The Danger of Silence - poem

I can’t stand it

I need the music, my thrumming heart
melding with the rhythms drumming out the beat
of this dizzying anthem of the night
the ode to the evenings when the sun sets
in your eyes and the dark pool lingers, inviting me in for a
dive

if I swim for a hefty measure of intertwined moments,
in the enticement of your irises
your blood will usurp my audio space
flowing from veins to my vision, my vibrating sight
enveloping me in your bittersweet, velvety melody
-instead

I can’t stand it

your silence is maddening
it transforms the pool into Rorschach’s questions,
no longer the kaleidoscope of dangerous, oratory beauty
but blotches of fluorescent buzzing
and buzzing
inside my throbbing head

I can’t stand it

or stand at all when my balance is ravaged
by uneven tunes and eras of nothingness
where memories of your symphonies accompanied by
masterpieces of impressionist melodies
haunt the canvases of this room
where I lie, shiver, forcing words from my mouthpiece
and they land, on my visual field
as the inkblots of a lunatic

what do you see
in the waters swirling here
in the eyes of a damaged instrument?

I can’t stand it
so I don’t

without you dancing and singing your beauty into
my line of sight
without you painting my world with the kind of music that permits time to
move.

Choices--poem

I remember their song
cicadas humming for hours
crescendo of nature then
diminuendo
as Night and Dawn collide
the symphony of spectacles
explodes before my eyes
stinging my mind leaving a mark and
the pain still burns
fire simmering beneath the surface
I can taste it yet
my world lacks flavour
vibrancy fading
my energy wilts into
the cemetery of dearly
departed dreams and
beliefs I remember dusk as
it ravaged the peace
saturating my skin
I used to bask in it
the Ikon of
my Nights painted there by angels from
ancient moments
distant
displaced
I hear whispers
knowing it’s of winged guardians
sometimes wondering if it’s something else…
a sinister force, perhaps
then I realize
my worst enemy is
the girl staring back at me
I see myself reaching out
this timeI should take it-
grasp the hand that has
dealt mistakes
sins
yet still some good
feel the song this time
hear no evil in the cicadas humming
just be still and
listen
be still and
live

Bottom Line--poem

When it comes down to it
it doesn’t really matter anymore.
I can’t find you on
call displays, or hiding in
my pocket, of the
sweaters that kept me warm or
the shirts
you left behind.
I can’t feel your touch
on my shoulders at
the end of
every day.
Do you know-are you aware that
every blink of an eye I
hope will spring you to life?
Do you know that
when it rains, I miss that warmth-
when your arms were my blanket?
When all is said and done,
it doesn’t really matter.
Morning comes again,
night swallows the sun whole.
Dreams still haunt,
life burning eternal,
with you,
no more.

Turn Around -- poem

It’s no one’s fault, but
of course it’s so
God damned easy to
point my finger
(at aforementioned Deities or)
at whoever is poor enough, to
be close to me.

Try not to punish, condemn Me for
asking you this favour.
You’ve always loved me, I know it, I feel it-and,
I can believe you know
I adore you.

When did that point sweep into
my life?
That pinnacle, marking
the Truest Loss, as if
life turned me ‘round,
my back to the Sun.

I remain burning, blind, to Love and
all Nostalgia, belonging to you-
me-to
us, Long Ago-
instead I linger,
facing frigid Night.

When did it change? so that
instead of fear, I bask in
the darkness, welcoming its mysteries?

When will I return to face
the golden possibility of
lightness in Love-from
a new Spring?

Would you offer some sign?
Slip into this mortal plane,
defying laws and bounds, to
show me you’re near?

Although I’m not afraid of
darkness and the moon’s frosted rays,
I do fear the emptiness; the
winter of endless, mortal Time
without you,
spinning me ‘round so I bask in
the Sunshine so I sleep soundly in
my night and can freely
give my heart to
a shining, deserving

Other.

