It rains on me tonight as it did in the morning

No exit route or home to fall in

Because nothing seems to fit

Nothing seems to satisfy

Or ease the mind ’til five

Misery’s mine until I die

Shut out and dropped from the sky

With no sight, fight or flight

Sipping dregs and having sex

There ain’t no fish in that sea

Of love nor money, the empty barrel

Is scraped once a...

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And indeed, 

the seasons will shift once again,

Yet,

that one autumn leaf, 

will hold onto the branch,

with all its might,

Awaiting the breeze,

to carry it away.

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There’s an art 
To letting go of something
You never fully held
Refilling the glass
That is your heart

Why do these thoughts
Always cut so deeply
They come in such vivid
Shades of sadness
I can barely breathe

There’s an art
To navigating 
These troubled straits
Letting go of past lives
And vanished friends

There’s art
In the way you choose
To love
And in the way you choose
...

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Dear Lord of mercy and order,

You who shaped the constellations

and placed every heart upon its rightful path—

hear me.

 

You have destined me a man,

steady as an oak,

a harbor built for my future.

In him, I find peace,

honor, and the promise of a home.

 

But another soul tempted my spirit—

a lightning in the dark,

a soul I touched only in passing.

Not min...

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It’s late, another day is gone

Sun rose in east just to set on

The horizon in the west

Life and death abreast but the rest is best

When lights are off and away

And I sleep until the next day

Only to continue my endless cycle

Relive my self-inflicted trifle

Just feel stifled so detraction

From my pain is my distraction

My existence a fraction of my desire

No sight o...

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After fighting, and ofcourse, winning,

a grave battle,

against the storm, within me,

I will, finally, sit back, and think.

Gazing at the night sky,

when I will embrace the light of moon,

I will not look back, in time, and regret,

but will surely rejoice, for the present, I am,

And if somehow I realise,

that yes, I am me,

That will be the moment,

when I will be, 

...

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I live my days in nuanced pathways

going to and from what i expect myself to do,

going back and forth within life,

a contradicting pendulum that irrevocably pulls and fulfills me.

 

at times, overwhelm pulls me and exhausts me,

but i function, like i should in this society.

but i am not a machine,

i am not...

however, i do what is expected of me.

 

sometimes, ...

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It’s still and grey today

The sky in fuzzy light and shadow

That never blackens or blues

Not one way or the other

No company or conversation

Just quiet inside and out

In the comfort of this melancholy

And lack of thought or feeling

Unresponsive with lidded eyes

No ache or fire

Neither delusional optimist

Nor insufferable pessimist

Teetering the fine white line

...

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If a leopard can’t shed its spots
  why should I?

born in the wild — no tame, just claws.
if i wanted to feel something
 maybe i should do it;
that way the wind’s gusts this time
  will wrap itself around me instead.

constant foreboding —
 the lust i have for pity is insatiable.
stroke me there,
 my ego can take it;
i am not just the fiction
  in your fable.

worked to nil,
 rou...

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May 1886

 

Hidden –

plain view –

either side

of an atomied veil.

 

A spectral dress,

brilliant under

the white wood covering:

heliotrope and violets,

lady’s slipper

from the homestead,

now one week past.

 

Hidden exists –

Hidden is present,

cramming invisibility

like a swarm.

 

Solitude is

the pressure of

nothing,

filled to th...

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There is paint on the moon tonight
soft, silver-white
a shimmer that bends truth into grace.
It glows so sweetly
we forget the stone beneath
the raw pulse of craters
the quiet scars of age.

Once, the moon was enough.
Bare. Honest.
A mirror of all that wandered and wished.
Now, brushed in borrowed color
it hums a prettier lie,
a dream dressed in gloss.

The paint catches light
and ...

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October, hell is over

The fog has rolled on down

Now rightfully isolated, thank God

Like everyone else, no sound

Or eyes watching, waiting

Like never ending nighttime

Alone in solitude and so are you

Mist leaves no end in sight

Of the end of the road, no safe abode

Hardly a foot ahead

Is clear to either you or I

Somewhere in the fog, we’re dead.

 

It comes to...

