Woke up to cymbals crashing divine,
I couldn’t take this harshness of mine.
What strange brew percolates our mourning,
we can’t even see ourselves hurting.
These eyes are numerous and staring into me,
can they even remember when they were free?
Give in, give in and know a requiem for your pain,
before you meet your Maker and confess yourself vain.
The forest’s edge stands astride,
giving way to thoughts of obsidian tint.
Fingers of plutonian ore
swallow beast and tree
in despondent sigh.
No comfort comes from the starless sky;
the Moon is veiled in mourning.
Critters of leaf and grass lay unmoving,
fear held in dilated irises.
Those who own the night thread e’er softly,
seeking sacrifice to appease that old god, Hunger,
upon an altar of rotting leaves and cold soil.
But hark, dawn’s sword splits the blackness,
scattering the shadows away.
Respite comes with the morn’s first light,
under twinkling radiance shapes take form.
A new day strikes for the forest old.
Somewhere, not far, a bird sings indifferent.
Between joy and regret,
a desired mistake.
Once two made one.
Once again I bring a few updates to some of my poems after workshopping them with some very talented people from my writers’ club (including two title changes). Links provided below. Hope you enjoy them!
PS. As usual, any and all comments/critiques/feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged. 🙂
Fourteen Billion Hands (previously Our Current)
Skin (previously Match & Skin)
My body lies
at the razor’s edge of revolution.
These lips of mine are a fire.
With a word,
I’ll see the World burn.
through every pore.
My skin is woven taut
It pulls anxious
for a single touch.
Solitude extends indefinite
over a wandering gaze.
Moments of uncertain tranquility,
caught in transfixed irises.
Carrying the surface tension
of a lingering kiss.
bleed slowly into frame,
warming the confines
of this cage.
The heart speaks.
Its words lost in
the midpoint of empty spaces.
Loneliness is a word
the World is built upon.
Fourteen billion hands
hold on to
This is not what was promised.
on a Spring
Seen from a
are my new
Yet they still
are you lonely?