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Dalton Powell Poem
A dark fog rolls into the bay
At the time the child becomes a run away
Another vagabond for this world
He ran away
To leave behind everything he knows
Leaving his feelings in a broken home
And he is left out in the cold
With no body to hold
And fades away
Dark Angel
Take this broken soul away
And give him a home
Give him a home
Give him a home in hell to stay
Dark Angel
Claim this tortured soul tonight
And give him sanctuary
Sanctuary
Sanctuary
And the child now alone and helpless
His face is dirty and scarred for life
But he soldiers on, relying solely on his will
He jumps at shadows
And he hides his face from the light
As he tries to disappear
And he never shed a tear
Knowing by the day that you drew nearer
But still his mind stayed the same, his body warmed by the flames
Dark Angel
Take this hurting soul away
And give him a home
Give him a home
Give him a home in hell to stay
Dark Angel
Claim this tortured soul tonight
And give him sanctuary
Sanctuary
Sanctuary
And we stand tall
And our gaze never falters
On this mountain
We raise our flag in defiance
And now we cry
Dark Angel
Take this tortured soul away
And give him a home
Give him a home
Give him a home in hell to stay
Dark Angel
Claim this broken life tonight
And give him sanctuary
Sanctuary
Give him sanctuary from his life today
Now he can fall asleep
And leave it all behind
Sleeping in the falling rain
Melting away with the rain
Dark Angel
Will you take this life away?
Please give him sanctuary
Sanctuary
Give him sanctuary in the coming flames
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2009
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Dalton Powell Poem
What is a man, nay, what am I?
More than just the 350 lbs staring back at myself?
Am I nothing more than a collection of scars and wealth?
Recall, if you would, the line “I can see your soul in your eye”
So am I an eye? Then why even try?
Why attempt to lose the weight, get in better health;
Why talk to a soul, just live alone in stealth?
This seems a grand life for I.
But maybe I’m an eye, an observer
More than that, maybe I’m a catalyst, or a part-
I think I’m not a loner; I’m just scared of the fervor.
Here comes a truth, something closer to the heart
I want to be included in this life, even as just a server
Because serving in the day, is better than sitting in the dark.
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2013
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Dalton Powell Poem
I heard the words
That I feared
I want to lose touch
With reality
I’ve lost a chance
I’ve lost so much time
I need to lose touch
With reality
I’ve lost a friend
Never had a lover
Just pain and suffering
I dance with psychosis
And flirt with suicide
So I might
Finally rest in peace
I need a moment
To gather myself
Before I lose touch
With sanity
I’m lost in my mind
I’m trapped in transition
I need to lose touch
With sanity
I’ve lost a friend
Never had a lover
Just pain and suffering
I dance with psychosis
And flirt with suicide
So I might
Finally rest in peace
I’m so scared
That I’m alone
In this world
I’m so afraid
That I’ll die
By my self
I wish to hold you
Wish to tell you how I feel
Cause you won’t let me
Rest in peace
I’ve lost a friend
Never had a lover
Just pain and suffering
I dance with psychosis
And flirt with suicide
So I might
Finally rest in peace
I’ve lost a friend
Never had a lover
Just pain and suffering
I dance with psychosis
And flirt with suicide
So I might
Finally rest in peace
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2009
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Dalton Powell Poem
So I tried to laugh it off, told myself that it was fine
The blood stains on the ground help me feel alive
I look to you to end the nightmare with a happy dream
Before you made it, I fell to pieces, and I lost everything.
I don't know what hurts the most-
Knife in side or stone in throat,
All I know is that this room won't quit spinning.
I wake in blood
I wake in sweat
Is this my life?
Who's in my head?
I woke up bleeding
Tears from my eyes
I said I'm sorry
For using my life.
Wake me up blackness darkness.
Let me fester inside my mind.
Let this cancer grow to completion.
Put a choke-hold on the heart.
I can't lie that the knife went deep,
My pen cut deeper...
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2010
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Dalton Powell Poem
They wanna say that I feel dead inside;
I’m no more dead than that tree in the yard.
The one with no color, no sense of direction
The one left abandoned, the one by the road.
The one that kept growing, though nobody liked it –
The one that kept living, through all of the torture.
As weird as it sounds, I kind of admire it, that tree.
Every year, it falls down.
Nature kicks it, beats it, leaves it left for dead.
Every year its covered by the ashes of the past year,
And like the phoenix, rises every year for another beating.
