I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death,
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade,
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me.
I count to three,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop,
But there's no going back now.
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost,
Lost and angry.
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
These are the confessions of an Anarchist,
stepped away from the light,
entered the shadows
of forbidden caverns,
the caves, tunnels
and catacombs of anarchy.
Here a constant, cold caress
a persistent inner rain
pooling alongside lonely thoughts.
Nothing would grow that deep underground,
not even fungus, nor lichen.
I survived on sheer will and dampness,
lungs mutated into gills,
eyes became accustomed
to this ever-present night.
A Mission lost in translation and transmission,
a rogue satellite orbiting
through thin air's mind-bending space,
cut-off from other agents of Anarchy.
I slithered along corridors of broken souls,
fed on regurgitated thoughts
and drowned dreams of cities burning down,
melting like hot candle wax.
How I wanted the cities above to burn!
To burn down into the ground
in waves of rolling thunder and lightning.
Not able to differentiate between night and day,
weeks gave birth to months
in a C-section of fleeting years.
Somehow I stumbled upon a side entrance,
felt warmth pushing in,
and my will shattered apart,
fusing back together into Plan B.
As I broke the surface,
light seared my tightly shut eyes,
breaching eyelids with ease.
The pain felt wonderful,
changing into a delirious exultation
and heated comfort,
thawing out frozen, stiff bones.
Rays of sunlight rippled across my skin,
evaporating the slimy, cavernous musk,
burning me on the outside,
cleansing me from the inside.
Eventually I was able to keep my sore eyes open
while they felt ready to sizzle and explode from sensory overload,
globules floating through my vision.
The first thing I clearly saw
was not close up magnified,
but the distant horizon enveloped in a halo
of lemon haze, arching between two mountain peaks.
skin buzzing from the sun's heat.
how sunlight changes the perspective of nightmares,
revealing reality's potential fibers,
balancing the darkness within,
bending the remaining droplets of lost hope
into a prismatic ribbon of brilliance and prayer,
always evading the deep-rooted catacombs below,
a place I will choose to forego,
only entering within memories,
until even these are burned away by sunlight,
until even these are cleansed by sunlight.
2013 Double-Rainbow Remix
December 18th/19th, 2013
(originally written April 12, 2011)
When I close my eyes I see your face
Shining beautiful like summer's grace
I see sweetness in the curve of your smile
Which lingers in my mind for a while
Yet in your eyes I see a lonely dove
Who yearns for man's honest love
Majority of your years you've had so much strife
Yet you still deserve a man in your life
So break the bonds and mould the pain
For there is still much more to gain
In the past, my country
cradled me within her womb,
but our roles reversed.
I held her in my arms,
felt her slip away.
I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
and pie-charts overseas.
They wrenched her from my arms,
took her from my loving arms
to poke, to prod and draw blood.
I prayed while watching attempts made
at her resuscitation,
as greedy hands held out pens,
prodding me to fill in the proper forms.
The world is on lithium,
the drug has defiled the last drop of clean water.
My country was on lithium,
for her, the vibrant colours turned into dull grays,
and in the end, her heart gave way
from having spent too many decades
trapped within a gilded cage.
She had an organ donor card -
her organs were sold off one-by-one
while she still clung onto life.
Her organs were removed,
replaced with waving flags
and roaring stadiums.
Men from every standing, race and creed,
groped Motherland's body
after causing her to bleed.
Many men had laid with her.
Oh, how they did.
At least some men showed decency,
graced her with meaningful caresses.
But they were far and few between -
between the rape, miscarriages and spoils.
Lithium is being slipped into my drink,
into my food, into the very air I breathe,
so daily I purge,
horrified by my country's overdose.
She looks decrepit, splayed out in the morgue,
a cardboard ticket hanging from a big toe
like an empty, whorish price tag.
I will have to give her a proper burial in my mind,
for they are going to have Mother embalmed,
encase her in a glass coffin,
and put her on display.
Our Mother passed away,
yet the land is here to stay.
I will walk across clear-cut ridges,
pass through neon-lit distractions
as a gypsy vagabond.
From now on, the territorial lines
mean nothing more to me than rules to follow.
The shell of this country remains,
Nationalism has turned empty-hollow.
I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
and pie-charts overseas.
I lost my country today,
held her in my arms,
watched her slip away,
felt her slip away.
