About Kristin Windsor's Poetry
I began writing song lyrics at age by age eleven. As high school began, writing poetry became my number one coping tool to battle depression & tolerate the abusive voices within my mind. I wrote hundreds if not thousands of poems & songs. (For my original music, please click here.)
At age sixteen, I published my first book of poetry, after publishing
several others in various anthologies. My book's description reads,
"Tales of spiritual struggle, everyday joys, & deep despair are
strung together with a unifying style of intensity in this collection
of poems. Five unique sections explore both the dark & uplifting
aspects of passion. Within the mystifying poetry, the author hides
bits & pieces of herself so that you may emerge from its pages
with a newfound understanding of a youth’s heart."
As high school progressed, my poetry became more playful & light-hearted. During college years, I attempted to branch out even further & challenge my poetic abilities of self-expression to create content with deeper meaning—poetry that provoked thought & introspection.
Wrote hundreds during early high school years to cope with major depression.
About Kingsley Kyler's Poetry
An alter within Kristin's system is Kingsley Kyler.
During ninth grade, Kingsley was the host of the dissociative identity, meaning that he was the one "fronting," the part of consciousness present in the body both experiencing & responding to external life/reality.
His primary methods of coping are still effective today, the second of the two primary methods being poetry & writing out his feelings & describing his emotional experiences in either an abstract manner or in a storyline others could relate to somehow.
During high school, Kingsley wrote hundreds if not thousands of poems, which I (Felicity) find truly incredible. He was completely dedicated to expressing his emotions without upsetting life in any capacity, which meant keeping his pain to himself while still finding a silent way to express it. During class in school & at our desk at home, he scribbled away in notebooks, on loose-leaf binder paper, on random scratch paper, & even on pairs of jeans & all over his body repeatedly.
His writings expressed a never-ending sorrow that was indescribably more painful than ordinary sadness, a heart so completely broken & shattered that it could never be mended, & loneliness that was worse than the hell described in the religious teachings of Christianity. Kingsley wrote about the haunting terrors of the voices within our head, screaming in pain. He wrote about the ever-darkening depression that was quite literally threatening his life. He let it all out.
But now, he doesn't know how to anymore. We've worked SO very hard to suppress all such darkness simply because it was necessary for survival.
Now, however, the tides have shifted, &, in order to get to where I need to be, I MUST allow those emotions to be addressed & expressed. I (Felicity) fear it deeply, & that holds Kingsley back.
Our goal for 2018 is to encourage Kingsley to express himself in healthy ways, especially poetry. Hopefully this will help reduce self-harm & other forms of depressive & even life-threatening episodes.
We thank you deeply for joining our crazy journey of healing, self-discovery, & personal growth.
Please enjoy a variety of poetry below. They are written from various times over the past ten years, some written by Felicity & some by Kingsley, with more to come, hopefully! :)
The Chase
You know you're drawing lines
when the circles disappear
and I'll know love when I feel it
which is always when you're near.
I just can't say the words
slipping off this tongue.
Love's just a lie, just for fun,
and we're all just too young.
It was only for a chase,
the thrill of the pursuit
just to see your open,
gabby mouths turn mute.
The accolades I won with you
through our mischief days
are what I hold dear to my heart
—now, forever and always.
It was all in my head,
a fairytale daydream
to think this all a
well-planned-Cupid-scheme.
You masked your heart
as I masked my intent
as we played the game
with no heartfelt lament
(though we acted like angels,
heaven-sent),
questioning what the word
Love really meant.
Daisy chains and boxcar trains
slip by
as the sun fades away,
and I still wonder why
you are never, ever near;
Why did you disappear?
Transformation
I'd like to be a tree when I grow up.
I'd like to be the sun, moon, & stars.
I'd like to be a part of nature
and it's majesty divine
without the pain of human life
and without eternity to worry of
and without the complications
of human mistakes and expectations,
errors and miscommunications,
emotions and deceitful expressions.
If I could withdraw from this human race
I would.
