Poetry Blog by Rudyard Kooistra

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Aviva Rifka Bhandari on No title. (11 days ago)

Rudyard Kooistra on No more deaths please. (Tue, 29 Dec 2020 09:12 pm)

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Rudyard Kooistra on The writing shed, Dylan Thomas. (Fri, 9 Oct 2020 06:25 pm)

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Robert Haigh on No Passchendaele (Fri, 11 Sep 2020 10:01 pm)

No title is good enough.

Forwards moving

leaning against he wind

your clockwork is revealing

Thoughts are counter progressive

All that you will encounter at the end

sends tears towards a meaningless death

Roots will grow with each earthly breath taken.

 

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No title/never completed anyway.

Skin could be freed

removed by force

shred its existence

Bald is the new death

sentence

Skeleton remains more

than just skindeep

Beautifull bleached bones

tells a short story

former horror glory

you looked good around the eyes.

 

 

 

 

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No title.

Those trees stand firm

keeping their ground at any cost

Twigs in a maze

what remains are the good thoughts

They will have the last say

Collective mind over useless matter

Wasteland as far as humans could destroy

Dominating the landscape

This is the path

through pain and disaster.

 

 

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Widewall

How bad do you feel while crawling

through the dirt and howling at the

darkness of the moon

Seeing your surroundings with

the lightness through the gaps

of your red bandages

Empty is the space between animals and beasts

Human skin just fades away

The signs were there for all to see

or feel

Ignoring the facts for the longest time

about the survival of the species

...

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The boy with the gun

Even angels lose some feathers

they get stuck in sand

with a breeze of water

Everything seems to matter

To which side the scale turns

good or even worse

It runs one thought constantly

where did i go wrong?

 

 

Sickness in this form

can never be undone.

 

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Catastrophic

Have you heard the truth

behind the lies of earth

True intensions will always

surface

Be afraid

Humans will be mortal

paying through blood

The ultimate sacrifice.

 

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Little dreamer

The light from the fireplace

together with the candles

dances across the walls

a barriere against the dark

your rolled up sleeves reveal finely formed veins

motoric correct

almost pure of colour

the book of eternal youth

withstands the sleepers

waiting on the smallest chance

everlasting stimulation and development

researching facts about love

Beginning and lifes...

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Steady as she goes

Metal strikes wood

sings its muffled sounds

from countless gaping wounds

The insane looking dog

almost dead in its tracks

cries loudly

Pain, pain

pure suffering

release your beast

honour the ground

sacrifice time

stutter words.

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We are heading towards the end

of our own existence

caught up by the past

your soul will be dissected

stripped

violated

Skullcap has been lifted

poison shall always be there

scythe tightened

the cross tossed aside

Death comes and goes through

the little holes of our lifes

if this is

who would envy me?

 

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Empty rooms.

Suspicious soft is the loving touch

crib death is what it was

Isolated human emotions

Walls relieved from their failed functions

Builds layers of stories

a repeating attempt

to chain the demons

from within

Silenced and twisted

aside

a sweep of the tabletop

is what will remain

Apparition sways

its dead gently back

to its sleeping stage.

 

 

 

 

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John Martin 1851/3

We have reached our top

the lake looks so tiny

and fragile

Waterfall just goes on

mixes blue and white

do you feel allright?

Words softly spoken

whispering dead mans

crutches

Guard the plains and

forgotten mountains

As if we were the last

off gods sons and daughters.

 

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Black as death.

Spaces, how black brought us death

Lies

Cut your own flesh

Everything exept

the medicine

Behaviour problems

Your background doesnt mean anything to me

you see

heaven or hell

will it be fifty percent

to me

Nightmares always or never

Two times fifty percent

makes screaming one hunderd percent

Is there a lifeforce to ask

a speedy solution

what a bloody ...

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No human.

Enjoy, dont be scared

the world as we know it

will still be turning

Horrors can suffocate

and blow smoke around your soul

Blurry are the stories that keep

clinging to your lips

Your skin itches under

the sheets

Summers drought created

static electricity

at any given time

Chemistry between humans

oozes complexity

Look

Sigh

Cue

Each piece of being

...

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Dartmoor

The ghost fears its thinking

about walking

faster and faster

approaching mountains

seconds turn to two curses

Pushed up blood

murmurs trough my eyes

by a gnawing evil force

a slightly suppressed feeling

still i must be going

Haste drives me over these plains

dried up riverbeds

and breaking branches

the first hedge drops

splashing on starving flowers

it ...

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