Trails before me
The guiding light of all who look
The veiling dark betwixt each star
The crumbled rook
The waning breath of who we are
Or whom we mistook ourselves to be
In sleepless fantasy
Fades as voiceless memory
Gazes upon a faceless sea
Turning, we weep
As silent ends the dream.
Pierces, the waking
The heart stirs once more
Beating with fierce unknown fear
We stept once more thro' trouble's door
We make our way in lonely dreare
If happiness greets us,
We'll away from here,
But no eyes dare we cross, or meet
We watch the ground 'neath our feet
Lest it fall away on some nameless street
And we fall double lost
To the waves of defeat.
Stare up toward the star that blinds
Know that nothing in the null binds
That the rush of life
Are the flowers of the eye
Frail and intricate beautiful
But ultimately a lie
Dream bears more weight
Than you or I
And the hour is late,
I’m afraid.
Rumple Stein locked the
bedroom door and grinned,
his eyes reflecting the pale
moonlight outside.
"Beneath your very
mattresses lies the Shadow
Snatcher," he whispered,
pointing a crooked finger
downward.
"This skinny, faceless
monster stays awake forever,
hating the peaceful dreams
of sleeping girls and boys."
The children pulled their
blankets up to their noses,
freezing as the bedframes
creaked softly.
"He creeps out into the dark
because he desperately
wants to fall asleep like you."
A cold breeze swept through
the room, through all the
windows were tightly shut.
"Since he cannot rest, he
reaches up to steal your soul,
hoping its warmth brings him
sleep."
The youngest child
whimpered, realizing their
feet were hanging off the
edge of the mattress.
"If you close your eyes
tonight, he will snatch your
spirit right out of your chest."
Rumple Stein blew out the
lamp, laughing into the pitch
black, "Better stay awake forever!"
Why is it you hide?
Anonymous popster pride,
Neutral of game plus private shame
A flame eternal
None shall extinguish—
A fire reborn from ash
Who is Bez Boi?
A private prince
His hoodie of chintz
Lyrics; blends of cherry mince
Fans wishing for a glimpse of—
The Banksy of Reggaeton
I'm sorry,
I forgot my face and my voice.
Now I am faceless and voiceless,
and I don't remember the songs of my lost trees.
Believe me,
I know that this world has inspiring songs,
and that the sky has beautiful colors,
but what can I do
if all of our colors were stolen in broad daylight?
Faceless and deep, where sunlight cannot reach,
Can I just fade, beneath the ocean's sway?
Would my absence matter? A forgotten speech..
If I were to dissolve, and quietly slip away?
No one will mark my path, or note the change,
If my blurry edges, soften into haze—
The silent water whispers, rearrange,
And call me to its underwater maze
Sinking so far, I feared I'd lost my soul,
Becoming a shadow in the endless blue..
But looking back, I see I am still whole,
A unity that darkness can't subdue
This liquid realm, a space to disappear,
Yet find myself reflected, crystal clear
Humani mendacity
Foul water still and staining
A bowl full of silence
A firming maybe.? Assent?
No approbation.? No Dishonour
Validation yet; no walking out..'
Hard heads no holds; denied'
Kinship bloodless calls
Turn to denial? big up acedemia '
Life and death yes or no
Ignore and prance no tune needed
Vile in a vial, so share that sludge.!
When we communicate with another
Via verbal or written correspondence alone
We have no idea what that person looks like
So we form an image of our own
Sometimes that image is close
Other times completely incorrect
Always so interesting to see
If they look like we suspect
Hypothetically ,wouldn’t it be an intriguing experiment
To gather a group of faceless P.S poets we have connected to
Without speech or interaction
Ask each person to guess just…who is who?
I wonder if anyone would choose correctly
If there were similarities in what they had visualised
Or if they are polar opposites to our minds image
The way they look a complete and utter surprise!
Hands held deep within my mind
Wearing the pockets out this time
Pondering the ignorance held inside
In the everything of nothing I find
Wasted Time...Wasted Time...
Obsessively scratching that itch not there
Drawing blood from skin that's already red
Slight look of indifference paints I don't care
The first impression of the already dead
Wasted Life...Wasted Life...
Eyes cast down in a myopic trance
Feet push forward in a frantic pace
Already blew that one last chance
Please don't look upon my face
Wasted Time...Wasted Life...
Freedom lies behind the eyes
In a mind of conscious thoughts
Inquisitive minds will always find
The one thing that is sought
Letting go of the devil's cloak
To bare your own benevolence
Will always be the hardest thing
In a world filled with disobedience
To walk a path that is true at last
Is the path that's no longer known
Still we search and we search
For our own forgotten souls
Be forewarned of the devil's scorn
He will curse you with beautiful madness
Conscious thoughts are not what you got
As the delusions became boundless
The devil hides when death arrives
A fear of returning home
The angel in black who remained faceless
Looked at me and said it's time to go
R.K.H 10/08/21
Reeling onto the faceless canvases of encasing past. I wade in my senseless senesces of thoughts asking for death.
"Right here, if you deduce me to be."
"You are, but, having you accompanied, I don't need you anymore."
I said, looking right into reaper's eyes, stumbled with scarred neck and intricate breath with every uneasy tear of mine, saying it a million times,
"let me live."
Why do you mock and insult my words?
You don’t have to like my poetry; I
understand because I prefer Poe.
But shaming and ridiculing what I write is
not right.
When you’re by yourself (your conscious
and God) just you and your thoughts.
Do you feel tall by making others feel small?
Tell me, mocker, who bullied you?
Did you become a bully because you were
bullied too?
Have you forgot how it felt when it happened
to you?
Take a moment and remember and break
the cycle.
We can end the cycle of bullying one person
at a time.
Breaking the cycle is going to start with you
and me.
Before I end this poem, there’s one more thing
I to say, you’re forgiven Mr. or Ms. Bully.
Contest:Judged By A Jury Of
Your Peers
Sponsor: Mark Koplin
10/28/2020
Knowledge unknown
Reading blank pages
Transferring empty space
Unwilling to listen
Sounds becoming silent
Thought’s placed deep
Harmony now speechless
Separated by words
Now cold to the world
Shivering with fear
Lost words unspoken
Along and unheard
By words
Fear run
No principles
Never rock the boat
Pleasing, over loss of their soul
No self
Cinquain: Syllables 2,4,6,8,2
September 13, 2020
10:11am PST
Faceless reflection once fair as a flower
is all the eye can see
now ghostly hollow
we choked then swallowed
the darkness we can be
Daunted we are driven still
to find a defining face
forming familiarity’s found
to follow humanity’s trace
Through glassy eyes of tears like rain
our character lines have faded
Let our colors emerge
from our darkest hour
Let us not stay shaded!
Jeannie Cronin
August 31, 2020
Faceless killer.
Oh! China, how mighty is your population?
How mighty is your tribulation?
The world may fall today
If not thoroughly washed hands always
If not lemon, garlic, bitter cola and oranges become food today.
Oh faceless killer.
Where hath tho came forth from?
That our ancestors knows not
About your form.
Oh! faceless killer!
Where hath tho came forth from?
That our physicians and scientist
Knows little about your form?
Oh! Mighty China, so big is your stories?
And so mighty is your worries??
The world will not fall.
For we have seen the likes of Ebola
And yet above the ground we stand.
@Solo Man.
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