I'd rather be a creature crawling earth's dirt
in search of a nice place to curl up for the day,
for the night, for the life of an animal,
a soulless beast only breathing here for a short while.
My preference would be to have hooves
rather than fingers and toes,
rectangular pupils & multicolor eyes
rather than my blue ones,
and wings or fur or bristley skin
rather than my smooth white outer shell.
I wish to fly away, bound away,
tunnel my way to a new life.
I intend to transform myself into a creature of little meaning
in a desperate attempt to escape my humanity.
The Echo of Dripping Thoughts
A rambling of memories
riddled with emotion
creates a sound much like
a chaotic, great commotion.
Frightened are the feelers
who felt their way through death,
who barely clung tightly to
their fading, gasping breath.
Anger bubbles - burns & churns - ,
ignited by abandonments of past
pals & gals who freely handed out
pretty promises that did not last.
Fear of failure prevents recognition
but that does not stop the sound
that’s traveling from head to toe
to initiate a message so profound.
Dotted lines begin to connect
as multiple motors are ignited.
Juggled between sparks & thoughts,
letters dance about, so delighted.
Just as they secretly recited, a hint of words
form beneath the cracks of sanity to start
a parade, pretty little masquerade,
feet dancing to the beat of a heart.
A terrifying beginning grows towards
strength, power, & beauty.
Words flock together to speak their mind,
communication their delicious duty.
Diligently,they work together,
organizing themselves to make some sense.
Then they’re cropped, trimmed, & pruned
so sweet significance is condensed.
Activated by tears of passion,
Heart no longer may contain
the drip of beauty that all started with
a deep emotion of indescribable pain.
Silent surges of sage signals
echo through emptiness, unseen & obscure,
living in a world so tragically untouched
by lines of everlasting literature.
Cherry Picking
Let's go cherry picking,
plucking the ripe red round
marbles off their roots,
stealing them from the
bush they've called home for
their entire lives. It's just like
us, you see?, as we
innocently sat by & watched the
world crumble around us,
perched on our shelves of
cluttered brown stems
where names weren’t needed
because we all cared for one
another regardless. But then
Reality struck, shaking the bush.
Each cherry fell, one by one, into the dirt.
Some were picked up & put into
pretty little baskets with
checkered ribbons & promised to be
used to their full potential; others
just lay there, bathing in dust,
staring up at the rest of us,
humiliated. We clung tightly,
fearing the day we might fall.
But time marches on,& the
wind of changing seasons swept
through & knocked us off. We fell—
first you; then me.Life has never
been the same, the wind whisking us
wherever it pleases without
consideration to our sanity, feet
threatening to squash our dreams,
hands taunting us with possibilities
just slightly out of reach, & the rest of
the cherries ridiculing our helplessness.
Everyone falls at some point. So let us go—
let us go cherry picking. Maybe we can
swoop up a few songless souls &
revive them with beautiful purpose,
reminding them of their dazzling
charm & captivating colour. Though
everyone falls, not everyone is
able to climb back up to a place of
contentment. So let’s help them get there.
We’re all just little cherries
who can’t help but fall,
so we attempt to glide with grace,
maintaining some dignity &
declaring that we are falling for a
reason.
Untitled Love Poem
Chimes drizzle rhythm
into the edges of your sewn up spirit;
it leaks into a rebirth, silk like honey
& as promising as the
glorious rainbows in the heavens.
Never before has such a soul as yours,
so beautiful & intact,
bothered to invest so many irreplaceable hours
into my damaged little life
that lingers here, now,
on the verge of devastation.
On the verge of collapsing behind basic repair,
I sink into your arms
& lean into your chest. A foot taller than me,
you drape over me,
clutching me with tender care.
Green eyes glisten,
dancing with playful curiousity
& vibrant life. Your
lighthearted smirk, goofy expressions,
warm presence, inviting personality,
& pleasant conversations keep me
peacefully contented.
The act of exchanging a
level of intimacy must be earned with you;
cheap love & temporary satisfaction are
unattractive in every fashion
& your worth exceeds such callous commitment.
