
To you is...
Heed my warning,
‘Cause I’ll only
Say this once...
Step the f**k
Back.
The claws are out,
The fangs are bared,
And I dare you...
Come closer...
I won’t bite
(Only rip out
Your jugular).
I promise!
(She said with
A wicked grin)
~by Mercurychyld
Copyright 24 july 14
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
Demagogues of our society; daftly delivering
disarming delusions of decrepit delights.
Dealing in powder, rock and liquid death,
demurely doled out in droves to the
willing unconscious, dysfunctional deviants
of the land.
Blindly offering devotions, flaccid devotions
to plastic, white collar deities; giving new
definition to internal deformity, through
decelerated dejection.
Desperate and emotionally dismembered,
defrauded by quick, cheap decadence,
debauchery, and mental decay in many
deliriously delicious forms...pick a flavor,
name your poison!
Delegate your defect, as those with
doctoral degrees in defunct traditions
do deviously delineate their demented
designs...for our future.
DejaVu?
Perhaps, but in fact, it is we
who sniff, inject and drink up their drivel,
decidedly and dutifully depleted of
intellect by way of dubious data.
Duplicitous dullards...sanitize and
deodorize their fiendish lies...as we,
WE do nothing!
Not enough of us dumbfounded or
dumbstruck by their deceitful smiles.
Full of dread and deep dismay, by
the statutes of the day...I, for one,
will dream of better days, when we
shall defeat these diabolical demons.
But for now, down beaten, downtrodden;
we will continue to be denigrated for
the duration.
Clever dissection; dumb as they want you
to be,
disparity of all creativity...individuality...
and all of your rights...controversially.
Our disgruntled displeasure doomed...to
fall on dormant hearts...and we,
debilitated and daunted, lives dismantled,
are now forever haunted, by our freedoms
demise...by days we could question
their smiling lies.
Demagogues; Big Brother...such delinquents
dosing up the masses with a deluge of powder,
rock sedation and liquid elation...pick your flavor,
name your poison.
At the end of the day WE are ONE...duped,
defaced, defeated...and to continue on this
road, our final denouement will come
disturbingly disguised...as DEATH!
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
He is the painter,
painting images of
desperate desire
and vistas of love
and secret knowledge,
upon her skin.
Each patient and
skillful brushstroke,
weaves obscure
and cryptic symbols
in subtle, vibrant
tones upon the
supple texture of
her curving form.
She is a leather bound
notebook,
swelling with promise
of verses and poems
yet to be birthed.
He is the quill,
his ink flowing
abundantly,
spilling fertile words...
filling her every page.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
Who could’ve thought…
certainly not me…
how the fires of love
would burn so intensely,
and consume me
in the miniscule span
of three precious weeks.
Actually though,
it was longer;
it began
eight months earlier;
before the final
three weeks of your
most cherished life.
It was before I
tenderly touched
your fragile skin,
so paper thin,
and looked into those
beautiful amber eyes,
when you’d open them.
My own amber eyes
looking back at me.
You were my mirror
and I had no idea, then,
just what I’d see,
or what YOU could see
as you looked right
into me.
You, my little one,
showed me a part of
myself I never thought
existed
before you.
If I hadn’t held you
for the treasured
time allowed,
if I hadn’t felt you
with my own skin,
seen you with my
own eyes,
reached out with my
own heart,
or enveloped you with
my own mind,
I wouldn’t have believed
how much the fickle
fires of the heart could
grow, expand and
utterly consume me,
in the span of those
three precious weeks.
The moment you exhaled
your last little breath
and died in my arms,
you took a piece of
my very soul
with you.
Keep it safe, my love.
You planted it deep
within you long ago,
allowing it to grow.
I love you always,
of that never, ever doubt…
till we meet again
my treasured
first born.
I missed you then,
I miss you still,
and for forever
always will.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
~~~~~~~
~ In remembrance of my
Giovani, born and died
14 years ago this 5th
of July. Never forgotten.~
❤️
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
I see what you're doing; I know what you are.
Seen you travel some distance through
this lyrical bar.