April 30th, 2012
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Another layer of lavender scented lotion
Rubbed in vehement laughter
A quelling of sadness
Covered up in mascara insanity
Livid strokes of feathered paintbrushes
Hoping to see the big picture
She cried like oil paintings without a purpose.
A treasure hunter searching for rubbery remedies
Without heart’s sanctified atrium
To light the way
She bled from carnivorous pores
Bites against feeding palms
Struggling licks upon pacifier wounds
Stone’s lonely lyric
Thrown against fragile lighthouses
Beaming through unacceptable horizons
Investigation of deity’s hidden agenda,
She questions validation’s esophagus
Its vocal chords
Another squeeze from lavender bottle
Its exhales shedding infantile whisper
A bounced reality check
Declaring that it wasn’t a disease
That afflicted her bones
©Drake J. Eszes
A soul unites with a vessel. With no preconceived notion of what lies ahead.
A soul, upon arrival is molded by senses, by experiences, by emotions.
A soul is innately adept at navigating the treacherous and tumultuous upheaval
created by conscious thought.
For if not.........
A soul becomes lost
A lost soul acts within a vessel ,yet remains unattached, unaware, and unbalanced
A lost soul can not process its own feelings, its own reality, its own existence
A lost soul has no sense of direction, no sense of reason, no sense of purpose
It clings only to the will to press onward
For if not............
A soul becomes trapped
A trapped soul is bound to its vessel. One entity caged within another.
A trapped soul dwells in circles on that which enslaves it. Unwilling, unable
A trapped soul withers, and weakens, and wonders.............and near its end it hopes
And in this hope the shackles that bind need be unbreakable
For if not..................
A soul becomes free
A free soul is independent of its vessel.Unrestricted, unencumbered and in control
A free soul molds that which lies before it, reaching beyond comprehension.
A free soul has found itself. It does not gain understanding, it is understanding. It
does not seek purpose, it is purpose. I does not fear life, It is life.
For if not...........
A soul becomes irrelevant
Demons of faith,
A dweller lost in the perfect Odyssey.
Bricks of memories, barricade my way out.
Growing gray within the ageless centuries.
Steady rivers, at the pitch of one response.
Times out, by the heat, and beauty.
Tragedy is never a fear to announce.
The drug that takes to cure, the world,
~ lost in a torn humanity.
Harmless, results and tears
~ struck in every way, in the same day.
Sneaky thoughts up my sleeve.
I will leave, the envious of me, this you best believe,
There is no way in...
I found the perfect way out...
That get in my way..
Waking up in a dusty road.
Unleashing every load.
Today's a different day, still I wake up the same way.
But, today life is reversed.
I find myself with an endless thirst.
Tossing me into a 700 degree level,
I shine away from the path of the dust devil.
Swirling all around, forbidden to enter my bound.
Your pitch at me,
a fever I want no more.
Now I can see, the emptiness of the things inside of me.
Now I can feel, my soul reaching out to heal.
Breaking every cold sweat,
Shivers, pneumonia a life of regrets.
Withdrawals left behind.
Symptoms, showing the fever is gone.
Into my life*
Feel me,an emotion deep inside your heart,a wild white simple daisy,
reincarnated in a soft crimson rose,a scarlet heart of velvet petals,
birthed in embroided silk of mystique passion.A bacchus of wine
filled with perfumed aroma,filled with fragrant thoughts of you.
Feel me,as I come in your night,a soft gentle wind,through your window,
caressing your face,kissing your cheeks,breezin you in sweet dreams,
to a forest,by the lake,there we lie down,on a mattress of golden leaves.
Feel me,as we go for this ride on the open wings of love and fantasies.
Feel me close to you,as Iget lost in you and you get lost in me,
as you taste the nectar of my cherry red lips,as we kiss,a moist wet kiss.
Feel me, in the fresh liquid raindrops,cleansing your worries and troubles away,
as I pat your back,as we talk,as I listen and understand,as we walk, and giggle
in the park,on a wooden bench,under yesterday's fireflies'lanternes.
Feel me as we lie on the sand,gazing in each other's warm eyes,
cheered by the tamed silver waves,watching a universe of of stars,
hugging under the ebony black sky.Feel me,as I dip my brush in finest oils,
and paint a path of colored rainbows,a path where we can find each others arms.
a path where we can dream,where we can live and love,where we will never
be apart again.Feel me a candle burning in never ending flames of passion,
a lady,so deeply in love with you.Can you feel me?Can you Feel the touch of me?