I drift away in your eyes
as we sink into the night,
& for the first time in my life
I am home.
Between the Sea & Sand
I think I'll walk the line
between the sea & sand
while I think this through
& try to understand
why love is a maze, mystery, riddle,
& through all this mess, I'm stuck in the middle.
I think I'll sail the seven seas
to search for answers & a smile,
to find something that may yet please
that can push me forth from this denial
of forever wondering why
you left without a goodbye.
I think I'll soar the sky so blue
to look for who I'm meant to be,
in search of every thought of you,
to locate Fate's lock & then its key
that'll save me from the me today
& set myself upon Fate's way.
I think I'll trace your name in the sand
as I tiptoe along the shore
because love is a thing I can't understand:
I want you ¬hing more.
Feelin' Real
Things that are real don't feel as such
until truth reaches out to touch
the heart of stone &mind of steel
to teach of things, both fake &real,
to reassure the soul of open eyes,
to unmask reality's clever disguise.
Things that're real just don't seem real,
so I base fact off what I feel
Unicorns
Dancing around like it’s a
ballroom; spinning about with
utter glee & sheer ecstasy.
Natural thrill knows no better
synonym than the moving oneness,
this well-articulated formation of
creatures. Enslaved by a bubble
yet not trapped: freed by the
intellect of infatuation. They
roam the land without
consultation of fierce reality &
bitter truths. Brutality is but a
word never mentioned to their
slightly undeveloped brains.
Ignorance is surely bliss as they
flit about, imaginary prancing
ponies, strutting carefree with one
another as if twitterpation lurked the
land year-round: there is no season for
alleged love when it appears present
always. So they dance the year away.
For, in this land, there are no
seasons; merely moments where
bubbles are never popped.
American Dream
If I could float upon the heavens,
Majestic steamboats of white & blue,
Whisked away by a breezy breath
Of a dreamy wish I thought I knew.
The ultimate life of flight & freedom
Glorified by shore's abstract lines,
Feathers gliding on invisible forces as
Envy sparks from the way your eye shines.
Sweet silhouette against a pastel sky
Screaming of the American way,
Living the motto of "do or die,"
Conquering fear each risky day.
Delicious colours lick up the
Waves, Skating in & out of smiles,
Unwavering call of hungry impulses
Echo down the beach for miles.
Shoreline, Skimmed, Flit
Across the slick oceantop,
Gleefully, float across the sea,
Not daring to ever stop.
Diving into bleak depths of threats,
Scavenger of the Ocean's hand,
Hard-headed, Stubborn, So on your own,
While I merely stand upon a land of sand.
Unsharpened knives pierce with the
Splash, Beauty leaking from the drops,
Whisked into quest for, question of survival,
Water's growl allergic to feather's tops.
Responsible for precious life, Still
Burdened by the needed Bold,
Objectives grasped within the wing,
Fearless of the odds, so cold.
Taken for granted, climbing air, from
Blue of ocean to the sky,
I look up at you, Thing in flight,
I hear your declarative, thrilling cry.
You shout of freedom, so serene,
Yet tell of times when Life's a drag,
You crash & burn yet stand again
Firm as the American flag.
You shout of freedom, so serene,
You tell of days when it's a pain:
The times you're chased, meals are
Scarce; you hate to fly, still, in the rain.
Yet never do you quit your journey
Soaring steamboats of white & blue
As you're whisked away by a breezy breath
Painted by a Dream I wish I knew.
The Race
A chuckle & then the race begins.
I never meant to steal that precious gift,
a treasure secreted within every soul,
craving to be known & stolen, shaken up
& discovered & renewed by another.
It tickles inside, chalk etching smiles on the
blackboard of the heart. It knocks & pounds
& pushes on the door, yearning only for release,
freedom from its birthplace, roots, foundation;
this pumping creature is all it has ever known.
Now it desires emotion & loyalty & a kind & caring
touch. It wants life. But I never meant to
steal it, let it out from its cage prematurely.
