Best Imploding Poems
IMPLODING REALITY
Silent scream
wildly flapping of wings unseen
around this crying head
where eyes are no more
and mouth a wide silence
where ears hear only madness
while mind is anywhere but sane
Violence throws me out of bed
every night on legs that collapse
forgotten they don't work
lugging, tug drag into
that corner
they fly around
cursing me
lashing out
insane
insane
Eyes unsee, ears unhear, mouth unscream
imploding reality
If I am insane
Why can I describe this
so vividly?
***
January 3, 2017
Night awakens in the chaos of infernos imploding beneath the darkened sky,
It stretches, casting its tangled locks over the deep silences,
Shedding the seraphic blankets of the winter moon, golden and silent,
And dances barefoot on the icy floors that crackle beneath its steps.
It stumbles over the remnants of dawn, torn like shattered thoughts,
Like shards of sharp hail scratching windows emptied of meaning,
The night trembles under hungry fangs that shake the bells of eternity,
As gusts of darkness devour forgotten lullabies.
It chews on torn dreams, running through loops of unfulfilled obsession,
Night gathers in storms of dead-end roads, full of fixations,
Where grotesque graffiti covers the walls of despair masked by tornadoes,
Storms of mania that seem like solutions in the unknown labyrinth of the mind.
Whispers of wind born from worms of thought step before the sky,
Cutting the divine heart with blades of storms infected by darkness,
While the blood of angels stains the wings of doves that lose their flight,
Anxiety spills in torrents as the litanies of hours break into noise.
The wild night roams through the core of darkness, gripped by tornadoes,
Eagerly awaiting the first glimmer of light of a new rebirth.
When all is said and done
the dust begins to settle
and all the pieces standing
are forced back into mellow
The melancholic return
in oblivious absense
monotony abounds
and still nothing happens
A fercent felt desire
a yearning for some depth
Unsheathing of mine eyes
reveals there's nothing left
Inconsistent surging swells
of pent up cooperation
man made soul a super nova
an imploding decimation
As I lie here, 'mongst these empty teardrops
Of causality
I fear that fate draws ever near
In this reality
But in this sunset
In this dawn
The hope of all regret is past
In this ash we sculpt as song
We think something must finally last
How can we profess to see
The ways we lose our sight
We, the wanderers, the free
Who think that in the night betwixt beginning and its end
Is all temporal reverberation wending its way
In, of, and by a fray of darkness
Choose between true choice and fate
For either way, your choice is fake
Blind lead blind; when sightless see
Reality's to blame for seeking more than what it hopes to be
Why can't I seem to see these days
When darkness spans the way between myself and something else I can't quite be
I'll stay
Where hope envelops all I am
Potential fills all hollow men
And sand falls down between small shapes of glass
Time passes by
And life is no more a becoming
Dust to dust
And ash to ash
But an overcoming
Star to star
As they fall
Countless
Farther
Down
From endless skies
Watching with a glass of water in case the clouds
are thirsty
when they stop
The wild night awakens from the dream of an imploding inferno,
Stretching lazily, with tangled strands like waves of darkness,
Tossing aside the serene blankets of the full golden winter moon,
To dance barefoot on frozen floors, like a lost silhouette.
Stumbling over morning's remnants, where thoughts like shards,
Crumpled and cold, cling to naked windows, dressed in bareness,
Shivering, the night listens as hungry fangs jangle bells,
While gusts of darkness ravage the cradles of forgotten dreams.
Gnawing the jaws of desolate dreamscapes, thoughts rush in,
Through obsessive loops of the mind, amid inescapable storms,
Where night huddles, adorned with fixations and grotesque graffiti,
Despair masquerades as cyclones of deception, mania as solutions.
Whispers of wind, earworms, are born from the cold silence,
Intercepting the celestial voice, cutting painfully into the sky's heart,
While angels' blood stains the doves of their white flight,
Anxiety floods in torrential rains, as hours writhe in noise.
The wild night wanders through midnight, caught by hurried tornados,
Eagerly awaiting the first light of resurrection, a promised miracle,
A sunrise of lost tranquility, like a promise of peace and solace,
And light to pierce the darkness, like a dream of rediscovered hope.