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Ferment in the waiting room of life.
The catacombs of the mind are empty.
From the grave they will not rise.
The life you once knew is now fleeted.
You're out of time.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale again.
False memory is not gospel.
Queue the piano, and bring in some coffee to go.
Crack a smile.
Adjust your tie.
Goodbye.
The heaviest sound lays us to rest
Tied to the steak and eats our heart out
Composure fixed to the evening sky
Swivel the scenery then throw me away when I am colored dead
Let's all pose then fall down the well together
Understudies for the part we weren't meant to play
Courage for cowards in the rewriter's chair beating the around the rose bush
Sink thirty thousand feet into the shoes too narrow for human feats.
Back to factory settings until you can learn how to sing let alone speak our names
Caution tape leashes the struggle bus in gear on your best days
One step further than slipping up on a Monday, blue and battered
I wake up to the sight of the out of boundaries shred to pieces
Water for the pills stuck in swallowing fashion
Wings tied to the bed abstract as ever
We dreamt of the rise and fall of the house of us
Blueprints of further disappointment with marble inlays to hold onto this moment
Shock jocks of jealous siblings gnashing at ankles going home
Nostalgic for chaos and that bitter root
I didn't know that I was this obvious
Innocence donated with and without the will to live
Lover, Lover
The nighttime sings our names
Ballads of the figurative Juliet
Radios hiss hearts spilled the shadows hide naked ambition stilled
Neglected emotional hills wafts through valleys of past lives
Karmic backlogs review their closing percentages
Futures flood the floors hold the line between fate and tears
Shadow people alone in the twilight
Illuminated letters, walls woed to sleep
Dreams from the shoreline as phantom vessels waltz on the silver linings
Postures of stable footing, top of the line, kings and queens of value
Thumbs circle the knuckles, bone kisses bone, the familiar taste of home
Haunted hems lines explored in tribal pursuits
Please keep me waiting
The specter of tender frames evaporates
Morning ghosts caress the memory in travel
Neckties versus deadlines
Power brokered, breath that betrays the dream
Folded napkins
Cocktail napkin epitaphs
Check please
There lied something amongst the burned ashes
A heart so pure
Everyone gasped, how could the heart survive?
The witch was the one to die
Yet the heart unknowingly, unapologetically
Stayed unmoved
In the cold weather, where everyone trembled
The heart shined with the glimpse of sunshine
Through the darkened clouds
The hope resided
Tangled in knots of hatred for who she was
A witch, A bastard
And as they say, "The evil surely will burn"
The heart, the purity
Chose not to burn
the bystander dutifully reading obediently
at a casement with sidearm
is competitively assuming
that our souari acreage hijacking
haliotis ostreidae alismatidae
mucilaginous lithographic osmundaceae
through ceratodontidae
in an airless helwingia
cascade from her exacum cardiographic heap
as your jeweled cuckoo awakened
into this fiendish confrontation
by enlivened catharsis
lacerate fission will scatter
you let me snuggle ?
we were restorative
but siegfried and I unite
never unturned .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
Drip drop pitter patter,
Not even a storm can hide the sound of blood splatter,
Down her leg the drops glide,
Like the moon chasing after the evening tide,
Flooding freely without a care,
Out it sneaks from the dragon's lair.
Precious stream with a story to tell,
Promising heaven, delivering hell,
Bathe in moonlight,
Dance in the woods,
Smear this red on your riding hood.
Bloody countess, Sanguine sensation,
Blessed crimson revive my vocation,
I invoke your messiness to hearken my rebirth,
I am now the drop that falls to the earth.
The tree in my backyard has been watching me since I was three.
As time passed, its gaze has never set me free.
In the light, it gives a shadow;
in the dark, it hides the light.
This tree makes my life just not right.
Like the other night, it knocked on my window, gave me a fright.
This damn tree is trying to take my life;
I know it looks at me like a killer with a knife.
So with an axe, I hacked it to the ground,
And joyfully, wildly, I danced around.
The second hand on the clock mercilessly drones on.
Surrealistic seconds spin dizzyingly.
Distorted colours of sagging sunrises melt into intoxicated sunsets.
Vapours of innocence dissipate into laughing
stars,
hysterically hyperventilating on sorrow’s torment.
The stinging dirt beneath my feet offers no condolences,
only festering deeper into subcutaneous wounds,
infecting every white blood cell until delirium overrides.
Shame and regret drip from screaming clouds
as a murder of crows gathers in the dank ambience,
criticisingly cawing between razor-thin lapses in time.
Frenzied winds obscure judgement.
Vines of poison ivy tangle,
dragging me down in the pandemonium,
whilst a growling ground begins to open,
exposing the truth—my festering grave.
Feel the accelerating pain of memories taking hold.
Already dead, drugged by denial,
a soul bound to a faded reality,
vanished within the cracks hidden
within the confines of time.
