Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
The truth
in which
lies
are ever told,
how injustice
is
anything
but in bold.
How I wish
the watery
essence
from
a frying
pan,
could
stain my eyes,
How I dream,
there
was an undoing
of this child's first cries.
My mother's cradle,
only ever wished
in truth
to snap my neck,
like a wild man,
let loose to Geese
in numbers.
My back,
aches
in this slumber,
how I wish,
I could just
float like
the dust and
be absorbed
into non-existence.
My breath
was never here....
The hypocrisy
surrounding
cuddling of bears,
humanity spared
me affection.
Perhaps out of
devotion
so I would feel
even less
of a fish on a reel,
eye contact, I
can't let go off,
sympathizing
becoming...
clubbing of the seals
is our sad reality.
I refuse the peel,
to go further in depth.
I shake with anxiety at nights,
windows that do shake,
no hand, young or elderly
can comfort me here..
My eyes are darkened
when,
once they were beautiful green.
It was never my nature,
to be hateful,
I was the most loving child,
who grew survival
instincts
in how to be weary
in how beginnings
relate to the ends.
I should have died,
a long time before this....
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
sunset tries to set in her eyes,
since the day she slid
down the cracks
of the windowpane
scrambling,
legs
unable to
flip back up.
She can't
maneuver
around,
as concrete
little shards
have
penetrated the nerves
in her back.
She waits out
for the hope
of catching light
one last time,
a dream of
greenery
a hopeful
vision
hearing
birds
whistling....
Mouth dried up,
can't tilt
her head
to the side,
where the rain's
getting in.....
the brown leafs,
rustle on in
keeps her warm
from the howling
winds....
She dies from thirst,
after the thunderstorm,
when it became
first light...
sunset dies in her eyes,
her little left foot,
gives up the struggle.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
The weakening of limbs
I sink into my pillow
after 3 days of no sleep,
I feel weight-less
and what was on my
conscious and aching pain
turns into a fairytale dream.
The days of painting away
with my mates, keeping
a close eye for my boss's
vehicle approaching
as we take an extra
30 minutes for lunch break.
I'm back in School and there are
shooters in all the halls,
blood fills almost every
cemented cavity
as I flow away
like water
down the drain...
Evaporated
in time
while invading
Pennywise the clown
by simply closing my eyes...
The re-occurring nightmare
of a visit to the beach
to see one of mother's friends
when I was about ten.
The family dog, would
chase me into the dunes
and chew down on my back
and spill the blood from my neck.....
I had this dream about 12 times
and it was different but
would end the same.
The angels & demons spiraling
into my mind, constantly.
I can't let the bad ones out,
My mind feeds on running out of time
Once shiny was every new dime
and that sparkle in eyes not yet
exploited by those so darkened
I wish could ever so shine..
The wolves hunt with the lambs
under the protection of the rams
The pearls under such rare clams
found in rivers, oceans & dams...
You should watch yourself,
when you feel fear and distress
Its over before you are 12
with a sworn secret
and bleeding knees, torn dress.
Once beautiful with now needles
her only gentle high that cradles
bruises and black eyes
every-day events from clienteles
You can't hurt or kill
those of us who are
already dead.
I'll take the fall
from the holy sword...
Take a name and apply it,
its your name-tag
and please, we don't care
of your wonderful efforts...
You know you are no longer even here
when you'll rather surf rock bottom,
and no longer need to appease
the machine of capitalism
The sexualization of children
was the last draw,
and now we are entering Sodom
and Jesus will draw his sword.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
The token coin,
that's been
collecting
dust
since the
Jukebox died.
The ever fading
smiles,
from laughter
at genuine clowns.
The ashen burial sites
echoing today
still alive
in a child's eyes.
A return to innocence,
simpler, protective
days.
Will forever
have relevance
in eyes faded out.
If only we never
forget
how to breathe in
without
disappearing
like a black hat
magic trick.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
What a hymn,
you leave me,
as warmth
becomes the chills,
You leave me,
All of this was to die,
standardized,
a yellow flame
searing red
becomes blue.
Cold-ish ash,
fingers turn brittle,
crumbling to
blood- soaked
smokey cash.
Our fingers
corrupted
through
the
exchange of
history,
paper,
coins,
built on violence.
I fought
dragons
for treasures,
I did my best
to
tip toe
to the other side
of rainbows,
truth is,
the journey
is wealth
folded Cards,
scattered dice,
fingers pointed...
Alas,
the beauty of
grace,
the divine thoughts of
silk and lace,
bleeden
if inter-weavened,
bloody grips
who seeks the price....
Family,
scolded,
how the cold
inflicts sores
through
entirety
of winter.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
When they ask if you're okay,
of course, you say you're fine,
not even noticing
the liquid building
in your eyes.
You walk away
and wearily
with fatigue,
get on with it.
But, get on
what what?
If the band,
was
really
gonna have happened,
we need the one
with compassion,
and natural
glowing
in her eyes.
The polka dots & the popping
of plastic delights,
dares to dance with acid
in our flowing limbs,
the repetitive
of their morning walking
to their death,
while we exhilarate
with heath
and breath.
Do we really care,
if we're climbing
mountains
of their corporate
attire
and lack
of common sense?
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
The washed up of shores of the apple cores,
Magnetized child to her waist and cradle,
Teenage years amplify their fears,
he'll be washed up in a couple of years.
Eyes of angst, piled up beach banks,
Gators in the shallow & fear of gallows,
Pressing on the neck in a dream of sea-wrecks,
Popping of balloons near sinking Saloons.
Remember the day in which we'll run & play
Ignoring the truth of everything they'll say,
Hopping along to every child-hood song
& ignorance to a hot furnace's wrongs.
The floor being turning points of doors,
wood that follows ends up rotten hollow
The knife in the chest that proves so fatal,
the blowing of a child's delightful petals.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
Violin player's eyes are starry
beauty like the glitter,
The notes take to dark-ness
strong bones don't wither
deep sea's treasures
blue and color green
inside a pirate's eyes.
Don't confuse the seasons
to chills of the Winter-time,
undecided or believe lies
Not the warmth of Bret hen.
To forgive is to take
away your sole lake
and the ruminations
of this abandoned town,
This too is a sin of pride
and vulnerability
red toxins into splashes,
echoes are deathly sounds
Cracked smashed windows
like the dour of pavements
but the detail is amazing,
unlike a city of simplicity
drones in for a coffee,
but lets shrug off the rest.....
He picks up the instrument....
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
I'm sorry for all the hell you put up with,
as I was being dragged for "witch craft"
by those in-articulate one track puppets
doing their best to bury war-weary me.
We'll watch horror films on Shudder,
a distraction from the stomach cancer,
window closed & the shutters,
as I buried myself in your lap as I lapsed.
I wish you could see six day sober me,
still lingering on to your jumper's scent.
I sleep with it tucked to my chest
Your struggles I wish were mine all the least.
Your father doesn't mind, when I open
up your broken child-hood window,
cradle in your bed from the 90s
to finally fall to you this time...
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward Poem
Incarcerated desires,
worth kissing,
immaculately
Mary's darkened eyes
wrapped lassos of heat
statues tell the truth,
break the broth,
as your lust-ful eyes
spy her soft hands.....
Its best to be like me
and never leave the circle.
Red little cuts with virgin oil,
never create the hurdles.
I can't be shut down
when I never agreed
to the on switch
in the first place.
I don't like humanity.
I don't like being touched.
I wish I could be all alone
I'll walk the entire
way back home.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2026
|