Posts Tagged ‘words’

Ravenous Reading (A Tear for Poetry)

Tuesday, February 26th, 2013

I always cry when I read poetry.
Oh, you must read very sad poems then.
No, I just forget to blink or maybe I am afraid-
In case a word slips away like a ship into the sunset
That can never be returned if lost at sea,
Or a love note burned so that it will never be seen.

You see poetry is elusive,
And we must keep a wary eye upon it at all times.
This watchful gaze cannot be pried from the page-
Just incase a word tries to escape,
Like a fox willing to bite off its foot for freedom
You see, I am diligent in my reading, like a hunter in wait.

My eyes water as they scan each new line,
Consuming each string of words
Like a wolf with a hunger that doesn’t die
Maw agape and body ready to be filled;
You see I have a mind that hungers
Like a wolf’s stomach that howls for more.

So those tears are not courted from sadness,
But ravenous hunger that twists my smile
Into a lip licking sneer of a grin
As the words on the page
Fill the spaces behind my retinas,
Like bones stuck in barred teeth.

Later they will come forth like a parade
Of parables to march before my mind;
This funeral procession of devoured words
Streams down my eyes like cold winter rain
After my eyes and mind have been full to the brim
And can hold them inside any more.

These tears roll down my cheeks like inevitably overflowing
Rain gutters, filled with words to heavy to remain confined
By the constrains of the brain I tried to devise;
So they drip from my eyes to the page again
These black inky puddles, the mistaken inkblots
Of a clumsy uncultured hand holding a calligraphy pen.

Taking from the stains of liquid reinvention,
This taint becomes the blood from which we begin again.
Dip the pen and scratch the etchings of new lines,
Stringing words along only to be re-devoured
By the next pair of ravenous eyes
Only to be written again by craving hands.

You see my eyes are burning again,
Starving for the page, striving for the game
The rumble of empty minds has shaken the foundation of me
These tears are not for the poetry, but the loss
Of who I used to be
Before the words on the page became all I could see.

Now the tears have blurred my vision,
And the poetry has become blindness to me
Now all the words escape and the cascade of poetry
From me has stained the page making an illegible craze;
My attempt at diligence has lost me the essence
Of the words I clung so desperately to.

Maybe I should read some sad poetry,
Have a good cry,
And cleanse the old from my body,
Not fear the final loss of words,
As the funeral procession proceeds without me
Maybe when I am left behind, I can finally begin.


Words Within

Monday, December 20th, 2010

Can you see me between the lines of this poem
Peaking out behind the imposing columns
Of the words that I have created
Yet which are slowly uncreating me.

Can you find me in the contours of every word
Molding my body to shape of the letters
That makes up my very essence, my very soul
They are my children that have one by one left me.

Can you search for me when I am lost in this forest of words
When they consume me and leave me for dead
Will you be there waiting to help pick up the ruin of who I have become
Or will I be left alone with the whispers of the words begging to be born.

Can you distinguish the person who I used to be
From the creature that the words have made into me
I am afraid of the darkness that hides within the words
Lurking in the shadows of every line I write. It is watching me.

Can you read the words imprinted on my heart
That left burning scores tattooed in my skin
As I tore the words from my body
And lay them down as a sacrifice to you.

Can you understand the agony I have suffered
From you merciless gods who pick at these words
That are pieces of my being and lay them to ruinous waste
Leaving me in tatters only to rise again to create.

Can you believe me when I say this is my purpose
This is the reason I live and breath
The words that I breathe life into
Breathe life back into me.


Time Again

Monday, October 4th, 2010

I will find the time for you again
Another time
When time has stretched out
Like that old black cat
Just laying
Always laying there
When time has come back
Like the birds to my feeder
When time comes back
It will leave again
Flowing back home
Then out again
Time has drifted by my window
Knocking quietly
But leaves as I crack open my window
I leave a note for her
A little song
That says
When you come back
Come back again
I will be waiting
Waiting for you my friend
I seal my window
With that little scrap of paper
Left on the outside
Fluttering dangerously in the breeze
But it never flies away
It is still waiting
For time
Time to come back again
To cross this side of the tracks
And face me again
Why did you leave
Are the words
Words that left holes
In frosted glass
Words whispered
In a desperate time
That won’t leave now
Even though their meaning has
The cat is still stretched out
The birds have left the feeder
The love note has blown away
And the window is shut
But where are you?