In a pristine white room
Stands a smiling youth—
His eyes as clear as an ancient well,
His hair as smooth as a spider’s web,
And his flesh soft as granite.
What majestic being!
This...
An unholy vessel,
Whose praises should we sing?
A piece of art—
Capable of completing itself,
Growing and unfolding beyond the maker’s hands,
Then shattering,
Returning to its most primordial state.
As if the world had been flipped,
Then a mirror was placed
Facing the ground.
A disturbing presence
Proclaimed a child.
Joy over fear
Joy beyond tears
Tears of emancipation
Tears because of altercations
Altercations because of pride
Altercations because of confusion
Confusion about what’s real
Confusion about what’s fake
Fake news
Fake friends
Friends to die for
Friends to forgive
Forgive the bad thoughts
Forgive our understanding
Understanding that we can change
Understanding that fate won’t change
Change comes with a fight
Change hurts
Hurts to be different
Hurts to stay the same
Same routine
Same mistakes
Mistakes challenge the brain
Mistakes are forgiven
Forgiven trespasses
Forgiven truth
Truth is that we are trapped
Truth is that we are free
Free of decisions
Free to fight
Fight for freedom
Fight for control
Control the city
Control the world
World domination
World war
War on the minds
War on the soul
Soul seeking grace
Soul on fire
Fire on earth
Fire that burns forever
Forever in tranquility
Forever we fall
Fall into turmoil
Fall into oblivion
Oblivion full of control
Oblivion full of darkness
Darkness
Control
Death,
Come not in haste!
For You are monstrous Mighty;
For your hand were deep, Long over our innocent hearts!
Death,
All your paths
Shall breed mournings!
Upon man’s endeavors in the sun, Above their presence;
Mission and vision.
Death is a great ocean!
A vagabond of despond
With nowhere left to belong
He wandered beneath the sun above
Still searching for a tender soul to love
For so long, he flew from place to place
Hoping to find a heart that would embrace
The fragile soul he carried within
The wounded heart beneath his skin
But rejected and neglected time after time
He slowly lost his reason to fly
He slept through the warmth of the daytime
And lay beneath the stars at nighttime
Alone with his sorrow, hidden in the shadow
He thought that he was better off alone
The dove that once searched for someone to love
Slowly grew darker beneath the moon above
Down below, he became cold as snow
The once soft dove, now a terrifying crow
The only thing he could do was bow
And pray to God to free him from his woe
Genie, old genie, grant me a wish.
I wish life would get better than this.
For a fortune in happiness,
A lifetime of bliss.
Any life would be better than this.
Dust collecting on the bottle,
My wish so simple, so pure.
Surely it wouldn’t leave me craving more.
Shackles of life,
Ruins in shambles.
You and I are the same—
I, the bottle.
You, the dust.
Trapped.
The feeling of hopelessness and despair,
Trapped by memories
I can no longer outrun.
The loneliness settled like dust,
Covering the dream that once was.
Please grant my wish,
For it is not a long list.
I waited for magic,
I waited for change.
But the dust kept falling,
And the bottle stayed the same.
Season of death
Told to fear
Before bitter cold
Making everyone scream
For some warmth
And loving touch
Stay in touch
After the death
With some warmth
And no fear
Morbid many scream
Awaiting the cold
Decide embrace cold
With forceful touch
Hear the scream
Proclaiming the death
Eyes express fear
Needing some warmth
Getting the warmth
Fighting the cold
And the fear
With caring touch
Defeating ugly death
That creates a scream
Why a scream?
All filled warmth
Body shell death
Purple silver cold
Ghosts need touch
Soothe the Fear
Dispense the fear
Memories laughing scream
Everyone seems touch
Words igniting warmth
Melting the cold
Celebrating the death
Conquering fear death
Instead scream warmth
When touch cold
A winding, desolate road stands before me,
Covered in white ashy soot.
As nuclear winter stagnates,
Grey corpse clouds spill a thousand secrets,
While asphyxiating dust cakes a boarded-up shack in the faint distance.
Loneliness settles into obsolete bones.
I've been searching for what feels like eons now,
For any semblance of humanity.
Scarcity of food looms with each passing second,
For even the few remaining animals have become paper-thin,
Their skeletons protruding through stretched flesh.
A bitter cold silently encompasses the atmosphere.
Summer evaporated that fateful day,
Never to come again.
Continuing my treacherous trek,
I come upon the frost-tipped shack.
Peering through the gaps of a door half blown away by the aftershocks,
Hope dies, as once again, emptiness is all I find.
My eyes well with tears, only to be interrupted by an uncontrollable cough.
Spitting blood into my hand, the symptoms are getting worse.
Residual radiation is taking its toll.
Death's warm embrace will be welcomed.
But until that fateful day, I continue this journey alone,
Perpetually seeking any voice to ring out in a macabre, self-fulfilling apocalypse.
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