My Rose -- poem

Petals are calling
tracing fingertips over
the surface at
the same time
touching clouds and
velvet nights in
waiting
it heaves then
shrinks
wanting attention or
someone
to dive onto its
luxury
going gently
caressing the air
knowing not to disturb
what supple particles
hold this together
giving warmth and
unbelievable comfort
what a dwelling to behold
to dream in
cushioning my hopes and
kindling my burn
so softly
powerful
gravity changes
horizontal pulling until
I fall being held,
kept and
lose myself in
silky arms

Altered Replay--poem

After a while it fades to grey-
like raining ash after
the explosion-
How cliché does that sound,
but who really gives a Damn?

If I told you I loved you,
I’d be lying.
Oh, I’m sorry:
did that hurt?
(But the truest lie is that
I never cared.)

Even if I’ve fooled Myself by saying
you’ll call tomorrow or that
you’ll smile
every time you see my face.
You still don’t have the right to
smother my Love all over the pavement
with each instance that
you had to be drunk
to hand me any
semblance of affection.

Spinelessness has run its course
and tired its useSo toughen up, or walk out-
(like you do so well
every day, every time, in every way).

You’re still the same.

You’ve become the Ghost, haunting
my what if’s,
trickling through my every pleasure and
torment-

Teach me how to transform to
mist-
for you will never
transubstantiate
my fantasies of you and I
into delicious reality.

Teach me how to disappear like
you’ve mastered-
time and day and month, year-
enough of the rambling.

Teach me how to
sever all emotion or
replay your forte and
just leave.

dry--poem

You don’t give a damn-
not sure if I did either, but
what’s certain is this:
I wanted what I remembered of
how you felt.

We barely knew the simple but
critical things.
I can recall how you kiss but
your favourite song, colour, story-
remains a blur.

I’ve been walking through life,
with my back to the wall,
my head turned to watch the past and
hope-
but now I’m facing
tomorrow head-on, curious
to hear what steps fall behind me.

The burning question, kindling
my consciousness, is whether I’ll encounter
a following or if
my sights will pull me forward,
donning me Pursuer.

Fatigue of the mind, body, and
Passion,
summons temporary apathy
within me.
All I have in this moment of
acceptance is the drive to
move on with
the clichés of yesterday,
mistakes from the Night, and
the ability to face
the burning desert of
a New Day.

mess -- poem

take some
give some
return, rebound
craving emotion
then loathing the swoon
on bended kneep
leading
genuflecting
stand next
worship
recoil
arms to the sky
scream
demand an answer
feeling the weight
as Atlas
holding the sphere
bend again
backwards
break
forever moving
buckling
feeling the iron
prepare
yearning for numbness
after that rush
adrenaline
after the feeling
die a little
try to live
still quivering
chaotic logic
peaceful insanity
brewing the mind
fading
fading
rushing forward
fade once more
what am i talking about
i wasn't even aware
of my heart
beating still

Induced Familiarity--poem

Have we met before?

I can see the outline of
your strong frame
from the corner of
my eager eye.
I turn to face you,
like a tango spin;
locking my gaze onto
yours.

I can feel your arms
exploring my territory,
finding their place of Rest
‘round my shoulders.
I burrow my own
within the warmth
of your hoodie,
so they find your waist,
and your chest invites my cheek to
stay a while.

I can hear your Heart beating
like the Rhythm of
a sultry tune.
In my mind I review trying
to separate Memories from dreams of
you.

Have we met before?

I can barely stand,
reeling from sweet
Captivation.
Your enticing eyes pierce me and
keep me transfixed,
while I run my fingers through
your dark tresses.

I can feel the pulse approach
a new Flavour.
Unsure of whose heart is pounding out this
intensely unpredictable
rock ‘n roll Spell.

I can tell you’re evaluating-
what dare I do next in this
dance?
You know me well, and predict
my answer before I even
begin.

The slightest incline in the corner of
your Lips sparks
the blaze.
I can hardly control
my breath and reason.

Your lips hold sway over
each reflex.
As the kiss deepens,
I can no longer tell if I’m standing or winding
in seas of warmth or sheets of silk.