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Posted in Poetry |

Spider Web Stars

Friday, December 4th, 2009

There are hands in my mind
Reaching in and rummaging around
Throwing out what is unwanted
Digging deeper for treasure
Pulling out string
And throwing it up into the sky
Making a spider web
To hold up the stars
Suspended on the strings
Of my diseased mind
Pulling out words
Like building blocks
Lying them on the ground
All around you
Locking you in
Yet building you up
Just to knock you down
Filling me back up
Unraveling the web
Of the universe
Putting it neatly away
Back were it belongs
But it will never be the same
Because at one point
It existed as a whole
It was real for even the slightest
Of moments not just a thought
But a real tangible thing
Where you could reach out
And grasp onto the
The trail of stars
The spider web threads
Weaving in the cold night air
Each lone star lighting up
The dark night sky
Once it has a taste of reality
It becomes a hunger that never abides
Becoming a monster
Always wanting something more
But you can’t give it life
You can’t give when you have
Nothing left for your self
My head is empty
You took out all the words
All the thoughts
And left me nothing
But a darkness and sadness
That consumes my entity
All that is left
Is the string of a spider web
On which I weave the sky
You can’t fix me
I don’t want to be fixed
This is who I am
What I was meant to become
So I close my mouth
And lookup at that sky
Of spider web stars
Knowing within them
Lay the words
Slowly unraveling into
Something entirely new
That the world has never seen
The sky sags under its burden
Crying as its words fall forth
Falling to the worlds feet
Where we pick them up
And use them as we will
Taking something that never belonged to us
Abusing them and destroying them
With no regards to the spider webs
That held them up for so long
Held the words of power
The words of life and creation
My words

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Posted in Poetry |

Listeners (Work in Progress)

Wednesday, October 14th, 2009

Everyone comes to me
And I say tell me your sad song
You look upon me
With pleading eyes looking to be strong

They look for hope out of desperation
So tell me tell me
Why you cry so loud at night
Help me see

Each song is different
Filled with woe and pain
You fall down on your knees begging
Please release these chains

Some whisper some scream
Needing to rid themselves of their misery
To spill their taint
And give them some company

To share a burden
To pass on their shame
They need someone
To always remember their name

They come in flocks with trudging feet
Heavy souls to weak to weep
Seeking out a listener to her their cry
To help them fill in a hole they dug to deep

We listeners are burdened
Not with ourselves but others
We open our hearts for the people
Saying yes sir I’ll help you brother

We cannot deny those who seek help
No matter the tale or the stories told
We must wait and listen this is our curse
That we will suffer until we are past the years of old

We may look like children, or maybe the old
We are always different with the same design
It is our misfortune to be born
To forever listen to other’s crime

We must grow old in silence
Because it isn’t our place to talk
We are the ones who listen
we must travel this alone the long last walk

we cannot love another for we must suffer alone
we share our hearts with the world
we cannot claim it for ourselves
so our hearts wither never unfurled

Listeners never die because they cannot forget
Their message must never go unheard
When their time comes and they are to old to listen
And teach another the silent words

This is a part of s strange poem I wrote. I think I have an idea branching off of this for an actual story. I will continue to work on it. Tell me what you think….



Thursday, September 24th, 2009

Great streets of silence
Have filled the network of my life
In times of necessity
Silence overtakes my faint heart
Swallowing whole
The words so desperately
Floating up in bubbles
That quiver in their fragile state

Whenever words are needed
They have failed me
The power of that word
Falling swiftly, heavily
From an uncouth mouth
Can change the world
In a movement too fast
For the eye to register

The pregnant silence
Grows between you and I
Like a deep festering wound
Something that will
Leave a big nasty scar
For the whole world
To bear witness to
In horror and disgust

Like a canary in a cage
My words are sealed away
With a lock and key
Far too advanced
For such a petty thief as I
The mystery of this labyrinth
Is too complex for me
So I will suffer
In my silence alone

An ocean’s expanse
Stretches far and long
Above, between, and below
My feet that stand
On ground built only
From the promise of words
Yet to surface and be heard
In the deep eddies of the water

Truth is that words
Are a terror, a horror
All in themselves
Their own maze of nothing
Leading to nowhere
So silence is safety
From a world full of words
That I do just fine without

Where every word
Is a potential knife
Awaiting a new victim
A new heart to ruin
Rip open and bear forth
The fruit of an innocent
Of ignorance in truth
And within this deadly flower
Lies life’s only truth
We are all monsters

I think I am going to do a piece of art based off of this poem in my IB art class, it has potential…

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Posted in Poetry |