& So the race begins: heart racing as we chase
each other ‘round the trees in the park
just so I can steal you again, this time by
the hand. Heart racing as we race, forever
racing time.
Impossible is Nothing
Let's pretend for a moment
That this world was ours,
Eyes consumed by Love
&A million little stars,
Let's imagine for a second
That this Love could last,
That every mistake we made
Is long since buried in the past,
Let's envisage two pretty little liars,
See how they make it by,
How they relate to the pointless cheers,
How they Laugh, Live, Love, &Lie,
Let's ideate of all the ways
We'll live happily on for countless days,
Sing of Love &Happy grins,
Forgetting Fate &all his sins,
Wishful thinking, Wistful nights,
Forgetting all our pointless fights,
Masked within the miles between,
Loving the sunsets, So serene,
We've misplaced the doubts
That we once shared,
We've relinquished Fate
(As if he once cared!),
We've taken hold of each other
By the hand &by the Heart,
We've grasped hope of Forever
(Though we don't know where to start!),
Let's pretend for a moment
That this world was ours,
Eyes consumed by Love
&A million little stars,
Let's imagine for a lifetime
That we were meant to be,
That only us together will ever
Set Love's potential free.
"Impossible is just a big word thrown around
by small men who find it easier to live in the world
they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it.
Impossible is not a fact. It's an opinion.
Impossible is not a declaration. It's a dare.
Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary.
Impossible is nothing." — Muhammad Ali
In Sync
Two souls of distant hearts meet &, so soon,
eyes fall, in sync, with a silent, mystical tune
causing words to whisk their way out from where
it was dangerous to ever show some whimsical care.
Now I wish to write & whistle & wriggle
through the turbulence of life's magnificent riddle.
I miss having a love ever so much
yet I destroy everything that I try to touch.
Memories of past flings seep straight into
the definition of me & every thought of you.
Judgment clouded, I doubted the sweet possibility
of, for once in my life, feeling free to be me.
Verbal honesty frightens off any chance at romance
yet souls persist, hearts won't quit, & we sync into a dance.
Despite our defenses being highly equipped,
our brick walls very slowly are chipped.
Though pieces are not yet put back into place,
they are found from the ground at a much more rapid pace.
Sweet potential is seen with day's stunning dawn;
we secretly hope that pain may soon be all gone.
So step out from the shadow; leap onto land you can't see:
sometimes just one leap of faith can set a soul free.
My Sweet Somehow
I've been staring at these old pictures
Memories spilled through ink &bled
Into the thought of Never, The hope of
Forever, &Everything we said,
Life without you astonishes my soul
Even now, As I move along each day,
I have yet to learn to live without you
Somehow, in Some sweet precious way,
Just tell me we would've never worked any
Ways, That I didn't waste any thing on you,
That you have benefited &So have I
(Though we know this to be wholly untrue).
I've been sifting through old thoughts
Of all that we once were, &Now
I've slipped into a Hope of Forever,
No thoughts of Never, Some sweet someway, Somehow.
Sinking Sand
When have you ever known what to do
or how to see commitments through?
You failed when you tried and ran when I cried
and now you’ve forever left my side.
Where will you go when only I know
that you reap what you plant
and you plant what you sow?
What will you do when I’m watching you
and all Life has fled, along with Love too?
Who would trust you if only they knew
all that you’ve done and put me through?
Why can’t you see the pain before me
because of who you can and can’t be?
I trusted, you lied; I failed when I tried;
you laughed when I cried; now Love’s left my side.
When will you understand I’m standing in sand
and I need you to lead me to solid land?
Promises
I’ll scrap book the promises you once whispered
beneath the canopy of summer love
when the world paused and tipped its hat
wishing us good luck on our insoluble endevour
into an endless cave of fading echoes
that once held a future, but now only tells of your
broken promises.
