I almost hesitate
Now that I’m in this place
All the sick faces
Looking at me
I just want to run away
“Why are you putting yourself through this?”
I know I’ve been waiting for years
And I don’t want to go back
But I don’t really want to be here
I just want to leap straight
To the aftermath
With out all of these medicated plans
I’m tired from barely sleeping
Thinking about it
Wondering if I can make it through this
Feel like I’ve walked under another dark tunnel
And I can’t yet see the end
There are lights on the ceiling
But that all seems meaningless
They’re dully lit anyway
And the faces around me look like ghosts
Reminding me this is a place where souls come to go
Poetry
Storms
Do not quicken my haste
I am always much too soon
Or much too late
Always working against
The lick of the clock
Trying to be calm
In the eye of too many storms
Nightmare mirror
Arms burst through the bed
And pulled me under
I gasped for breath
As I came to a place
Where I didn’t wear this face
Just a toothless grin
That resembled no name
Juggling nightmares
Through the looking glass
I was a prisoner
A monstrous clown
A widower
A beast of silent horrors
Becoming a Munch painting
In the mirror
Ballad of Jesse & Calloway
This is inspired by a story I started writing but never finished, sadly I lost much of what I had written and I don’t have the energy to try and write it all up again. It wouldn’t have been the same anyway. But I decided I’d at least give the characters a bit of a stage, as I kind of just love this imagined horse!
Dust swirled just above the ground
As a man named Calloway
Galloped through the dusty, arid town
And as he did, all was silent
Doors did creek and eyes surely peeked
And trails of blood spoke of violence
And anyone who saw Jesse’s devils eyes
Were sure to be forever modified
For there were no horses like him
All black with mane of white
Looking through his crystal blues
As he dashed on by
Spraying dust under his hooves
No one forgets that unicorn among horses
Pearl Necklace
Tracing slurs between my lips
she takes me through hours of redemption
Dirty music for the deed
quivering, thrusting hips
ensuring each of our vessels
are justly pleased
from this divine intervention
Lipstick stains covered in sin
Silent, subtle secrets
Shared between sweat and skin
worming our way past cruelty
Forgetting the shadows that defy clarity
And here with sorrows kiss
Pearl necklaces are made for this
Delusion
Prompt
Breaking backs
Working rhythmically in sync
Blood curdled with pollution
blindly working to the brink
Noticing no intrusion
must put the wine on the table
for Holy Communion
to pray away the persecution
Gargoyles grin
Plucked from the gargoyles grin
My insanity pleas for a place at the inn
Doctors tried voyeurism
Into my mind
But they couldn’t hack the skeletons
I have behind my eyes
I found solace in that monstrosities grin
A sanctuary from the barbarian within
Skies goodnight kiss
Sharp men stand on street corners
Broadcasting wealth on their wrists
As begging musicians spit
The rhymes from their unfiltered lips
And footsteps of women
Milling about, shopping for a little strange
A little glitz
Something that just…Oddly fits
Because it’s better to look handsome and beautiful
Than out of your wits!
Unlike the starving street musicians
now lying horizontally in doorways
for the skies goodnight kiss.
Lions.
Boys minds grow
With wild exuberance
As their eyes lay their claim
On stretched out backs
The women they shall never tame
For men are the domesticated
Not the women with whom they mated
After all that time, he waited
He finds himself frustratingly sated
Though wild blood still runs
Pooled in his guns
Waiting till the trigger is pulled
And there lays a lion
Who shall not be culled.
Meticulously made
Meticulously made
Self-indulgence dressed in plaid
Smoking pipes on resting Sundays
With the sharpest eyes
Of our yesterday’s
Music swinging between
Jazz and classical
For a man’s mind should only
Consume the fantastical
Something one can twirl his moustache too
No drooping eyes
Even if they’ve been up all night
Every day one shall wear a sheen of delight
One shall not drive Cadillac’s or porches
One shall be chauffeured in a Rolls Royce
And be terribly gay with the chauffeur boys!
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 