"thime" poems
The moon casts an ominous shadow overhead,
as if the sun's lightbulb had gone dead.
The hairs on my neck stand on end,
something dreadful is around the bend.
I don't know what i'll find there,
there isn't any thime to prepare.
All that lie here lie dead,
some stabbed, some shot in the head.
The engraved marble shines with threatening air,
something tells me i'm in for a scare.
A flash of steel announces the precense of his quarry,
this is where I begin to worry.
He starts to circle me menacingly,
that solomn steel blade is all I see.
The corners of his mouth turn up to see
the prominate fear inside me.
He crouches and bows his head,
it's all to clear he wants me dead.
The bite of his blade is all too real,
the wound he just made will not heal.
My heartbeat significantly slows down,
as I bleed I fall to the cold hard ground.
As my vison goes I begin to see,
this thespian was always after me.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 4:23 AM UTC
Over three years time
Oh how you left me
In this state of sheer shock
Standing barefoot and empty
Feel a bruise
And let it be
Tear the skin
And watch it bleed
Read a book
And rip a page
Doused with word upon word
Of bitter rage
Oh well that was then
I was in such a state
That if you touched my skin
I’d turn to glass and break
Unearth my shattered surface
And reveal my war-torn mind
My soul has been tarnished
My core crushed in violent crime
To look through is to witness
A façade of a long, red braid
A rope of stone and hazel eyes
Housed behind a stained-glass window pane
I don’t show much, no
But I seldom showcase pain
My body’s a vessel in which
My broken soul’s contained
Shed a light that leaves my body
A translucent haze
My all, my everything
Will be left for you to gaze
And watch and learn and yearn
For my soul to be saved
But that light will never be cast
For I reside in a darkness
With a cloud so gray
And a wind so pained
And an aura of sheer silence
I had a hunch that you were leaving
But never had I thought that soon,
You left the air so thick and pained
All your tropies still sit in your room
The picture of you from when you were young
Spans prominent on the wall
And every thime I scale the stairs
The weight of you is so heavy
I could fall
October replays incessantly
Across a shifting wall
Flashes of happy
And whips of winter
And splashes of summer and fall
Chairs aligned
With people behind
Unknowingly awaiting a fate,
Unfairly tossed to them,
You get what you get,
Luck and happy have to wait
You come back to me from time to time
In a movement or a smile
But it’s transient though
And you quickly return
Goodbye love for a while
Sprinting on a runway
Gaining my momentum
I’m going to need it to fly
I can no longer do what I’ve done
For so long
I just can’t live a lie
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 1:45 AM UTC
I was standing on a rock
In a barren place
Waiting, for sleep
Waiting for pity
Praying for empathy
Sleep is my best friend now
Nightly slumber
Eagery anticipated
A few pages of a book
To occupy a
Troubled mind
It takes me away
From the barren place
That is life
In a moment
Of pain,
Longing
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
the night falls, and so does her.
she gets into bed and crawls straight to the sheets
on, between, under
the thin layer of the heavy
solitude,
hearing the defeaning sound of
silence;
hearing the whispers of life leaving.
the absence of light
as a state of comfort
was very sugesting,
she wished it to stay
for good
calm, timid, flirtatious, unreadable
so
inviting.
the rain wakes her up abruptly
form her desire
from her plans to fulfill dreams...
rain drops hope
because it doesn't want to stay up there,
it has to flush
creating
stalled liquid
and a kid splash it
barefoot, naive
rushed about tomorrow
not knowing that it means.
smash to dissipate
craked, shattered,
water becoming future,
water becoming nothing.
a soft but noticeable sneeze of wind
pass throught the window
not asking for permission
but convinced about
cover everything
sinking into every inch of space.
there comes sharp
the smell of old wood and fresh black dirt.
dawn is not allowed,
not this thime.
death sits in the corner of the bed
to read a story
about Mara,
and then
oblivion kisses her goodnight.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC