Friday, May 25, 2012

A lack of colour

I ask the muse to keep me warm


Siting in a puddle of rain 

I smile at the sunshine 

As my dreams go washing down the drain

 

In another failed romance

Another failed chance at life

The doors are closed 

As my hopes begin to slide

I lift the bottle to wash away my pride

 

A signature scribbled in haste

Signs away another life

I swig and I swill

Erasing the pain and the memories

Engraved in another tattoo

 

Listen to the music that no-one else hears

I dance alone to my own fractured demons

As the passer by’s ignore another has been

Left on the boardwalk on the road to damnation

I see them but they don't see me

 

Glistening on the truth

Left to make my own roads

I strike and light another tattered cigarette 

Squint as I look to the city of the darkened losers

Pull the collar up of the Op shop leather jacket

Warn by another with similar hopes and dreams

 

If I could have walked away

I think I would have by now

Its not just another bad week

Im caught in my own little circle

I rain down and strangle the neck of another bottle

 

I live in my own personal asylum

Where I protect those from my own personal ache

I can see the despised living in the shadows in my head

Linger in the absence of the colours of the thunderolls

And kiss the blackness as it cascades down my cheek

 

Im still sitting in the puddle

Im still smiling at the sun

I cannot ignore the truth that lies in a broken heart at my feet

Spilling down the drain


13 comments:

Daydreamertoo said...

I came here earlier to comment and just saw the Facebook, Yahoo etc ways to comment so gave up.
Just came back to re-read again and saw there is the usual way to add a comment too.
I had said that I guess we all have our own inner demons we must fight to survive. Life is hard but, there is always hope. This was dark, emotional, very vivid in each line, painful journey of self discovery, even.
Very good write!

Kerry O'Connor said...

Your poetry is so very good. I appreciate the amount of effort that you put into every piece - lots of thought went into these words.

Mary said...

Just wanna say that writing helps dispel the blackness and eventually light will return.

Unknown said...

Excellent piece. Wow, what and ending, just loved it. and so many deep piercing lines here. Great job. Thanks

Scarlet said...

I can feel your despair and broken words, the personal asylum, and shadows in your head.

I hope you will find the smiling sun ~ Thanks for sharing this ~

Hannah said...

This is written very visually and expressively. Great writing!

Susie Clevenger said...

It is often the darkness that gives me the strongest words. A great piece!!

Claudia said...

def. a felt piece...sitting in the rain puddle, smiling at the sunshine is a very palpable image..kissing the blackness, cascading down the cheeks gave me shivers... hey..good morning by the way...enjoy your coffee..

Unknown said...

revealing poem... heartbreaking details of loneliness and pain...

esp loved
"A signature scribbled in haste
Signs away another life
I swig and I swill
Erasing the pain and the memories
Engraved in another tattoo"

very powerful write

Anonymous said...

All that is passed between life and the veins shall always render a mark on the flesh, whether inked in colour on skin needing a release or whether caged in the heart that desires the taste of freedom...guess we will know when the day of reckoning comes....how will the tattoo's speak then or the wishes that cause pangs over such lostness it has become too vast to live in...
As always sweetheart, ripped the tissue of the soul...xoxo

Brian Miller said...

some hard feeling in this one..the bit on being in the asylum to protect those around you...been there...lots of pain man...but well spun...live on

Mystic_Mom said...

This poem reads so well, and when we've lived a bit on the side where scars come from it reads so powerfully! Love the opening and closing stanzas.

shawnacy said...

love the Op shop jacket - putting on the thoughts and dreams of another, sliding your arms into their hopes, slipping hands into pockets filled with other wants...
such rich imagery.