Soft and tender a precious gift you were
never a day I missed to kiss your
dimpled cheeks , or hold your litlle hands
flowers, little buds that held a promise
of a gentle touch or warm embrace.
I know your face your crooked smile even your feeble cry
I knew you love of my life
but did not know your were here only for a time.
You knew me too I could see it in your eyes
sparkling gems that flashed when you saw my face.
Now you've gone to a place far away, to your home in the sky
from whence you came and stayed a little while.
Another angel I have now, this one I know so well
I'll always remember your smile, and dimpled cheeks
your busy hands and little feet.
My guardian angel you've come to be
one I was blessed to meet... to know.. to embrace ....to love...
now I know you came not to stay only to make my acquintance and I yours
My heart is sad for I miss you so my infant child
wish you had stayed awhile.
How I cried when you left and though my tears have now dried
I will always miss you though you stay by my side.
You are my special Angel the one I know best
the one I have held, loved and known, better than all the rest.
Just to let readers know. I have not lost a child. I simply wrote this poem for all
who may have lost such a precious one.
Yes the love you evoke
The heart you wove
Spirit you broke
Shadow am I
Go to the Witch of Endor
yes my love
one weepeth dust
wind blows cold
Feeling is lost
struggle to breathe
seas are tossed
Was I dead my lover?
yes I believe so
the shroud my cover
You arose from death
shined love on me
I am resurrected
was blind now I see...
Darkness Wraps My Pain
I was born to this flesh
A slayer in pain
No regret, no remorse
Gold and pleasure my gain
I never wanted love
Nor did I want joy
I found death a trip
Where I once was open
Now I hide in darkness
A slayer of souls
Seeker of agony on all
Ageless shadows grace
My tomb within hell's
Ripping dungeons that
Eat the screams of
Torn bodies and cut
Out hearts scattered on
The blood soaked floors
I was born a slayer
A slayer that delights
In agony wrapped in anguish
his, hers , yours
give me a choice I
05, 23 1980
note: This is from long ago.
A very dark time in my life.
Must have been wasted because
no ryhme.. lol
I'm falling, falling
falling so far
Yes I'm falling, falling
God help me I'm falling
Why am I falling
in love with you...
Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time
For it is a phenomenon she merely sees
She pours forth abundance for all that behold her
Even for those of us that scold her
And for naught she was cursed from the beginning
There she is—interminable Time at the fullest!
And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy
She rules over our hearts
Keeping stress in our spirits
Not once does she feel sorry for us
Nor is she indifferent of our failures
She begs not for gratefulness
And accepts who she is with joy!
How ample we would be if we
Like she—were free of trepidation
If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom
Filled with untainted approval
What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time
But ah, she is both heartless and kind
And though we hate her peculiar aura
Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds!
How stressfully beautiful Time is!
Like a wink of venerated bliss
She smiles and smiles
And our ironical faces feel like grime
Still she laughs in mirth
While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred
Wanting more and more of her
And positively hating her
We that cannot see her began to hate
For we are as visible and low as can be
And we acknowledge her merely to insult her
Though she takes no pang to the chest
For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs
That she simply returns to each sender
Hidden is our pride
But ever placed
Is our inscrutable mortality
And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates
Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate
Thus we regard her only as a concept
As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal
For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes
Think, eat, drink or feel
We use her—yes! Even abuse her
Not once will she complain
For her gift is everlastingness
This emptiness within surrounds the insides
Penetrating my sorrows, I see the light
A light so faded and sad…as if it knows my lamentation
This light dies to be seen, yet it is surrounded by shadows
The light has not a voice, nor eyes to cry
Yet it weeps in the strangest of times
If only that light could travel up and onto my tongue
Springing forth in articulate passion and delight
To all that happen to behold its philosophic brilliance
But it cannot speak to you
It cannot cry to you…
It cannot tell you that I am…
So deeply in love with everything you are
Your talents, your pursuits…I cherish
I hold your dreams in my heart
Not merely wishing for them all to come true
But willing to sacrifice all for your fulfillment
It melts at every smile
Every squeak of laughter
Each hesitant touch
I wish it could be…
How strange this light has made me!