Does it matter, really?

You whisper the reply into my ear,
forcing my blood to
every Extremity.

I knew it then, but now
I can not remember.

Have we met before?

Say yes so
the bridge will fall,
I’ll embrace reality and meld it
with bliss-

Haven’t we met?
Say yes so I have
to dream
no more.

Possession --poem

You’ve got me wanting you-
with each turn of phrase,
each sweet thing you say
you’ve got me believing that
you actually care.

Yet the second you scooped
all the substance of
your promises
(and lies)
from my core of faith
in Something Better,
you had me searching
in a chamber of Emptiness
and regrets.

It’s mind-numbing, Love
that Inaction screams at levels that
deafen my heartbeat to a
hollow tone.

You don’t have to act on much other than
your indifference and
you have me Bound-
scraping the walls of
your forsaken Kingdom-
and you have me
wanting you-
morphed into a Memory-
Even more.

Too Bad -- poem

Don’t waste my energy-
even when you don’t mean to,
you wear me out.

Like this blanket draped
half on
half off my tired bed-

I’m splitting apart in
(more than)
two.

Don’t worry, dear:
I’ve got the glue to adhere
and return to
the Balance that was.

I’m no fool and still
you’ve made me feel like
Apathy’s designer,
for everything from
Love to Lust
and back to Common Sense.

I’m not, but it doesn’t matter.

I won’t bitch
and complain,
I’ll just change like
I do so well.

No more rebellion,
I’m just going to be the Woman
I’m meant to be-
and with every step
glance
kiss
I dish out,
the She you see
breathes the truth of this
Female’s Business.

I’m done with bull and shackles-
your repression sucks
so I’m laughing it off.

Here I am-
whether you take it
or not
I’m walking on,
smiling all the while.

Frostbite - poem

My eyes burned with the passing years,
freezing them agape,
emotionless-

Ice building theLens, masking the pain,
showing the Irises with their uncanny
Warmth.

I repeatedly wonder-
the same dreams replay over
and over and over
again;

Some sick cycle stuck on the
spin-of today and yesterday
and today and
Tomorrow(?)

and then-

the f a d i n g v i b r a t i o n s s s .

I am Still.

Yet reeling-forever wondering,
burning inside-but that Fire is deficient
ever more, to melt my disposition;
(regrets)
of the many Yester-hours
and too-long moments ahead.

Carry the torch-
if you dare,
melting each drop of mistake-ridden
encasement.

Unveil Pandora from her paradoxical,
(un)restful Slumber.

But when I wake,
who will be the audience?
Flakes of falling regret-
sheets of Frigidity-
or two palms with the Warmth
my eyes used to display
(the same as that at the Core)?

Is Love still the same?
Or have my frozen memories
distorted Reality
to the point where everything
I perceived as Good, Fulfilling, Kindling-
can solely caress my skin
with the needles of my
Frostbitten Coffin?

Embedded Tale - poem

if I put this moment to Words,
there’d be only so much
I could Scribe.

A Story or Song-both meagre-
and still, here’s the attempt
with a promise of an end
that would put the most Sumptuous
Reverie to a test.

the Look You gave me began the Tale,
foretold my reactions with each
Burning Stare.

You led my Hands and I think You’ll find,
my Skin’s most obedient to Flaming commands.

rising like Steam, my Palms trailed from
Your Sides, to Your Shoulders,
then Your Cheeks, to the Succulent place
where my Lips would soon find.

Winding like Bed Sheets,
Your Arms found my Back,
just after mine Embraced Your Neck.
Nuzzling in, above Your Collar,
(breathing in Enticement)
my Senses were
Chaos.

You Grounded me swiftly with the
Warmth of Your Kiss.
Twisting, Tangling, Pressure Increasing-
my Blood boiled Hotter;
my Vision was Star-Struck.

