My Poetry Blog: A Mix of Genres and Poetry Styles
Lay me in the dust of death
A vague disconnect
From the blood on my hands
In the drowning discotheque
Music pounding in my head
To the beat of how things used to be
With our drunken songs
On dimly lit city streets
The sheets on my bed
Still carry your ash
Where I sleep
And have my fitful dreams
From which I keep waking
With tremors in my hands
And an unsteady breath
That escapes my lungs
And leaves me here
Laying myself down in the dust of death
Echoes of a damaged soul
She’s sitting on the bed,
Singing her song.
I just can’t help it,
But my heart moves along
And my feet find the beat.
I see your every breath,
Every strum of your fingers
Along the strings, but it’s not the guitar
That I hear, in my heart.
It’s your voice
Echoing in my soul,
As the intricate patterns unravel
And my thoughts travel, to past patterns –
Webs of anxiety, where I am wrapped
In love and soft promises,
That branded my mind –
Marked my heart and left me.
Anxiety
Attraction makes me anxious
Getting pulled in against my will
And I don’t really know how to feel
Is it real, is it real
Or is it the same old spiel
Where I fall for someone and I can’t believe
They would be into me or believe
Our heart beats, the string instruments
Of a living symphony
It’s no Flight of the Bumblebee
Or a composition by Debussy,
No, it is just one exciting anxiety
A funny thing
Two avoidants walk into a room.
Neither one speaks,
Neither one makes a move.
Instead, they embrace each other, and their nature, with feigned yawns,
Strategic stutters, and self-explanatory mutters.
Somehow, somewhat, in some way
One explains in a particular way,
What he wanted to say –
As if it was a birth of words,
With all its contractions,
Contradictions, and a sincere lack of diction and sounds.
At last, he got the words out,
Which is when it became her turn
To try to explain in some way –
A particularly elaborate way –
Far away from each other’s gaze,
What exactly she wanted to say.
Look at them, they’ve come such a long way.
I wonder what someone with a different perspective might say.
“Two avoidants walked into a room.
Neither one speaks.
Neither one leaves,
As they both have a crippling fear of abandonment.”
Us, the looking glass
Crystallise the love to keep it intact.
It’s a frightful transparancy,
To breathe life into a feeling
By giving it a voice,
In your presence.
We’re made of glass, the melted sands
Of all our past failures, victories,
Sins, and the lovers we have been.
Crystallise our love, my dear.
Our hearts are so clear in their desire,
As they burn and shake themselves apart
In an anticipation for past pessimism.
But, oh, the sands of the hourglass keep falling,
Day in, day out,
And I find myself in their midst,
Falling for you.
I want you to know
I kissed you in the snow,
And I didn’t want to go home
To an empty bed.
Hours earlier, we watched the sun set
As I told you stories,
While you rested your head on my chest.
I wonder if you could hear my heart beat,
Mere centimeters from your ear.
I wonder if you could hear it skip a beat
Whenever you laughed, squeezed my arm,
Or poked me in the side.
I wonder if you could hear my stomach
Digest the fact that there seems to be an increase in the amount of butterflies spotted, this week.
What a strange natural phenomenon –
To act on and subsequently reflect on,
Days later when
I kissed you in the snow,
Because I wanted you to know
That these feelings are real
And that this is the way that I feel.
I don’t want anything else,
Or someone new.
When we kissed,
You found me,
And I found you.
What a day it was
A killing breeze reigned
Across frozen waters and lakes
A high moon in a cancer ridden sky
The sun hid in dark alcoves
Caves and the wanderers of the wastelands
Covered in coveted lies
Truths and unknown impossibilities
The septum of irreverence
The eye in the midst of it all
An omnipotent god of nothing
An impotent snail in a water trough
Climbing up the sides
A trail of desolation
Smoke in the hives and honey
Stolen by kings and queens
Sweet ignorance where art thou
Awareness kills the element of surprise
Joy escapes the violence
A butterfly in a wartorn hellscape
The end of it all
As sleep succumbs to existence
I think you’re avoiding my eyes.
It’s only been a few months since I was by your side, that night,
Sitting on your bedside table
With an arm around your waist,
When you decided to kiss my face.
Our lips met, time after time,
And our tongues intertwined
In an unexpected chemistry –
Our biology: the way we’ve been made;
Our deepest selves, our atoms and cells
That we can’t escape.
