Tag Archives: free verse

Office Lights

Standard

City Street At Night Wallpaper Desktop Background by Stina Haglundh

 

In the dark of night, the city burned

Lamp haze illuminating out towards alleys and their mysterious corners,

Ordinary objects of notice depending on circumstance

Lining the drive forward one beacon after another

 

The car encapsulating our secret, you distant

Yellow windows arranged into faces peered down and I just kept thinking,

“how many of those poor lonely bastards are still caged in their towers?”

Whether intentionally or not

 

It was at this moment that my voice betrayed me

Completely consumed by the lit geometry of society

I didn’t feel your attention, didn’t hear your question

But there I was replying to something worth answering

“I hate it here.”

 

The last word trailing off into the hum of the car engine

Shadowy fingers of night reaching out and grabbing any response given,

I found myself silenced in the despair of confusion

Bewildered by my bizarre state-of-being

 

You kept driving to the center of everything

The weight of your hesitation creeping over the center console,

Isolating my thoughts to focus on sensing rather than seeing

As we always tend to do

 

Eyes glued to the graveled shoulder of pavement

Never daring to confirm if you were still in the car with me,

Knowing and questioning through the silence

Feeling insecure and lost in the absence

Thinking back, I’m not sure where I meant by ‘here’

The metropolis mirroring my favorites of experience,

Chicago, New York, Dublin, Miami

Visions design a conglomerate of what it is and what I’d like it to be

 

Claiming architect to discern the meaning, if any

Retelling the story as if there’s supposed to be an epiphany,

Over and over the memories tickle reasoning

As flashes of office lights dance behind my eyes

 

I am grateful for car rides ❤

Insert Title VI

Standard

CYMRU

Dylan Thomas as an observer
In the blue tree forest

Naked on the toilet
Drinking a bottle of beer
As the bubbles float to the top
of the fish aquarium

With thoughts of Cymru

In the lightest of considerations

Green fields and yellow leaves

 

 

Surrealistic Female

The lights reflect inside the shadow of thought
As I try to decipher the blinking of
on, off
A repetitive phrase I believe once spoken
But as it is now there’s no time for the forgotten
The monsters roam the sidewalks bearing
Their treasure in smiles
Darkness closing in on the veil as the dogs go
in,out
A smirk of content lingers from the one
As a questioning glance that masks certainty and love

 

 

Meeting Deadlines

Drop the needle on the floor

Oh god they will take me now

Too many sounds drifting through the silence

Too many unspoken feelings to hide them

Not requiring customization
No quotes of freedom
Puts an obstacle in the way of meeting deadlines

 

 

Disguising the Truth

The tunnel walls lay bare as an

Outline of the only way forward

When turning back isn’t an option

But leads to the current destination

Of one foot in front of the other

Is that laughter I hear?

The wind is always full of gossip

Assuming stories and spreading them out

Echoing louder through the confusion

Adding to it, disguising the truth

 

I am grateful for the dreamers ❤

Teeter-Totter

Standard

 

seesaw

http://i1.wp.com/www.mbird.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/seesaw.jpg

 

It’s your turn to rise higher on the teeter-totter

The momentum slows as the weight of mind gets heavier

up, down, up, down

We follow the motions accordingly

Pushing self harder off ground to claim the highest authority

Friends on the playground, enemies of the mind

Must be stronger! faster! smarter! to WIN this life

up, down, up, down

Puppets to one another as our fragile strings sway

Sneaking in and out of thought as the hanging tendrils fray

Assuming ownership of answers from our unasked questions

Admiring self to prove worth, especially when others show weakness

up, down, up, down

Your success doesn’t endanger the promises of my own

Your intelligence doesn’t discredit what I’ve learned

Your beauty doesn’t make me any less than myself

The hate builds with every created comparison we choose to accept

up, down, up, down

The balance shifts as we continue our impasse

Schoolkids fighting for domination of attention

Stopping to take notice when opinions of ridicule seem best

Using chance to display rank with each hasty judgement

up, down, up………………………………………..

 

I am grateful for some quiet alone time. ❤

Insert Title V

Standard

I can’t write for fear of a broken tongue, burning as a

Spiraling monster spilling out confused thoughts;

Ideas traveling from top of head to roof of mouth

 

Why speak when the noise is heavy, serving only as a

Constant reminder of fragile ears hearing rumors;

Weighted down truth from what is and what isn’t

 

Maybe blinded eyes see more than what we perceive of them

—————————————————

Where do you house your hate?

To be pulled out when needed

To lose mouth for virtue of wit

Or, what you choose to believe as such…

———————————————–

I slipped on the edge and fell

Down into the hole of hell

No one dares to look into the well

Claiming innocents of ourselves

—————————————————

To read is to acknowledge The Others, controlled as

Writers in waiting to avoid the contact with oily flesh;

Skin’s difference of one person vs the next

—————————————————-

Hate

I feel it beat

Break, burn, bleed

The heart is weak

 

Greed

It’s not me

I am healthy

How disgusting

 

Anger

Or is it despair?