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Sometimes I venture out on the coldest day

And deliberately underdress

In hopes that the wind will freeze me

Those pinpricks up and down the flesh

The open isolation

The stillness and obstructed view

The fog, the unknown

And revel in the freedom of it all

 

Sometimes I sit on the edge of the bed

And open the door out to the landing

And look into the darkness

To ...

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I picked my lip until it bled

Got iron in my teeth

And when I wiped the stinging wound

I stained the cotton sheets

I licked the wound repeatedly

Still the blood kept flowing

‘Til I gave up, it trickled down

My chin, the stinging growing

 

I stayed in bed all morning

I stayed awake all night

I stayed inside the dreary town

That sad pathetic sight

Miserable but...

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From the ventricular beating comes the pulse

Of the stinking iron between my teeth

And punching of my neck

 

From the rotting of the palate comes the heave

Of the dreaded desert breath

And choking stones

 

From the tremor of the limbs comes the aching of the flesh

The rash and heavy lids

Of stinging iris

 

From the throbbing squirm of the cerebrospinal snake

...

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I ended up opening our texts again
A pain, My heart can’t explain
Im trying to hold back my tears —
I might drown with them, I fear

But I just want to know —
why?
Why me?
If you liked her,
Why bother even speaking to me?
Why did you pretend feelings?
Why insult me?
And how could you leave so abruptly?

I hate you.
But I don’t.
I like you.
But I don’t.

It was something I believ...

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Slumber remains in restlessness, come east or west

Come rising, falling chest, come worst or best

 

Mindlessness parallels the weight of the world

That never ceases to spin when Armageddon unfurls

 

A mothers heart shatters by the blowing of candles

She’s 5, he’s 8 by ruinous shambles

 

Ribcages protrude at the foot of the table

Not a scrap to be offered come frail, c...

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The birds sang so loud that they became the music

The twittering echo of summer laced into the chill of winter

And weaved into the warmth of the sun in a tapestry

Of shadow and light, day and night

And dewdrops cling to the grass from the night before

Like a mother to her baby in a hospital ward

A hand to the chest, a mouth to the breast

From breathing to suckling, one body to...

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I was driven down the highway

In a spanking silver car

24 and looking for an answer

But hadn’t gotten very far

And as I looked across my shoulder

To the school kids running by

Their hopeful eyes seemed dampened

By the clouded grey of mine

 

The suffocation only stops

Just when the lights go down

But from the land into the sea

In morning light, I drown

My moti...

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In my head, I hide a gun
its pointing at me and thats no fun
it reloads every time I whirl my head
around something not worth the dread

The safety is off, my feelings may pull the trigger
One more worry, and the gun would fire, I figured
Its heavy, not the gun, but my thoughts
They work well together like tight knots

Dearest bullets, stay the fuck away from me
'Cause I’ll be tempted t...

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I met him by the roadside

Standing tall with shoulders wide

He smoked a fag I couldn’t abide

And asked me if I’d come inside

A dull linguistic polymer

A tiresome interlocutor

Who cares when promiscuity

Rears its head, it grins and tempts me

 

Unknown and hardly trusting

Inside the room we fornicate in

In and out, in and out

Breathing, fucking, no room for doubt

...

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Amanda flies the wide skies

From Canada to England and back again

And unborn cries of bloodline ties

Comes calling her back home

Embroidered blankets, silk and knitted

Toys of softest fur

She casts a glance with loving eyes

And takes them with her when she goes

 

Amanda leaves a hanging pendant

Silver native maple leaf

A gift for friends of decades gone

That Eng...

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I'd rather walk the dusty road,

wipe the grit from my feet,

cough brown sand from my throat,

while zebras gallop in the vast savannah.

 

I'd rather feel the sun on my face,

the wind's wild, untamed embrace,

each footfall a story written,

in a world not yet forgotten.

 

Than

tread the tarmac,

where cars flash past, a game of life and death.

Each one a fleeting...

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Water laps at my feet

as I gaze upon the sunset.

The sky's warm tones seep into the ocean

golden light dancing across the waves.

 

   The world slows down in this moment of beauty

   the fading light leaves me in a contemplative silence.

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(a poem for the hills that remember)

There is a silence the world cannot name—

a silence not born of fear,

but of memory,

and men who have seen too much to speak.