Breaking, Broken
Broken Heart Breaking Hearts
I wish I could un-know you. take back the
promises I kept & ignore the ones you broke.
venture on through life’s magic without
pausing to lift you up off the ground: loyalty at
first sight.
believe in love without immediately inviting it.
ignore time ticking on as I fantasize about
a family of my own someday. slip back into
make-believe where the petals never stop at
“he-loves-me-not.” I wish I could un-know your
Brokenness
that
Broke
me.
Hello, End
hello End. the
taste of your name on
my tongue has felt
so sweet for so long.
so long, Hope & all that is good.
I'm sorry to be so misunderstood
that my life ends on a tragic note
rather than the melody of inspiration.
hello End. oh, how beautiful you are!
you bring rest, relief, all I've sought for
for ten years. I plead for you to come,
come end this misery; come, End.
Releasing My Label
back in the darkness again...
will this raging battle ever end?!...
24 years strong, I am...
the darkness will come again...
but so will the glorious Light
before which will end this dark night...
So, I will keep up the fight,
Soul beaming forth my profound Light...
boldly confronting the darkness within
for I now know it was not caused by my sin.
instead, it was pain inflicted upon me
that shackled my consciousness despite desperate attempts to break free.
fearlessly facing inner demons plaguing heart & mind,
confident in abilities to leave the past behind,
I seize this moment—here & now, today—
refusing to allow this “disorder” to get in my way.
My Favourite Things Rewrite
Swinging in hammocks & chasing teal rainbows
Daydreaming o’ kisses, apple pies in the windows
Love wrapped with a ribbon, all laced up in string
These are a few of my favourite things.
When the wolf howls
When the lies sting
When I’m feeling sad
I simply look back at my favourite things
& then I don’t feel so bad.
The Scribbling Dreamer
Meaning scribbled between the lines of
an unreasonable thinker
who writes his life story on the sides of
cereal boxes and meaningless cardboard
discovered on his midnight escapade
as his eyes scanned the dark horizon
in search of a dream to put him to sleep.
The mash of disrupted crayon colors
flood the imagination of a broken mind
enough to gather the altitude of a gasped breath
in a manner worthy of a dreamer
and the dreamer's beloved path, for
"a dreamer is one who can only find his way
by moonlight, and his punishment is that
he sees the dawn before the rest of the world" (Oscar Wilde).
Beautiful Soul
Where did you go?,
so lost in their definition of
you, of "truly living," of
alleged happiness. Yet,
deep down within that
beautiful soul I've witnessed,
do you truly feel at home?,
comfortable to live as you wish,
accepted for your quirks & flaws,
adored for the scars that
speak of great strength &
perseverance. Is that the you
that they know? Have they even
seen that side of your
flawless spirit? I have. &
I fell in love.
But now that perfect beauty
is nowhere to be found.
You've lost yourself, &, in
that process, you've also
lost me.
The Insanity of Words
It is a matter of sanity,
of exploding to feed the soul's natural craving
of deteriorating beneath the call of Words—
Words, the dreaded love of every author's life
which builds the bridges between senselessness and reason
& tears down roads into the realm of plausible facts and illustrations.
Tears collide into the smiles of fate
where Words mark the pathway, lit by sheer ambivalence
because love and hate are equal to the writer's heart
just as peace and war confront upon the same battlefield.
Leaking from the ink and blood, brains cannot confide
with the passion; nor can passion agree to disagree
with a mind of perpetual cogitating.
Within the passive thoughts of an aging story
sneaks a mouse who never gave up hope
to be discovered though he knew not of
fame and glory and what those titles entail
because never had he seen beyond the horizon
of his own meager view of the kitchen floor.
A raging toss between the pages of an unwritten story
will prove to drive Words to madness
as they reach out and touch a heart
that soon opens like a blossoming flower
upon the discovery of itself.
No matter of touching nor hearing nor seeing
can ever behold the wonder of Words
and how they affect every being on earth
and change lives for the better or for the worst.
It is a matter of insanity to see Words
placed before an illiterate mind
that cannot even begin to fathom
the wondrous creation of letters and symbols
to form a reasonable statement, full of intelligence
and life and mystery and satisfaction and explanation and emotion.