I wander aimlessly

Deciphering the difference

 

Hope

Always constant

Perhaps a bit cynical

But it’s there

Monthly Archives: May 2013

Standard

Every Word

Posted on May 30, 2013 by MuseWriter

There is a light, an internal glowing sun
Radiating heat throughout the entirety of the world
A belief built up of mortared truths;
Or, thought provoking definitions of feelings expressed.
I believe, more than what’s real to view, of me,

of the unmistakable bonding of a mental language intertwined with faith.
To understand just enough to conceive that more leads to more
These unpredictable side roads that find themselves heavily traveled with those of

us searching for the back way home.
To battle and win against the timeless tickings of today, fight the hidden figure of patience

and submit to eternal prayer;
Or, the self-reflections that illuminate the beating heart, burrowing its tomb within.
Acknowledging all of the players willing to lessen the burden of carrying the weight of the

water pumping out of the ground
The sustenance flowing towards life, engaging in the act of unrealistic domination.
Even when we found ourselves underwater, we knew that we are never really alone
Enough hope offered to help keep afloat from drowning in the layers of theories and plans;

Connecting to sound and listening to every word.

The Last Chapter

Posted on May 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

Permanently stamping the bold letters that spell out “The End”

Realization, that you could wait until after the completion of the last chapter.

What will you do when you remember what it means to be a man, to be human, and feel the guilt resonating from the bottom of heel to each of your sweaty palms?

To allow yourself the freedom to hide your faces behind the random psalms,

organized attention and commitments of social importance,

So that no one can see the many personalities available for view and for purchase;

A kind of fake love offered to the highest bidder

To watch you climb up the social ladder,

Trying to soar higher than all of us who could never compare

As you scout the land for an Utopian spot with the greenest grass,

Examine every blade until you’re sure it’s better than all of the rest

All of the while anchoring yourself down to expectations that

Will haunt you in your sleep, in your dreams, memories that you’ll one day regret

Shutting down any ounce that’s left of acknowledgement,

Encouraging each step towards forgetting what it means to live, to love

To self-reflect and see in yourself that being square will always be enough.

Sitting here with a bucket of rocks, throwing out each memory like smooth rainbow colored skipping stones

Letting go of the only piece of yourself that you left me with,

The questioning, the wondering if you ever loved me at all.

 

Pitter-Patter

Posted on May 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

A pitter-patter knocks out from inside the wall
The creature patrolling the parameters of his forest
For the popular wayward travelers such as Rumpelstiltskin and Red Riding Hood;
Such an awful imagination for a mouse.

Who always comes out, to offer a friendly goodnight
All of the while, only hiding behind the smiles
Of a shady cheek, covered by the various shades of darkness;
bouncing off of the several different glances of the loner’s only possible companion.

As I lie awake, always as of late
I don’t sleep, instead I try to memorize the counting of the sheep, until those said sheep bah out their names and stories; my favorite,
About a little girl and her little lamb
A daughter, child Mary
The objection to the ultimate salvation, to analyze and find specific temptations, as if on a mission to create:
A tender lovingness of youthful compassion, without abandon.

To abandon dreams because I can’t sleep, another opportunity to remember what to think, how to think
Listening to the mouse scurry, as if illustrating his own version of the story
The vermin, or just a thoughtful eye
Perhaps a reincarnation of a true romantic?

Tea

Posted on May 19, 2013 by MuseWriter

A simple pleasure, one sip to drink
Smooth clay ridge fired to perfection, sensual on open lips
One cup, maybe seconds
Steaming, steeping, boiling.

He loves me, He loves me not

Posted on May 17, 2013 by MuseWriter

The beginning petal falls, floating and twirling down until finding its resting place
The first question asked in regretful contemplation and resentment
A hope based off of the encouragement of the task
Keeping hands busy to avoid any idle mischief; temptations that haunt, linger in the shadows, staring in through the window.

The second piece flies, is set loose from its home, tossed aside; familiarity is boring
The truth sets in, of course there is no love, no respect, only judgment and selfishness.
A stem of a flower, an anchor of each fragrant blade, so tall and mighty
Holding up the fragile pieces of color, or at least claiming ownership, never wondering what it means to give itself to the admiring passerby

But when the riddle consumed the last pretty petal, the stem found itself alone
Just another blade of grass lost in the field.