 

Between the spears,

hung gently on bamboo walls,

something waits.

Not war.

Not peace.

Something older.

 

The boy in Mon sharpens wood not for battle,

but because his father did.

And his fath...

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Two nuns on a bus

a quiet island in the middle of a chaotic sea

I sat down beside them

a stranger in a bustling world.

 

One held a rosary

her finger moving over the beads with grace

The other had a worn bible open in her lap

her eyes tracing the lines of a passage I couldn't see.

 

The bus rattled

the world outside a blur of cars, buildings and people 

but in t...

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We've felt the rain

but not the cold sweep of the floods

We've slept soundly

while others kept vigil

The sun has warmed us, 

but not scorched our ground

No crop has failed 

no hunger has been found.

 

At a distance, we've heard the sirens 

but never felt the fear of what's to come

Our hearts have mended from passing pains

not shattered by the loss of our loved o...

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is there an end to this darkness

or will I forever stagger on the path?

is there a will where there is a way?

if so, i want to know.

 

my father says i’m cursed

my mother barely calls my name

an abomination of sort, she says

mr. miller in school believed her.

 

I received the end of the stick 

well, that went okay

i am upright, easy going

she likes to add: up...

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The sun's light spills through a fractured glass of green,

of gold and yellow, pink, and white—

a stained pattern of the breathing world.

 

And then, beyond this fragile frame,

blue, blue, endless blue,

a silent and untroubled sea.

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https://youtu.be/pRhjWdr-LAA?list=RDpRhjWdr-LAA

 

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A hummed string, finely tuned.

A grass blade in a field of strong winds.

A flower blooming in the heart of winter.

A sand grain swept through the wide desert.

A tender hand held in another’s.

A body embraced in a wash of warmth.

A window overlooking a bold and ancient forest.

 

I am but me, drenched in fear and dirt.

 

I wish to be all those things

But alas, I am m...

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There are things a poet shouldn’t do

like fly a plane or fix a shoe

Or hang a picture on the wall

it will either slant, or fall

 

Any vocation that makes you bored

Accountancy is best ignored

Adopting an extreme yoga position

is at odds with a poetic disposition

 

Woodwork, tapestry or macrame

Joining the Territorial Army

Playing golf or running a bar

No poet...

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My life is a lemon, always tart

A puckered grimace, day and night

Each twist and turn, a surprising burst of sour

Reflected in my watering eyes.

It's a jolt, a sudden sting.

 

Yet deep inside, a curious thrill delights

A thrill in the acrid bite.

The sharpest sting becomes a distracting game 

To keep me from a deeper ache

From vibrant chaos 

To drown out the whispe...

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"her constellations" 

 

Her constellations are bite-sized galaxies of feeling,  

each cluster a starfield guiding fingertips  

across cool stone beneath the rush of night air.  

 

“Lantern in the fog” becomes Polaris—  

steady beacon anchoring a mind adrift  

amid distant buzzle of restless streets.  

 

Swipe, scroll, tap—  

three morning prayers in digital chord, ...

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Academia Aetheris

(the celestial school of verse)

 

They came— not summoned, but stirred.

Poets born in the umbra of supernovae, 

dreaming in quatrains 

before they could form hands. 

 

Choristers of comet tails, 

scribes of auroras in decline.

Each carried a shimmer of that first interlude, 

the brief binding of Flame and Listening. 

 

Their lines bor...

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This sadness, I call it Dune

a mound of sand that forever blows into my life

looming, vast, over my head.

Its eyes, lazy and ancient

at times watch me with strange fascination

a forgotten masterpiece in a deserted gallery.

 

It calls, heedless of the hour

its scream a dull thud that drenches my heart.

I shrink, writhe, and wither

a forgotten lily

dead before its ti...

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So much living happens in the spaces we don't fill.

We rush through days filled with constant noise

of words, plans and demands

We crave explanations and definitions

the clear articulation of everything

But so much of what matters

unfurls in the quiet.

 

Think of moments just before a storm

the air thick with hushed anticipation

Or the calm after a profound experience

...

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Am I Enough?

 

Today I didn’t go anywhere

I wallowed in the heat that strangled my home

Took a seat in the spot that I frequent and listened for the changing winds of time

 

They never arrived.