It was never a matter of retaining sanity
because no sane mind can keep itself
bottled up in a jar of contentment;
rather, it wanders the fields of loneliness
and travels through valleys of desperation
and seeks a soul that can relate to its journey
through the land of untouched wounds.
To retain a quest for sanity, the author meanders
into the vast, open air of Words
that labels each and every soul
Insane.
The Forgotten Book
I see their faces,
mirages in the wind.
not even Time pauses to
tip his hat at their
valiant efforts. I wish to
know their names,
hug their forgotten souls.
maybe then their
dreams would
possess pleasantries
rather than the looming dark(ness)
that haunts them now. they have
stories, you know. just as we all do.
but the difference is,
no one wishes to read theirs
simply because their
covers don’t catch the eye.
some don’t even have
pictures or fancy fonts or
witty titles to draw you in.
there’s death in them, you know,
within those precious souls.
you can see it in their eyes,
feel it on their breath, even
hear it when they hum their way
through long days of endless struggles.
life is a precious storybook. not a
single soul on this earth wishes for
their book to remain unopened.
contentment might be more
common if each book bore
worn pages, dirty from
filthy hands
clutching them with affection,
& if the pages
wore thin from being
tossed & turned with excitement.
but of course
Time has not time enough to
pause the wicked game as
competition carries on,
each book striving to be the
next bestseller.
beautiful souls are tossed aside.
only when they are written about
do we somehow wish
we could have
known them.
(*Inspired by the movie Albatross.)
Clutched & Curled
I'll never understand what
happened in those months of
African twilights & scorched summer
earth when my world paused for you
while yours kept right on spinning.
Whatever it was, I hope the journey
fed fulfillment to the heart I was
formerly permitted to love. The fingers I
once clutched & curled became a fist that
soon shooed me away. A ring, gone yet
never forgotten, cowers in the corner of a
box decorated with Eiffel Tower dreams,
sweet mystical schemes of “forever &
always.”
I suppose a thought of you
with every glimpse of chocolate pools &
shiny pennies & freckled-face grins shall
remain with me always, while your heart
wanders elsewhere, traveling into the
heart of a broken nation. I just hope
you learn to fix yourself before
promising to fix another’s devastation.
For now, I’m wandering too, still
gathering the pieces to my own
shattered soul. Maybe some day I’ll even
attempt to forge it all
back together.
Reign, My Rain
In a moment, it all goes black,
Sunlight gone, The clouds roll in,
& So it is in human heart,
The dark'ning day consumed by sin,
What mark can tell the true Time's fall,
Who's ever heard of Time at all?,
For truly Rain can cloud the Mind
& Leave all Reasoning behind,
No Time now may chase the rain
Falling down my windowpane.
It trickles down like a slow leak,
An introduction for the Storm,
A warning—soft, slow, at ease—,
Gliding down in perfect form,
So what of Pasts & Histories,
So what of Truth & her Mysteries,
So what of Opinions & silly remarks,
So what of a chill or a fire's sparks,
No Vote could chase this rain
Sliding down my windowpane.
It rolls, It growls, It speaks in defense
Of every dark thing hidden within,
It mocks the wind, It sharpens Cloud's call,
It points out the darkness of Soul's sin,
Thunder speaks, Oh tell me now
Do you still believe in You somehow?,
Or has this darkened day taken its toll
As you hear that thunder roll?,
No Thought may chase away the rain
Now slipping down my windowpane.
Rain, it falls, It cries, It dies,
Afternoon has hidden her light,
Emotions, Commotion within the Soul,
Inside, Heart cries, Dark as the night,
A flash of something unlike the dark
To attempt to make its bold mark
Upon your precious, sweet disguise
That hides the Fear beneath your eyes,
Oh howling wind & intense lightning
Do seem, to you, child, so frightening,
No Hope will ever chase the rain
Now rushing down my windowpane.