So dim inside, yet shaking with infuriated quaking
It longs to take over my every being
And make sweet music with you
Trilling in its soft embraces
To fulfill you is to leave me writhing in containment
Yet your happiness weaves into the pain
And the light remains…yet it never rains
This light thrives to love you…shivering but alive
It sighs in silence, comforted by fruitless words
The light is afraid and cold
For the vessel it resides in centers all warmth on you
they say everything here is
somewhere in the middle of the road
where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors
and there is something we should dig our coated nails into;
the layers of regret and anger
that our mothers tell us to peel off
but the sun bakes us too hard and rancid
laying down on styrofoam mattresses
where someone pokes their thumbs through the plastic
watching nothing but empty bubbles reflecting
and life is faded, glossy pages of a magazine
with a worn bar stool with cigarette burns thrown in between
and we all carry this restless, tormented beauty
that gets up and leaves
as soon as they say
it will settle down
© Gry W Christensen
Believing in the reality of your love,
Followed you into passions’ burning
In search of the promised oasis of our
Where happiness, you said, so easily could
A mirage your love turned out to be
Under the sizzling sun of disillusion was
Sacred oaths taking,
Not to listen anymore
To heart’s fraudulent
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 MAY 2013
Falling, falling, falling
through the pitch black air.
My hand reaching out
for something that isn’t even there.
Now running, running, running
from the dark that seems to take
everything I love but leave everything I hate.
And slowly, slowly, slowly
I slowly start to die
because, to be honest, I have nothing left inside.
As I fall on my knees
the hollow ‘thud’ fills the air
But everyone around
Just stands there and stares
At the grand execution
of the outcast they call “The Witch”
As the hooded man
comes towards me with a switch
With the old, familiar sting
a tear surfaces in my eye
and as it slowly does continue
I slowly start to cry.
Then the figure pulls out his sword
and as, towards my head, he brings it down
I find myself crying
with His arms wrapped around
my violently quaking body
and then I silently did cry
“Why? What’s the point of it all? Oh, why?”
but then, very calmly, He does start to say
“Hey. Just look here. It’s gonna be okay.
You’ll never be alone as long as I’m right here.”
And then ‘it’ happened
The only thing I fear
I found myself alone, kneeling, clutching where he was
And I quickly grabbed the swinging sword
My eyes were closed because
I wanted them to feel
the pain that burned inside.
My head lifted up
to the unforgiving sky
and before the people could react
one of them screamed and then did shatter
and inside my brain
nothing really mattered.
The world around me broke
like the ballet mirrors
that I used to dance in front of
when I was young and had no fear.
Then I found myself
laying in my bed, alone
and inside I knew
that the fault was my own.
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
On my way to cine
A beggar blind happened,
Striking into his kinky bowl
A sparkling coin I tossed
His hands untidy felt, I felt,
Value of coin, glistening
His face , outcasting the dust
Thanks for the bread master..
His lips moved for...
Since then, I yearn for
Eyes with his sight...
I am still alone.
They really don’t know anything.
They say that they understand.
That it’s wonderful.
but then they pass on by
and don’t say a word.
They don’t include me
and if they do
they treat me like I’m not there.
Maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s just my paranoia
that was drilled into my mind since I was born.
Or my closed-up-self
that causes this problem
but I will never know.
For I cannot see my own mind
and how I work.
I can’t even tell
what I am anymore.
People say that I’m a homo sapien.
A human like everyone else.
But I know that I’m really a monstrum
despite what they say.
What children fear that’s under their bed at night.
What myths of lore tell bring nightmares, disease, and death.
Outcasted and banished.
Shunned and cursed.
Hunted and burned.
Didn’t they ever think
that we couldn’t enter holy ground
because we were afraid?
Because we thought that we wouldn’t be accepted?
I always feel that way, especially around others
making everywhere holy ground.
Mommy and Daddy didn't want me.
They knew I was a monster.
So they gave me away
to Mom and Dad
who locked me up to contain the beast
but only ended up unleashing it
in more fury than ever
and ended up
having me hate myself
for who I am
thinking I’m a burden,
which I am,
which I am.
So just leave me alone
so I can suffer in the silence
and in the shadows
until they swallow me up
and drown me for infinity.
Who is more righteous,
The pious man who watches in awe,
Or the faithless man saving those in the blaze?
Who is stronger,
The man who lifts a ton with one arm,
Or the mother of four on her own?
Who has lost more,
The man who has lost his money,
Or the man who has lost his love?
Who is weaker,
The man who can't fight back,
Or the man who won't fight for him?
Who Is more savage,
The man who doesn't know right from wrong,
Or the man who doesn't care?