 

In fact it was more of the same

‘You Okay?’, ‘Im glad’

Empty words of intricate meaning

Convey both care and solace 

Who cares?

The rain didn’t arrive all the same.

...

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I write because
It is my opportunity
To speak
With my own voice.
To just be.... me.

I write because
I hunger
Not to compel
Or inspire or entertain.

I just hunger
To make sense
Of the world around me.

by Marla Deaton  2014

 

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My heart feels like a galaxy,

constantly expanding,

trying to hold all this love for you,

yet still, it overflows.

 

No words are vast enough,

no universe wide enough,

to contain the way my heart explodes

with love for you.

 

How do I tell the stars that

my love for you stretches beyond them,

into worlds unseen?

Yet still, I yearn for more to show.

This lo...

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I want to go home, forever.

I want to rest beneath her wings

Be cradled by her gentle talons.

I want to peck at green worms

And feel each swallow in my tiny throat.

 

Well, that is, if only this beak's 

Sharp agony didn't seize me so.

 

I yearn to cry out for her

A mother should know her child's despair.

Yet no sound escapes my frail lungs

No breath stirs my tin...

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I remember the cool breeze there,

where I live, my heart still resides there,

I feel, but it's painful my mother cries,

the memories with the time fly,

why time, you can't stop,

stop just for a sec,

let us look to our past,

beautiful, ugly, wealthy or dark,

it's always more beautiful than the last,

I feel the wind moving my heart, shattered

with the pane clattered,

...

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While sitting on a couch,

My mind came with a fable

On the clock placed above the table.

White, shiny, silver and style

Depicting every journey of mile.

 

Side by me was my mom

Sleeping soundly like a baby born.

Then I took a deep dive in pond

Of thoughts, confusion, worries and all.

 

Baby assumed was a baby ago a while

And certainly would be same for me after ...

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Our planet

Our breathing home

Where all life roam.

8.7 million known species

Coexist in unity

Lighting each new day.

 

But a silent tragic scream rises

From one million souls on the verge

Of becoming numb 

Of vanishing 

Of their stories being lost to time...

A silent extinction.

 

This cruel unraveling 

Threatens the very balance.

The essential resou...

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Think about it, yeah?

We walk on separate ground 

Each in our own head.

But dig a little, feel the pull beneath 

Like every breath we take, connects us.

 

But see, not just the breath we draw 

Nor the beat within 

But the unseen thread 

Woven through each soul.

This, a truth so divine.

 

The farmer's hand that brings life from the soil

The weaver's skills a p...

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MR BOJANGLES

 

Like Mr Bo...

my heart jangles

when your smile

misses your eyes.

The face of a clown

soft shoe shuffling

through my soul.

White hands clasped.

The generous frill

framing your mask,

flutters like a wing

across the circus tent

of my broken heart.

Funny shoes walk strong,

confidently skirting around

landmines of feeling

clothe...

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The page awaits, too silent to forgive, Each empty line a dare I can’t defend. What if I write what shouldn’t even live? What if I start, and ruin where I end? A phrase begins — I edit while I write, Then stop, and stare, and scroll, and check the time. The sentence fights its own pathetic fight, Too scared to be too dull, too sharp, too prime. I think of all the better things I’ve m...

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We are the builders of silent revolutions,
Overcoming storms that history forgot to name,
Mending broken worlds with steady hands and louder hearts,
Every dream carried like a flame through the dark,
Never asking permission to be powerful.

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We are grateful for you, men — for the ones who listen without rushing to fix, for the ones who hold space, who lift us without strings. We see the hands that help, the shoulders that share the weight, the eyes that meet ours without shrinking or swallowing us whole.

But gratitude is not a gag. We are allowed to say that we are tired, too. Tired of walking with keys clutched like knives, tired ...

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You wear your sins like royal thread,

a crown of thorns upon your head.

Your hands have built, your hands have torn,

they’ve held me close, they’ve left me worn.

 

The world cries out, it speaks your name,

etched in echoes carved by flame.

Yet in the dark, where no one sees,

you whisper love like dying leaves.

 

I hope it rains in hell—

not to quench your fire,

...

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