We Succeed

Posted on May 13, 2013 by MuseWriter

I imagined that it was how you would look

Like the heat’s effect on a summer’s pavement

Flashes of an iridescent glowing, painting color on air,

Nothing; complex and magical

Mystical, in the way that makes one believe

To spread an offering of a love so pure, so strong, we can feel its warmth

Enveloping body, covering flesh in the sticky grasping of a humid sweat

Layers of awareness of body and self

And the connection of heat, the wonders of touch

Letting fire consume, tantalizingly engulfing, until the flame burns blue

Only visible through squinted eye

Shielded to protect, to tempt, to restrict

To limit the overall portrait so that

Nothing could ever be said against, to distort the meaning and convince

The mind of action, of punishment?

Only the worse kind of enslavement to endure

But we suffer and we succeed.

PineTrees

Posted on May 12, 2013 by MuseWriter

I am Muse Writer

A temptress of pen to mystify the responses of language

To gauge the limits of what it means to be “human”

and to suffer with the mortal heart;

Such a fragile shell of life, love

Pumping light through veins to fuel the soul

As passion ignites and bursts in certain moments of an unresolved absence of control

Self-inflicted tears to carve the pathways down, from the escaping break of my eyes

To remember the roads traveled, to remember each journey’s lesson

To believe, past the rational mind of a creator’s image;

The mirrored reflection of humanity and how it is represented to the person staring

Like me, into the glassy pane of contemplation

Of imagining a self-image and trying to capture the picture

The Polaroid to determine that who I see is me

Sometimes, I catch a hint of shadow that convinces the eye to glance again, asking to be noticed, remembered

And I travel;

As a creature flying higher than the average liver; a messenger of the night

Soaring over the ocean, wispy tendrils of hair sporadically flowing into the water

Until the forgotten sea monster swallowed me whole;

Being sheltered in the belly of one of Moby Dick’s monster spawn

Accepting the revenge of the memories that plague the inside of the creature’s stomach walls

Until abandoning ship and being spit out into the lost city of Atlantis;

A paradise for lovers.

And why my gift to give is a random thought of awareness that breaks through the night;

That can be seen by starlight, bright flashing beacons of truth that bow down to me, and you

One precious life, a willing heart to guard an Angel, a voice of Heaven

To know a man who outshines the light of the rest, creates a hunger

A thirst for knowledge and a taste of your acceptance in resistance, your calculations and stories

Everything

Because of course, there could never be a writer without a muse,

I decided this under the swaying pine trees of our home.

Crooked Railroad

Posted on May 10, 2013 by MuseWriter

Words to saturate the soul, creep in until you can’t see anything else
Humming tugs of blurred vision, thoughts that interact with more than the glowing glances of the last few moments
Shattering phrases to tempt the mind, to suspend forward motion and bend it a little
A crooked railroad of emotions traveling from city to city,
Underground, out of sight, faster than the speed of light
Digging holes deeper, down into the soil, rooting its new home
The poison seeks, seeps up from beneath the grass
Suffocating those who stop to smell the closest flower

Decorative Cameras

Posted on May 4, 2013 by MuseWriter

photo

Decorative cameras, retinas

Detaching from the surreal pictures that are swimming

Into the gates of hell where everyone is thinking

Contemplating the freeze frame while in the yellow wallpaper waiting room of decision making

Patiently preparing for a visit with the devil himself, sitting in old blue chairs with wooden arms to rest upon

To lean an elbow, and awkwardly gaze, self-analyze, examine,

Reflect, amongst the other dreamers, seekers

Who live dying until the dream exists;

Until the imaginary is real, not just one of the Grimm fairy-tales

Nor, any of the wayside memories;

for children to cherish as significant life lessons

To give certain feelings reasoning, more emotions to embrace the mind

To flow in and out of the barriers and beg to see a little more

To explore, what we all inherently wish to see

Even those who sleep;

Even the engineers, the inventors;

The magicians of the objects of the world

Using resources to create anything at all;

Even them,

With their calculations and evaluations, judgments

To harmonize the thinkers of society

To escape the walls that lock us inside of the 3D boxes

Letting numbers and letters flow interchangeably, shedding light only to those with the deepest sense of living

To understand when a unity is worth sacrificing and developing;

To design the story of a new picture-show movie that,

Will play the entire book of our lives

Underground

Standard

Ignoring his creamy fingers soiled muddy

Palms pressing on earth as fragile limbs fist one by one

Modest wishes leave him tempted of lifting substance

His innocent curiosity alerted to grasp the gravity of power

Existence watches on in rebellious indifference as

Black dirt sifts through self and back onto ground

The overhead light bulb swings in motion of the day

A pendulum of awareness forced from underground

As a child of wonder is sheltered in the recesses of a broken World.

I am grateful for solidarity ❤

Robots

Standard
Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

we are all robots with our industrial legs and arms

emitting static data through chained sprocket mouths

chewing down on metal teeth while spitting out sparks;

tasteless words to condition into subjection

the accomplishment of production as day’s profit

obtaining satisfaction in facilitating the genocidal submission

with one’s own expiration date stamped axiomatically;

one by one we live, work, and die

I am grateful for the heavy hearts ❤