To summarize, now, I must say
This is, indeed, a darkened day,
But Soul does not need a light
To be inspired to shine bright,
All it needs is a Belief
& Some sweet form of Relief
To thrive & make a mark on Time,
Even to write some cheesy rhyme,
So hear me out, I will be Me,
My reign will set this Soul free:
No Disbelief could chase away my rain
That has washed away every trace of pain.
Escaping my Coffin
Locked in this casket before...
Neverending emotions seeping into my dying skin...
Air toxic with empty breaths from mindless passerbys...
No one to hear my screams
because they’re silent:
I was never taught to use my voice.
Burning alive from the inside out,
Torn apart by all the injustices
that caged me in the first place,
Lost in a land of broken spirits trying to break me too...
Will I ever break free?
Fairy sparkles slip into the cracks of my coffin;
Singing drowns out the wailing sorrows from (the) town;
Chains begin to crackle & break open;
Light seeps in as the lid slowly begins to creak open...
Dare I hope to be saved?
I am blinded by the light!
Sitting up proves painful.
Overwhelmed by the sudden change, I cringe
& sink back into my coffin.
It’s comfortable; it’s “safe.”
Do I dare to leave the only place
I’ve ever known to explore the light?
Slowly, I rise. It’s a painful adjustment
but I take on the challenge
of adapting to this new world, this
new reality that dares to offer hope.
I am free.
Untitled
We realized, all at once,
that we're all too big & this world's too small,
& we stand so grand,
so great & so tall.
But where does that leave us?,
as we lay here awake,
with plans to be dreamt,
wild world to forsake.
We kick off our shoes & relax,
for this life is a beautiful ride.
We're so grateful not to have missed out
because the children within us never died.
We slip into a slumber
more restful than most nights
because eyes are wide open
to this land's glorious, invisible sites.
Morning Bike Ride
Sailing through the misty wonder,
eyes scan horizon for a taste of air
only to find what lay under
fog, thickening, and more fog there.
Peeping silence stirred the brush
beneath the sleepy mind—
unable to feel wind’s great rush,
unable to leave home behind.
Spinning, turning, sailing in the morn’;
Seeing, yawning, welcoming the day,
Knowing this is where dreams are born,
Blinding/Blinded, glancing into sun’s smiling ray.
Songs are heard from hidden birds
stretched beneath the dawning light,
Heard in tune, melody—no words—,
Glowing like Time burning bright.
The road’s a sea and I its sailor,
responding to its beckoning cry.
I’ve never seen the earth much paler
nor a bluer sight than this blue sky.
I pause and prop my legs ajar
to steady myself and the bike below
as I stare into the hills afar
and above at clouds, white as snow.
The earth’s a meadow and I a flower
waiting to be picked by one
whose heart is more sweet than sour,
whose laughter fills my eyes with fun.
I sigh and push myself back onto
the purple bike that’s carried me
through the lands I thought I knew
like this road, a deep blue sea.
Bleeding Lies
Back &forth between what's real &fake,
Bleeding lies, Truth to forsake,
Love or hate, Give or steal, All for the take,
Poisonous, Baneful, Harmful to the touch, Chased,
Virulent, Detrimental, Deadly in the taste,
Lies envenom the heart, All toxic waste,
Deucedly noxious, Crying with helpless pain,
Injured beyond all rectification, Driven insane,
Rainbows faded, Dawn's gone, All's gray &plain,
Handing heart out only to break,
Bleeding lies, You're my sweet mistake,
Torn between what's real &fake,
Crossing the line I did make,
Bleeding lies at the stake,
I'm forever between what's real &fake.
Quake in the Night
The lamp, it burns with a faint glow,
hiding the truth intellect doth know
with the sweetly soothing ember light
—All in the dead of night.
The hands, they hold each other warmly
unlike the coldness they once felt norm’ly,
for now they love and cling so tight
—Happy in the night.
The sun, it shone without a care,
ignoring fortune waiting there
as it burned—it gleamed—ever so bright
—All in the dead of night.
The trees, they sway, not knowing why
they shan’t speak though they live and die,
and they’re tall and proud yet have no might
—Still in the dead of night.