I know I said I was like the tree, but I’m not.
That tree is strong, noble even.
Standing tall in the realm of undead, it’s a symbol,
A beacon that there is something beyond the darkness,
Beyond the barren, beyond the white…
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2011
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Dalton Powell Poem
I wish you would lie to me
Never again would I have to wonder;
Saying things so I doubt myself.
Another thought, another sleepless night-
Never again I swore to myself,
Every time, without fail, I fall back in.
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2010
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Dalton Powell Poem
I’m sitting in a dark, nothing but a T.V. on.
I’m watching horror movies, or am I watching paint dry.
I see people, I see faces, but I still can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.
A scream I hear, I chalk it up to the T.V.
A rat-tat-tat, on the door, only to see no one,
I’m not sure I even moved.
I’ve been sleep deprived for days, but today, on the most holy of holy days,
I cannot sleep.
Today is a day of celebration.
For once, the evil, the dark, the macabre, it’s celebrated.
My interest aren’t looked down on, they are praised.
I think to myself, maybe I should makes something, to commemorate
the occasion.
I step to the kitchen, pull out a knife, and begin carving the first thing in sight.
Tonight, it was a pig.
I think last year it was like a bumble-bee or something, I don’t know, it was making a lot of noise and I just wanted some peace.
Either way, after trimming the fat, I had to clean up a bit.
The phrase, bleeding like a stuck pig, totally true.
Blood got everywhere, this is gonna take so much bleach to clean.
So I shove it in the oven, mouth watering at the thought of the sandwich I’m gonna make when it comes out.
I knew animals fought,
But this one fought like it really didn’t wanna be dinner.
I just hit it with the pumpkin it carried.
A few hours pass, and the pig is done.
I trim off the hair, and then the skin.
I can’t stand the skin, so stretchy and not tasty.
It’s like eating elastic, or a shirt or something stupid like that.
Either way, I peel back the skin-and I indulge myself.
Normally I go for the entrails first, but tonight is special.
I go straight for the brains.
So tasty, with just a tinge or copper, or was it iron, I’m not sure
Either way, it was salty, and metallic, and delicious.
I only treat myself to this kind of meal on the special days of the year,
You know the days I’m talking about
Easter, July 4th, tonight
Those days, they are wonderful
So yeah, the screams were annoying, but they stopped now
All that I hear is some laughing, and my own noise
Tap-tap-tap-squish
Tap-tap-squish-tap
It felt divine.
Then it all ended, someone said my time was up.
That pig’s blood went everywhere
Everywhere. It was intense
After all of that, I’m back in front of the T.V.
I’m really not sure if it was a T.V. or a wall.
The first thing I remember other than that night,
Was asking the guards if I could watch Silence of the Lambs on Halloween.
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2012
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Dalton Powell Poem
What’s the point to argue
You and me, there’s nothing new
There’s nothing there, at least that I see
But you can tell me if I’m alone in that
If you will ever choose to speak.
Silence is deadly, more so than a misspoken phrase,
Not knowing is more painful that being wrong.
I know the answer is in your heart,
I could tell you if we fit, if you would speak.
I sit and wonder if it was just a joke,
If you fill yourself with denial about your words,
And clarity will come, if you choose to speak.
I tell myself I don’t care, but I can’t lie to myself about you,
Tell me, kiss me, hold me, do whatever you like, but please
Speak.
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2010
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Dalton Powell Poem
Destroying everything I’ve ever held dear,
And you more than anyone were hurt by the fire.
Rage allows clarity through delusion,
Kindred spirits will know peace of which I speak.
Night it seems will bring relief, or suffering, I’m not sure where that line is drawn anymore,
Ever again I have a good night;
Sleep will hopefully bring relief,
Sleep will bring the tears needed to douse the fire started of miscommunication.
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2010
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Dalton Powell Poem
I don’t know why I trick myself
Into believing in the good nature
Of the people that I choose to surround myself
With because I always seem to allure
Misery and her friend betrayal.
How simple is it for one to find a person
That will not, on short notice and without out warning or consent create a portrayal
Of my fears and regrets and use it to eclipse the sun.
So in darkness I sit and ponder
“Am I allowed happiness?”
Or am I meant to be the one to wander
Forever in search of kindness.
A kindred spirit may only in a black hole,
But I will find acceptance in hell, with my broken soul.
Copyright © Dalton Powell | Year Posted 2010
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