connected by a net of misconception
venomous spider’s webs
spun a murky vapour
synapses raged and festered in a Self
frozen on autopilot with anger and regret
an endless loop of thoughts and feelings
simply refused to thaw and forgive
permafrost allowed no seasons
subglacial lakes slushed an underworld
of resentment in nervous fear and self-pity
irrevocably he had always been a hoarder
collector of trivia banality and serious gloom
icicled intransigence frostbitten mind
so much that hellfire appeared
to be a welcome proposition
he had ingested incorporated inhaled
so very much nonsensical rubbish
there hardly was a tiny space
for respite and inspired respiration
he nearly suffocated on himself
out he breathed out from his lungs
his spirit soul and desperation
and there was just a small fog of warmth
that graced his near expiring Self
a meltdown of considerable strength
mist of recovery and heat of the moment
that he promised himself to live
reside in the here and now
one day at a time
The cream esteem my winter coat,
a mink nearby agrees,
temptation wiles beyond the gloat,
a warming gentle breeze.
The juggernaut that Arctic blinds,
the absence of my food,
of barks and twigs and other finds,
the breath of Spring feels good.
Our ashen whites will prompt away,
to chestnut furriness,
we'll blend right in without delay,
Earth tones are more than less.
The thawing out of wintry days,
the freshness of the spring,
revealing plants and shoots neath rays,
the wealth this season brings.
The game afoot, who'd be the prey,
the predators are loose,
a field of grass now on display,
sweet green blades, flags of truce.
A mumbling heard neath weights of snow,
a pair of eyes are slushed,
two ears pop up to words of woe,
it's just a dream, I'm crushed!
at 8 11 a.m. I met destiny by surprise
shadows of grey clouds took over my sky
the sun sizzled out in the rain
puddles of dirty water splattered on my legs
shower water heated up until steam blinded me
I found particles of gravel from asphalt in the tub
a whirlpool gurgled the filthy water down the drain
the towel warmer had made my robe nice and toasty
yesterdays tomorrow, ended today
my brain slushed around in my head
rapid pulse, chilling sweat, I shivered
dizziness made me plop into a chair
I sniffled into a kleenex, avoiding eye contact
tears of guilt and shame wrestled for dominance
locked away where secrets go, safe from peering eyes
the screaming horde shoved their signs in my face
a murderer...me? I died that day, do you know why?
who he was? he pinned me down silencing me with a kiss
you're screaming and breathing now, proof you're alive
I did nothing wrong, I'm just collateral damage
ever hear of precautions, abstinence, condoms
he used the rhythm method, it didn't work
by your logic those choices are premeditated murder
I was victimized, he's in jail, I'm no bodies victim anymore
191 words 24 line 6 stanzas © 9 months ago, Sharon
Courage is the pivot between cowardice and recklessness
harmony for the brave soul as reward for stout-heartedness
I used to enjoy pints of Guiness with a few drams alongside
shared my sorrows with the bottle which never talked back
As realist and high society drinker my glass was never empty
not half full but always topped to the brim and quite far beyond
Slowly my soul drifted into its own drunken death and demise
gloom void agony and oblivion crushed by the crystal decanter
It was the bravest thing I ever did to admit my slushed defeat
and I slammed the tumbler on the slate floor near the fire place
The mark on the floor is still there but my own stains resolved
ten years ago I had the fortitude to resolve the demon of booze
Today I am addicted to life in sobriety and cherish new spirits
like love and compassion and drink Coke Zero on the rocks
I could have ended up as a vagrant licking vomit of my shoes
instead I found a miraculous journey and a home for emotions
08th August 2020
Oh, Lynn, my love, the end is lowly calling me
From wake to sleep, the ebbing of my life
Our summer's gone and all your flowers are lying
But I must go and leave you, loving wife
Come to me, when all your gardens thriving
Or when our land is slushed with fallen snow
Yes I'll be here, whenever you come driving
I'll wait for you, my love, a long time yet to go
And if you come, when all your plants are dying
And they are still, as still, I, so may be
If you will, simply, come to the place I'm lying
And plant, a little flower there for me
I will hear, though soft you dig above me
And all my dreams will only be of thee
If you will come and whisper, you really love me
I'll restfully sleep in peace, until you come to me
The Hearts burnt out
with dying falls and cold, bone chilling winters.
(Love is gone for the fall and winter)
Just me, I stay alone
who walks the slushed streets and I sleep in the dirt grimmed gutters.
The hearts burnt out, but still a hint of love lingers
in the cold evenings of the winter falls.
The cold December nights are always the loneliest time
for a man to live alone in the dirty gutters of the ghettos.
And as the loyalists come marching down the cobblestone streets,
every heart with turn and fear.
The ones that do not go far, shall parish in eternal hell.
For the hearts are burnt out,
like the lamplights on the night of Kristallnacht.
The Jews of Malta, create fornication
and the hearts of the prostitutes hide with bruses and broken blood vessels,
on their faces and hands,
and they will hurry away to the dark shadows of lone alleyways
with hearts skipping beats, and hearts slowly burning out.
Softly dressed in a black top to hinge
Brown chinos skirt and beige watch
Hair resplendent in curly full fringe
With cute accessories to match
Her voice rings out in a velvety tone
“Obim oh, am gonna love you”
Heart filled with sweetness so prone
Her food rests on a meal of fish
Fish prepared in diverse forms
Its sauce slushed with peppery dish
Mellowed by drinks, so fizzy they burn
In her anger, she struts with a raging heat
Her strides, pressured by a desire to excel
Like the wind, filled with the beat
Of many shoes and waiting to exhale
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