The soul, it churns, unclean and scarred,
pushing upward though it be hard
to seek redemption and return to white
—Praying in the dead of night.
The wind, it speaks a wistful tune,
laughing at the sun, the moon,
and all clear nature lying in sight
—All in the dead of night.
The eyes, they dart to and fro,
glaring at all—above, below—
and bidding danger to attack and bite
—Malicious in the night.
The rumors, they spread without remorse
as they attract Fate and Destiny’s course
though they shan’t take all Fate by force
and upon Earth’s doom, they provoke a fight
—All in the dead of night.
The cries erupt without a cause
and life shan’t even break nor pause
though Fate doth count all of their flaws
and tears fall while reaching a new height
—All in the dead of night.
The pen, it scribbles down a thought
of which the person never sought
though meaning to Earth it has brought
as hand keeps moving, trying to write
—All in the dead of night.
The stove, it heats to begin, prepare
a meal for mouths, for host to share
and tongue is bidden to taste a bite
—Hungry in the night.
The house, it shakes, so unaware
as the storm lashes down to scare
with roof to damage, windows impair
and cause the household a decent fright
—All in the dead of night.
The staircase quakes with ill-intent,
misfortune bidden and, soon, sent
as mind observes life’s not right
—All in the dead of night.
The shades, they shiver with a tear and a cry
and, with howling wind, begin to shudder and fly
as all trembles in the misty moonlight
—All in the dead of night.
The mouse, it peeps, terrified and alone,
missing the days when the sun once shone,
for now it is darkness the house doth invite
—All in the dead of night.
The lamp goes out as shouts are heard
though silence invades their every word
and blurred is their precious sight
—All in the dead of night.
The house, so quiet, sleeps for now
though it may awake—someday, somehow—
and all is calm, so snug and tight
—All in the dead of night.
Creeping during the fatal quake,
death is near—alert, awake—,
refusing to, a soul, forsake,
feeling led, again, to take,
though it feels wrong and not quite right,
two souls forever sleeping tight
—Dead in the dreary night.
Maimed
If I knew I wouldn't hurt you, I'd try to explain,
But I'm only cutting you down with this pain.
Repetitious fights are so drab & mundane,
Displacing my brain: Totally crazy insane.
I'm driving along in Love's fast lane,
Trying to maintain, contain, refrain
From spilling the Truth
Of all I have done in my Youth.
I cringe, Break down, Stand in the rain,
Weary of struggles, Of wearing these chains.
I remember your face but have forgotten your name
Because all the world's words are the silly same.
I'm reliving the guilt, Taking on the blame
'Though it began with him &all he became.
I'm living a lie, Just playing this game,
Misplacing my fire, Misdirecting my aim,
Refusing to spill the darkness of Truth,
Of all that I've done in my Youth.
I've stepped into a fire, Consumed by this flame.
For Love, uttered a curse &a mild disclaim.
If I knew I wouldn't hurt you, I'd try to explain.
But I can't, so I just keep on playing this game.
Come Again
Sinking ships and fading dawns,
Nights come and go but never move on,
Slashed between the graying shades,
Rainbows never come again,
Weary from prolonging pain,
Caught up in unmercy's rain,
Rainbows never come again,
Forgiveness may never come again,
Hidden in the caving wall,
With haunting whisper's beckoning call,
Ghost's shrill voice is heard and all,
Yet never do you feel so small,
Never backing down from fear,
Never thinking end is near,
Never breathing your atmosphere,
Never considering heartless cheer,
A mystery, a vision, an unseen dream,
Is all you have to go plan your scheme,
Hoping last words won't end in screams,
Maybe you'll remember this heartless theme,
Tackling the shooting stars, you'll forget,
The one hope that turned to regret,
When you said goodbye to The One you met,
Denying heart's unpayable debt,
Sinking ships and fading dawns,
Nights come and go but never move on,
Slashed between the graying shades,
You may never come again,
Hope may never come again,
I wish that you would come again, . . .