Category: Poetry

Tainted Blood

person s hands covered with bloodA lonely peer, a doorway.
Most still lay asleep.
Strangers, cloaked as lovers.
Lineup…for the rabbit hole.
Their smiles, fake, and you know it.
Will, did not lead them here.
All they want is to shower in that devil’s medicine.
Melt and run away.
How can you hold their hand?
Allow their laughter, their play,
to fill an ego until you trick them.
With a lie like the blood is clean.

Past Eight

road amidst bare trees
Whistles silent,
brews stress pinched to the nape.
TV flickers black and white but can’t turn it off.
Frozen mittens dry from the blessed heat,
brings sweat with no one to blame.

Mumbles first, like there’s someone to fight back.
Then, the knee goes,
not worry, just wonder.
Past eight…

…old lady’s not home.

Forgotten Notes

backlit boy couple dark
Let me sing to you, my daughter,
so I may make the strings of your heart,
play music that’s in between.

The Red Road

macro photography of pathwayI walked a path less travelled,
on a road covered in red.
Evergreens bowed before me,
to welcome back an old soul.
Draped, lonely…in silence.
A still that became my only friend.
There, my worries were sheltered,
protected by a forgotten trail.
That journey became ritual,
to protect me from blended reality.
I ran as soon as the sun would let me,
far away from the stranger who looked just like me.

 

That Song

alone-beach-black-and-white-702264.jpg
I remember that song.
Every note just for me.
Sweet melody,
aimed straight toward my heart.
Our souls in tandem with the music.
I’d bathe in the cast of your light.
You with that grin.
I’m there sometimes,
when I go back,
for a listen…just for me.

Lonely Heart

alone buildings city cityscape

It barely even beats.
Doesn’t matter though, now.

Given this heart…
only to stare at strangers,
thinking that for a life’s blink,
that stranger could have been you.

I tired of being wrong.

 

No One Cares About Superman

I’ve saved the day… so many
with a cape that’s now tattered and torn
bullets are starting to pierce me
with an ego that is badly worn

I do not wear any more disguises
for there’s no glory I ever sought to claim
people still pass on by me
and take no notice of this hero’s pain

go on and send up your beacon
these wounds are barely healed
from the kryptonite of being forgotten
a power that strongly wields

no one cares about Superman
does he hurt, bleed, or even cry
only, until one day needs saving
and he no longer wants to fly

Dark Fantasy

white and black moon with black skies and body of water photography during night time

Oh, beautiful moon, why do you tease me?
With fantasy, I know is not real.
Darkness always has another plan for me,
where light can never celebrate.
I dare not chase away the loneliness,
for the night will expose my weakness.
I have no prayer to use,
don’t lie and tell me there’s fate.
Go…just go, and leave me,
drift away into tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll open my eyes when it’s over,
and see if the sun still cares.

Whispers From You

town next to body of water

A lull from the hillside early morn,
like a whisper from you.
I stood in the chill…
…with a tear reminder,
of what I’ve lost.

Sweep me up,
walk with me through the valley,
take me to the mountain tops.
I am brisk, I am alive…for now.

Whisper some more to me,
until the mutters grow so faint.
I know the cold will still return,
only, wait until it’s the final breeze.

Journal Entry # 108 – My Wounds, My Words

book book pages college education

A poet should be so crafty with words that he is envied even for his pains. – Criss Jami