2525

filtered sunlight caresses
chalk hearts on mag(net)ic pavement
and i salute those rebel kids
for still knowing
how to play

there is a myth, clinging helplessly
to the bare branches of March
officially permitted
to drown in wifi waves –
stamped and notarized

life is in a hurry,
sporting business suits and clenched jaws
(get out of my way! no time, no TIME!!)
and i wonder
if there is a code in these fateful digits –
the true message:
2525.

Better late than Never, right?!

… since i failed to write a proper Halloween Poem for the special day, i decided to make it up to you. i wrote a somewhat ‘disturbing’ short story… finished a day late (due to lack of free time), but still ‘halloween-ey’.

look here… if you haven’t eaten yet: The Artist

enjoy… if you can. *evil cackle*

Happy (belated) Halloween!

Twisted Meat Medley

fateful hour
broken hands on broken clock;
skeleton crawls, languidly
back into mother’s womb –
the butcher draws near
on rubber-booted feet,
and when he raises his brow
in unison with his knife,
it is time
for remorseful chickens
to dance
the last dance.

What If…

what if
i forget?

my mind’s stronghold
no longer my own;
trapped
in time’s desert
where the last viscid thought clings
to dry river’s bed

what if
i forget?

the touch of loved ones;
no longer gentle to me
but omnious and fearsome,
strangers –
invading my life,
my privacy

what if
i forget?

my name
my thoughts
my words
and i stumble;
the face of dawn
no longer uplifting friend –
for i know
i will have to endure
another alien day
in an alien world

will i still
be a person
if i no longer exist
in my own mind?
.
.
.
what if…
i forget?

… Stuart over at dVerse has us writing about phobia/fear… come over and join a bunch of scared people at the bar! I definitely need a beer now…
____________________________________
photo credits: dropletsodillies.blogspot.com

Found

lost in the dark
the wanderer stumbles,
scrapes his knees –
feeling his way
through solitude’s poisonous thorns.

despair attempts to crush his heart
in its paralyzing grasp
and his tear-stained voice
echoes
through the emptiness.

the hidden form
of the silent moon
takes pity,
bathes the wanderer
in gentle light
and guides him, slowly
back to safer paths.

Slavery, decapitated.

trapped
under the torn and dirty nails
of immortal’s hand –
splinters dig deep,
tear long gashes
into the blinded’s bloody eye
while pus and tears
make a paste
on soot-stained bodies.

when squirming
and crawling
isn’t sufficient,
it is time
to wake
the warrior within.

The Drop

you already forgot
how it felt
to take the first clumsy steps
towards freedom

now
the mountain
towers over you
and you are
tumbling down its rough cheek,
deliberately.
hitting rocks and roots,
not even trying to take hold
but feeding the crows
with your
declared corpse.

Sleepless

alone at night
masks are off
and the soul
lies in the corner of the dank room
like a page of
crumpled paper
tossed out of sight
mildew
creeps up the walls
painting faces
bizarre
and horrifying

is it dawn yet?
so i can
retrieve
and
unwrinkle
my soul
wash off the filth
and move on?

The Sacrifice

the soldier he fell
to his knees and he screamed
clutching the dirt in his fist

his eyes gaping holes
burnt and blistered each day
from horrors, never meant to exist

empty shell of a friend
all marred and charred
glowing ashes, next to his form

he dared not to look
for the pain was too great
the aftermath, a raging cold storm

so he steeled his mind
and cut out his heart
to bury it, there in the ground

he covered it up
and then got to his feet
to face the next demon, no sound

Distorted

the entrance of the beast
once revealed
you cringe
and struggle

molten
rotten
false
the smell of decay
burns your nostrils

you have no choice
step
after step
after step
wading through the filth and grime
until you find
the gem
the one true core
hidden
in the abyss