Who is wiser,
The man who has the answers,
Or the man who asks the questions?
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Father it’s me again. It’s been too long between talks
Days, years: restless lost wasted years
Choices made based on greed, pride, arrogance and misbegotten dreams
It’s difficult at best to understand how You can still love me
The blessings continued throughout it all
I had Kristofferson on the stereo asking Why Me Lord
Now I know I just want to come home
One more shot at doing it right, conscience not materialistic ideals
Finding peace within myself, empathy for those who cannot.
The journey was a bit different than I imagined
Detours, lost highways, dead ends. Many roads. Wrong ones
More light at the end of the dirt roads
Than the ones paved in gold
Harder to reach your destination
But the accommodations were better in the end
One more thing I meant to say and never did
Thank You Father for the hard times
Thank You for the trials that helped strengthen me
At the time, I didn’t understand
Now I see. Tears can cleanse the soul
Only when they are real.
NOTE: I have placed this Poem as a Video Poem also on
[ This Poem is dedicated to Freedom of Expression
and Tibetan Dharma Guru Shri Dalai Lama to support
his struggle for the cause of Freedom of Expression ]
Take me away but I promise to sing a Song
Take me away from such a place,
Where feelings and emotions,
cannot be freely expressed.
Where new thoughts and ideas are crushed,
By the rod of power and corrupts.
Where mind do not get the opportunity to reveal,
its vast sea of beauty and varying colors.
Where love never flies freely in the sky,
while touching the unexplored lofty heights, and
wings of Poetry are nipped in the buds,
before they bloom and spread their smiles.
Where wind do not flow,
while touching the flowers and buds,
Where the butterflies do not have the freedom,
to show their varying moods and colors.
Where faiths have lost their grandeurs and glow, and
shrines are converted into suffocating barracks.
Where love has lost its magic of moving a heart,
to sing a song and dance on the call of its soul,
Where a vast sea of humans live,
without the freedom of expression.
Take me away from such a land and place,
Where people live in chains under iron curtains.
I promise I will come back to this land one day,
when the breeze will flow freely touching every heart,
When its people will have the freedom to fly on their wings,
I promise I will come back, to such a place one day,
When animals too would move without fear in their hearts, and
birds would be free to fly anywhere in the sky.
When the morning dew would greet the new rising Sun,
By glittering without fear, its silver and golden beams,
When flowers and buds would freely spread,
their alluring wings and fragrance in the air.
When the human mind would be free to explore and express,
its ideas and colors on the canvas of paper.
I promise I will come to such a land one day,
to Sing the song of joy and mirth.
Kanpur India 27th Aug. 2011
Cold and dark, the eyes of the depths
glaring at the stars above.
Few dare descend the steps
which reach down to oblivion’s cove.
Heavy, the desire for truth,
like the chains dragging my body further down
unto fate unknown.
Beyond recompense, lies the ruin
sunken to forbidden ground,
now home only to the strangest of creations
and catacomb to the drowned slaves of history.
Will all memories be as this one day?
Ghosts that haunt the corpses of humanity’s ambition?
Black are the bells that once chimed to announce omen.
Buried are the thoughts that walked my mind.
Broken are the tables where ideas once feasted.
Bound are the hopes, eaten by preying sharks of doubt.
Weighing down, the garments choke the breath of life.
There, where insanity was sane, beneath facade’s streams
lies truth, in the sea of forgotten dreams.
His bleeding heart
Was flustered from that torn parchment
In their leeching chapter
As if “friendship” was aggression’s bull
Running through crowded cemeteries
Under quartered, sapphire moon
He sipped pitied shots of century-old whiskey
With a dusty glass of pomegranate w(h)ine
“Why isn’t she coming back to me?”
“My heart will make empty declarations until her return!”
As he childishly latches onto recycled yesterdays
Praying for God to give him
White picket gate’s access code
Writing lavish, debt-ridden sonatas,
In whiplashed curiosity,
On why she chose to forget him
Unbeknownst to decrepit author
Return the favor
©Drake J. Eszes
You know how we sometimes analyze too much and forget to feel?
It’s okay to feel -
whether it be confusion
or you just want to cry -
even the strong ones like us get lost
we don't always say what we really need,
we hide behind the go between and supporter to everyone..
So tonight if you're lost
know that in your silence you can still
liaise with your Maker...
He sees beyond what we ever imagined
most importantly He gives us the peace
and guidance we sometimes seek in others...