I dawned on the inkling that
the Climax approached-
Bracing my Fingertips for the Sweet, Scalding
Force.

there it was-
the Point of No Return-
the Plot at its thickest-
a Choice hit the forefront of my Creative
Reasoning.

Rewrite or press on-then the Choice was
Abducted.

from my blind spot came Crashing,
a Surprise Ending as such:
my eyes opened,
i shivered,
pulled the blanket up tightly to where
Your Kisses
imprinted our Story-
Narrating my
Dream.

Northern Rule - poem

I sat here waiting-
I’ve been waiting all my life.
I’m restless and tired,
yet I falter again and again.

There’s a fire inside of me;
yes, of the clichéd sort.
Sparked by desire,
fed by insatiated yearning.

As I sit, stare out into the night,
or let the sun blind my unrelenting ambition,
the tears turn to ashes
(I return to myBeginnings)
and it’s my fault-

The fire consumes me inside,
illuminating my longing,
and Memories from Then.

Remember the melody pulsating vigorously
through our veins, as we glided
across the Floor of my youth.

No Walls remained,
just endless skies.

It didn’t matter how the Sun would swelter
or the Moon would freeze-

All that I held dear, was
in my arms.

I’d spin, dip, Fly-
You’d be my wings.

I never knew what
Winter could do.

Watch these arms, floating down to my sides,
like amber leaves in Autumn,
after the life in them is swept by the
Northern Winds.

I’m still waiting, but
not for much longer.

My focus shifts to the
fear of the Currents.

They await the ashes, falling from me-
to carry them away,
before He can come-
to where I belong-

North, and higher still.

To where my Wings will lead,
returning to Warmth,
returning to You.

Judgement day - poem

though I caught a glimpse of Heaven's Bliss,
I fear that I threw my
Wintered heartinto hell; your Dominion.

though whether you'd reign waist-deep in
Frigid Loneliness,
or enthroned, overlooking your
Smothering Sea of inescapable,
Licking Flames,
no verdict's been reached.

you would either preserve my Frozen state,
forever Undead by your Indifference.

or the very Fire that once sparked my Desire
would turn this ice, and with it, my life
to Vapour: forever swirling,
Aimlessly-as the Desperate Crests
of the Infernal Waves.

be gentle, love, for when I see your Face
in my Cursed Dreams,
my lungs Constrict the little air
your Affections bless me with.

like the gnawing Anticipation,
Sickeningly Spinning within me,
I replay a Reverie of you and I,
your body and mine-
Vines of Flesh.

I was safe in your arms until you wrapped
'round my chest-I woke up, uncertain...
did you Compress me to Asphyxiate?
or grasp me, only to
throw measide?

All that I know,
is what remains inside: this Burning Curiosity,
and a prickling memory or fear
of being discarded to Eternal Winter.

I'm dying to know: when you pulled me Close,
Breathed me in, and I Tasted you-
did you mean to Kindle
(my) Desire-to Feed
Our Affection?

or have you planned to push me
far away, yet Close Enough
for the Frost to imprison me,
manifesting Glass Bars,
forever gazing,

at Heaven's Door?

Insufficiency - poem

There was a time…
do you remember those days
when waves and sunburns were our only concerns?

I felt like a Queen in your Utopian Kingdom-
someone important, to whom you gave
Dominion.

I didn’t need gifts, praise,
or recognition.

Your smiles made me richer
than any living ruler.

I didn’t need expense,
only your bear-hugs for warmth.

I swore that I could never feel cold again.

If ever a tear dared stain my cheek,
you would not only be a King,
but a great magician.

My pain, the salt tears would disappear
and sting my soul no more.

We approach the climax of this
insignificant fairy tale.

No monsters or heroes
dominate the scene.

I simply remember waking before the Sun
to embrace you and wish you a fulfilling day.

That you returned home
was a gift in itself.

Now comes the fall.

And an incomplete end.

When I think of you, the warmth is no more
than a dim glow-
Insatiating and maddening.

The fire is gone, my blanket ceases
to exist.