I know your particular flavor,
as you 'give' yet leave nothing
to savor.
Did you say it all...did you feed your
callous need?
As your 'so called' critiques and comments
just left another to bleed?
How 'brave' you are behind your avatar,
but you see,
You've done little, if anything, to honestly
impress me.
You use your lack of diplomatic restraint
to simply crush spirits and leave behind
a dark, bitter taint.
Did you say all you needed, does is make
you feel better?
To ruffle thin feathers; crippling feelings
altogether?
I know what you're doing; I could BE you,
if I very well wanted to!
The bile and power of your word,
leaves poor souls understanding
that their thoughts and opinions, to you,
are absurd.
Time after time I read your insolent speeches
on many a blog,
as you spew forth your 'wisdom', dispensing
a high voltage flog.
I know what you're doing; I could BE you,
if I very well wanted to!
Unlike YOU, 'friend', I prefer to pay visits
and leave a word of kindness;
never leaving them with lyrical blindness.
Sometimes I may read, and have nothing
to say...if their words overwhelm, hit a nerve,
or inspire my mind to stray...to a place of
recognition...far, far away.
I just felt this deep need to express,
how you're grating on my nerves;
with your sour, evil comments
just disguised as 'clever words'.
Go on now, my 'friend', try to pen
words that INSPIRE...
I promise I'll be kind, even as
I unleash my fire...
unto the likes of you...
such a mean spirited shrew!
So next time, give great thought
to your comment before you click away,
'cause I know many a great poet here,
that by YOUR cold, pathetic words...
will NOT be chased away!
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
That Pillow...if it could speak,
would have all too much to say.
It would drown your very ears
with stories of fears.
It would count, for you, the lost numbers
of tears that have been shed,
but never wiped away,
just dried up slowly, instead.
That Pillow...if it could speak,
what would it say?
How many dreams and secrets
would it betray?
Ahh, but that tender Pillow of mine,
it would never cross that line,
For it is always there...eager to bend...
for me,
and always to lend...
itself, as my friend, you see.
That Pillow...it serves me quite well,
and though there is always much to tell...
I know it will never sell...
me...out like that.
Discarding judgement, it takes it all in...
both virtue and sin.
Soft confidante as well as confessor,
putting up with the aggressor.
Never questioning a word or thought,
or the torment of inquiries sought.
Oh...that sweet Pillow; it knows me too well,
And a true friend indeed;
veiling inner stirrings and secret stories...
and it shall never tell.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Atop a hill
most glorious and tall,
you stand as constant
reminder of
judgement for all.
Primordial symbol
of ancient tradition
and the God-given right
to practice volition.
Infinite laws and rules
serve as soul's taxation,
but in the end, most of
those will not purchase,
for us, our ultimate
Salvation.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Organizing his school bag,
my son found a
Mother’s day card
he forgot to give me.
He apologized and
handed it to me
with a look of
pride and love
in his eyes.
I hugged him,
while struggling
so my own eyes
wouldn’t water over.
I walked back to
my room, and sat
next to my husband;
another loving soul,
and suddenly
it hit me
like a freight train...
an Epiphany.
In a matter of seconds
it all flashed
before me,
mere seconds,
that told me
SO much.
I realized that
how I was raised,
growing up in a
constant state of
fear and quiet rage,
I was led to believe
I wasn’t special
or worthwhile.
MY thoughts
and feelings
had no meaning
or place,
to anyone.
Family,
Love,
Acceptance,
Self love
and Peace...
all ripped
from me.
Believing the Lies
that I would never
be or accomplish anything;
would NEVER be good
enough;
was WRONG for just
being...Me.
I lived only a half life.
Existing,
but never LIVING.
I longed for all
the things I never had;
all those beautiful
vocabulary words
and adjectives
I never understood.
Nothing tangible,
but more
immeasurable
and abstract.
Now, as I looked around,
I saw what I had,
and it scared and
unnerved me,
yet made my eyes
glisten with tears
of realization.