But for a moment,
Where we find ourselves besides, inside, in sight of
What we want, but can’t have,
And no amount of trust will be enough –
To tell me that’s what it’s like to be loved.
Still, we tried and talked and laughed and fucked,
Because that’s all there was.
And that’s all that it was.
So I look back, to when we saw eye to eye, as close as can be,
And I think a piece of me was at peace
Being each other’s primary side piece,
Just for a night.
What I’m trying to say is,
It’s fine if you want to say goodbye.
But please, at least look me in the eye.
Miss me with the news,
I’ll go watch Blues Clues
To hear the true truth.
The true proof presented by a dog
That looks at me through a screen,
And says in an ominous voice,
“God is the machine, but he ain’t no Rolls-Royce”
So I ask him, “What the hell does that mean?”
To which he says, “haven’t you seen? It’s an obvious choice,
If you gotta choose between heaven and a Rolls-Royce.”
This dog is talking about cars,
Meanwhile I’m tryna stay out of bars,
With my head in some loud clouds.
So high up it may even be on Mars,
But man these feelings I’m feeling
Are staying sticky like Mars bars filling.
I’m trying to be chilling on the couch,
But words keep spewing out my mouth,
Out and down south for the winter
‘cuz the words hurt, birds chirp,
Getting beat around like yoghurt,
I be feeling like this one guy, Kurt?
Cobain is the name, got his face on a shirt,
And a gun ain’t to blame, I just have a lil’ flirt
With death, when I’m upset,
Get obsessed with the thought,
Thinking bout the things my gods taught
That I thought were right,
But those are all my thoughts for now
So goodnight.
It’s a small, silly crush.
But it starts with one crack in the ice,
That spreads and tears in half
A continent of truth and lies:
The heart that I’m trying to keep mine.
But why bother trying when trying is inauthentic?
Feelings aren’t meant to be pragmatic, or rationalised out of existence.
It’s no big deal, but it’s just new to me.
Because normally, hopelessness would accompany attraction.
But now I’m feeling like I’m living the what ifs I may have missed
In the past.
The what ifs that disappeared
When we kissed.
I was on my way to school,
But here I am, thinking of 2am,
When it was just me and you.
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The benches, the seats –
The sense of despair,
Evokes the terminal
Waiting at the final gate.
Surrounded by hosts, hostesses,
Gods and goddesses, and covered
In sin, bandages and every other thing they have gathered –
The memories of the places they have been.
They wait on wooden benches,
Unsure of their departing time.
They may only hope for a delay
In their fatal flight, but the ghosts working the air traffic control
Already have them in their hold –
Unwilling, to let go.
The shovels beat the sun,
And the enemy falls upon us
To try and bury us six feet under.
For King and country we find ourselves
In the mines of Golgotha,
Digging up false prophets
And prophecies of end times –
Scrolls and revelations from a god
That has left us in the mud.
The colour of our cap only matters
To those that wish to beat us
To the holy grail that’s as sought after
As an act of revenge against the man
That would betray the saviour with a kiss
Of love, death, and deceit.
But here we lie, here we lay,
Six feet under with the dead,
All to keep the dead at bay.
Inspired by a line from Peaky Blinders
I’ve still got the scar you gave me last week.
Perhaps it wasn’t our intended intensity
When we broke our friendly sanctity,
But I do look back on it, fondly.
I thought that after we left our marks
On each other’s bodies, and lost our minds
In each other’s glory that I wouldn’t have to worry
Or care about a thing.
Honestly, I wanted to reach out two days later
To you – my new addiction, my hyper focus
For my brain that has longed for a fix
For so long, but I know that love, sex or a kiss
Won’t mend what’s been broken.
It’s now been a couple of days since we’ve last spoken,
And even though my door is wide open
I may not always be home.
With your mark on my shoulder
I wander alone between the trees in the park
And I wonder if you also still carry a piece of me,
Or if I should simply let you be.
I am rather happy, however, to notice
I’m at least at peace, finally.
That doesn’t mean that I want you to leave –
Believe me, I would love to see you again
And pretend for one more night
That it’s just you and me.
I know you didn’t mean to leave me the way you did.
I believe you,
Even though it seems so strange
To believe anything you say,
As your voice still remains silent in your grave.
JD Poetry 