All I have, is the Earth's embrace,
as I lie here at your stone.
And the lingering breeze
caressing my face,
where your Loving hands once used
To roam.

Two Princes - poem

He
(Would hate to admit it but he)
danced with me, when he passed me by,
locking his gaze on mine-

He held my thoughts with his smile.
So freely I gave my hand to his
(He commented on how soft I felt).

I suppose he believed me to be also
internally soft.
For after pulling me towards
his affections and words, he tested my strength-

Slapped my hand away
(doubly hard than he pulled).

And that was the last step in the dance,
with the Prince who would transform
into a haunting, lingering
memory.

After elapsing time,
please allow me to introduce
the Second Prince.

His eyes deemed him both predator, prey
(it may sound cliché).

Déjà vu of the First-I met his stare,
then danced, and kissed-
I was the first to leave.

A yearning so deep, kindness in his heart,
praise with many turns of his phrases-

He's falling for who he thinks I am,
when I know the truthful being he's craving.

He wants an idea,
a Princess with the same qualities he dreams of,
virtues he thinks he sees.

Neither have realized, I'm not what-
or who
they've assumed.

Princes cannot fix a woman broken in two.

I am strong, not
invinceable.

I am no Princess, or Idea;
just a Woman, with a wish,
for not a misguided Prince,
but a (Willing)
man willing
to embrace the real
Me.

Symphony, re-written

I wrote a song the other day
then tossed it aside, left to decay.

I grew tired of writing
and bleeding the words
that spoke of you then of me.

There was never an "us"
just broken trust-I'm sick from waiting-
this shouldn't just sit, and stew and strengthen,
when there's havoc to wreak.

You were the words I'd choke on
but never stop saying.

I was the paper; you poisoned my skin.

Only recently did I realize,
to be rid of the memory of what could be
between you and me, I'd have to
toss aside my own pride;

The paper you wrote on-
the passion that died.

Now my words sting of acid-regret.

With a promise to look forward
to someone who'd let the void fill up
with ambitious infatuation.

And a promise for inspiration-
to be a muse for my pen.

And the colour that stains over
what was done-what was said-

And the Music
of your mistakes.

attempt|tseuqer - poem

Silence.
For a moment, then the beating
of my heart.
Like a symphony,
the strings of our words
harmonize with my heart's
percussion.

Throbbing,
my head begins to drop to my hands that hold it up-
trying to stay awake.

I hit my pillow, surprised.

Craving sleep.

Craving escape.

Dying, yet still reviving
the memories.

Piercing the stillness.

Thrashing, only inside
(outside would look pathetic).

Only to notice I'm clutching the cure.

Stifling-my love,
we can't breathe together.

Fighting for breath, fighting for release.

I tear my arms away, afraid you'll hate to be
mine.

But then again
you told me once it had been too long,
and you kissed me.
Held me.
Led me.

I've turned my back.

You'd have to reach out to get me to hold you again.
For I've let go-

Or at least I can say
I tried.

Incomplete -poem

Does it ever kill you-
do you sit there and wonder if I’m ok,
what I’m thinking?

Would it ever cross your mind,
or compel you to pause,
during the lull of the night
that I might be shivering
without you?

The stupid thing, is well…
I know this is wrong.I
know I shouldn’t-

In theory, it makes no sense.
But my heart’s still beating,
despite the needles piercing through.

Can you ever feel the pain,
does any of this happen to you?

Breezes, pillows, blankets, hot chocolate-
nothing can cool my angry mind,
or thaw the ice that’s freezing my life.

At times I want to shake your shoulders and scream,
then at other times, I want to hold you-

Or at least know what it feels like
to be held.

Have you ever died a little?
I’d like to think you have-
because I’m daydreaming my eulogy-

God, how stupid this sounds.

And how you’d scold me for talking so much.

I can only dream you’d care-
dreaming’s all I have.

My frost-bitten heart,
the tears that won’t fall,
the lull of the moon,
the dreams…

And this is life-
at least the version of breathing
that I choke on
day and night, and night and day, and…