Realization
that I now had
my ‘Family’
who ‘Accepted’
everything about me,
and seemed to
‘Love’ me,
unconditionally.
What do you do
with that?
How do you deal?
I don’t have
a perfect or age-old
wise answer.
All I can say is,
that door which was
slammed shut
and locked in my
early life,
was now wide open,
and Love
walked through,
finally.
Maybe this time
it’s here
to stay.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 7:56 AM UTC
Life throws
live bombs at you;
abuse,
cruelty,
manipulation by
‘so called’
loved ones,
betrayal of trust,
****** of innocense,
all contributing
to the grand design
and creation of a
sorrowful, raging monster;
a special breed.
You come to
discover and sharpen
the only real
weapons
you possess…
YOUR WORDS.
These words
become like machetes,
cutting and chopping
through bone.
These words
become the lethal
bullets that
penetrate
deep into the
crevices of
heart and mind.
Somewhere,
within the vast
depth of yourself
you find a strength
and courage,
in between
the layers of
rusted scars,
creating a new
persona,
one who will
stand up for you,
when your fragile
‘self’
cannot.
This creature
takes the brunt
of the hurt
and fear
directed your
way.
Those that pretend
to love you,
yet cause only harm,
witness this savior
you’ve borne,
and have the nerve
to be offended.
Often these
Pretenders
find it quite
entertaining to
watch and listen
as you tear
another apart.
That is,
until you turn,
and point your revolver…
at THEM.
Bang! Bang! goes
that gun,
and down they go,
obliterated
by your own hand,
and you can
only offer up
an amused grin…
as they
bite the bullet!
~ by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
As I sit and watch the leaves
falling off the branches of trees
I can't help but wonder how it would be
to have our most painful memories just fall away.. like withering leaves.
But then I remember that it is there, in the midst of
painful moments,
when we crash against those immovable rocks that the most resilient of character in us is
coaxed out of the darkness
and brought forth...
into the light.
By Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
The truth lies
not in her eyes,
for she learned
long ago
how to forge
desperate lies.
It's as she was
conditioned to do...
to tell lies
with her eyes,
and beguile
with her smile.
The truth lies
not in her eyes,
but if you must know
just where her
verity dwells...
it's in her voice...
the timber,
the rhythm,
the words,
the whispers
in the sound.
It's in her voice
that her truth
will be found.
Can you hear it?
By Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Woman: “I know you’re there, I always know,
so please, come out.
We have so much to talk about.”
Child: “I’m just always scared and alone, it
really hurts to be me.
All I am is everything they don’t want
me to be.”
Woman: “You missed out on so much care and
affection, but now we can help each
other find the right path and direction.”
Child: “Oh, it’s ok.
I’m never good enough.
Guess I never really deserved
love or affection anyway.”
Woman: “Please don’t say that, don’t let’em
convince you that **** drivel is
true.
I’ve known you well, always, and I
truly DO...Love you.”
Child: “No matter how I tried, I could never
please, or do ANYTHING right.
I’m just SO tired of this fight.”
Woman:” I know, my fragile child, that’s why
I’m still learning to be
everything you need and needed,
you see?
Because, my little one, we must
both realize and always remember
that we are never quite alone...
‘cause I am YOU, and you are ME!”
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
I see,
I know,
I feel,
I recognize your pain.
All that you attempt to hide
from the world is a gloriously
open book...for me.
For, you see, I live in that
same pain as well.
We are neighbors, you
and I, though you
don't seem to know it.
We share adjoining rooms
there...like bookends,
holding up the spined
volumes of our
injured, fragile
lives.
But no fear,
for what I've seen
and all I know..of you...
will never leave my
sight and will never
be discarded or
disclosed to others
who will never,
could never...
truly understand.
You mean more to me
than even I dare admit,
and you always inspire
worlds of thought,
as you have carved
yourself a unique
space in this tattered
heart....
and I will protect this
'gift' of you...
as long as I draw breath.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
She walks in circles
ever confused in this life
in the grips of fear.
~ by Mercurychyld
(Aka Maria E Labbe)
Copyright 22 Feb 16
Tuesday
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC