Fortress

Who would dare to unveil

memories I cast into deepest corners of my mind?

Coiled up like tightly wound springs

hidden from prying eyes,

for fear of them bursting free.

 

I am a wild flowing river,

capable of flooding this great city of life-

 

I’d sooner drown silently in the swells of sorrow

than make islands of us all.

 

I keep a close watch on defending my rights,

hold a blind stare

through history I unwrite

in a fortress, I guard zealously

with violent pride, these wine-soaked days.

 

Sometimes I swipe the earth from beneath my feet

fall free, through thin air and

I dream of a soft pillow

that might catch me.

 

Though there’s no comfort inside of this fortress,

tears fall like rocks from my eyes,

the landslide of my pillow

fits the contours of my face, smothers me

seals me in my place like a sarcophagus.

 

How will you know my heart?

if not too tender to touch

pulsing the life through these veins

to stand guard, over all I love and all I cannot.

Reckoning

The day smothers me

with a kiss of empty of promise

the hours bleed out, from the dawn

sunlight shifts across the sky

casting shade on my sorrow

blinding my eyes so I cannot see

unready for the reckoning to come.

 

My stubborn heart

bends toward the day

seeking a fool’s reward

for seeing through

this list of disappointments

written in solitude.

 

I check the time

seconds tick by

I remain, motionless.

 

A storm rages in my heart

with each breath entering my lungs

a violent pulse moves me

toward the inevitability

of day folding into the earth

In her veil of black.

 

I am paralysed

when the hungry earth

wraps me in her blanket of thorns

cold sweat of the night terror remains

anxiety, rushes through my veins

day pierces the shade.

 

I stare into the light of the sun

unready for the reckoning,

to come.

Count on That

I was not the enemy,

yet I walked blindfold from the precipice

as darkest dreaming smothered me

I knew I couldn’t count on you.

 

Now, I wake from the blackout

to admit my foolishness to you

feel I owe you an apology

and a piece of my pain.

 

Sorry, never good enough

for your shell-shocked heart

and moral judgement

as foolish as I am

I knew I could count on that.

 

I was not the devil that tempted me

I was not the reflection that cracked me

I was not the darkness that took me

I was not the faith that left me.

 

Sorry, never good enough

for your blind anger

but I don’t blame you,

for you were not there,

I knew, I could count on that.

Footprints in the Frost

Soft sentiments, poetic

heart-warming verses

neatly written by innocent hands

on pristine pages of tidy notebooks

no torn pages, no crumpled paper

no dogeared corners, nor crossed out words

no bend or break in the spine of the book

with certainty, and self-assured peace of mind

soft sentiments, poetry

heart-warming verses

they belong to a character in a book

I’ll never write.

 

Because I’m starving for words

shivering and shaking at the back of my rented home

it’s winter at 4am

starlit in pinpricks of white

against a deep black sky

clear night

the silver moon in full bloom

thick frost glistening, crunching underfoot

a dog howls in a neighbouring yard

my breath wheezes smoke rings

that curl, drift, fade, soft into the cold air

Like ghosts.

 

 

I wonder why I’m out here

with you,

on a night like this where the currency of ink is all spent

and the soul shrinks back into the landscape

unseen.

 

I admit you caught me out

whispering at solitude

screaming silently

cursing shadows

caught me-

 

Leaving footprints in the frost

for you to follow

-before you dare lift your pen.