I’ve cracked the sky’s black heart 🖤 Calling forth thundering spring by tailoring in the howling winds. Clawing the Earth with Thor’s strength and drenching the souls with floods from the sea beds. While you sit in anger over your past lovers, I storm through and own the whole damn sky! There’s a reason why they name Hurricanes, Cyclones and Tornado storms after people. A destruction so beautiful, they make art out of it.
Beautiful hues of pink and yellow seeping through your pores, you astonish me with shades of gold. Purple and blue slide from the corner of your eyes, watching you at all the right times. Like a glazed fire; you look grand to the high skies. Even if it’s brief for a few moments of glory, only to fall below the horizon down. So far, you can only fly to it and you are so close, you could fly to it.
I’m trapped under this dome of blue, it holds my gaze while changing into different hues. Upon the brilliant starlight, I found the constellation of Hercules. Kissing the horizon, I’ve laid tracks in my head that will take me anywhere. Anywhere; but I can’t bring myself to take a step. I have unpacked my bag of fears, knowing it’s not worthy of the trip, while the dome of light still holds a grip. The dome cracks as light shines upon the darkest parts of my mind, allowing my cuts to be bandaged by the compassionate and kind. My truth to you will not be of ease for me, but in the end will be my ease for I came to you, my dome of light 💡
In the world of poetry, many poets have flung their words across the canvas and painted why the skies take after violent after dark. Marking their name across walls vibrating a bravura. While I double tap on their poetry reading words that echo through my mind. My pen has become arrogant and refuses to write. Poetry doesn’t come to the snobbish. Why do you pride yourself haughty, what have you written that’s so tidy? I’ve put down my pen for just a little while, so I can breathe a world into me that I can explore by ink. Think. It’s the new sexy! Ink. That’s always been amorous. 🖋📝🔏
Don’t forget to get away every once in awhile,
To lose yourself in a book.
Or in the streets behind your home,
Riding your bike into the sunset at the beach.
Sit on your front steps and count the cars passing by,
Lay on your roof and gaze up at the night sky.
Drive along backroads with the windows rolled down,
Listening to nothing but the sounds all around.
I hope you take the time to be alone,
To sort through the cluttered shelves of your heart.
I hope you take the time to be silent,
To close your eyes and just listen to your heart.
I hope you take the time to be still,
To quiet your mind and experience the beauty of simply being.
In a world that tells us we should always be connected,
on the go, and doing something worth sharing.
I hope you know it’s okay to disconnect, slow down, and keep some memories;
Between you and the moment you shared it with.
I know its the ‘gram with pictures that strike, but there more you can do than the 395 posts you’ve liked!
Rock, Paper & Scissors:
Rocks can weigh the paper down,
Like dead weight you lug around.
Paper covers the rock by constricting,
Like excuses you cover all your failings.
Scissors bend and fall apart,
Like the words that sting and stab the heart. It’s the worst game of Rock, Paper and Scissors; And we are still playing it!
So, this time I’ll be the stone,
as your paper crumples into folds.
Over my dead body you don’t need to be strong, I was wrong to hold you, just like love I erode.
This time I’ll be the paper,
as your sharpen your blades.
Cut me into pieces until your misery fades.
I’ll come back with just enough tape,
pretend like I’m the hero without a cape.
This time I’ll be the scissors, as your rocky exterior holds back your very soul. Crushing me with gravity of you black hole heart, I surrender to you, take me out and break me apart.
I want to take a deep breath and immerse,
Propel myself to your ocean floor
Where the darkness and the unknown
Has always existed but was never explored
I find comfort in the bottom of a swimming pool,
the streams of light overhead
quietly drinking in the water,
lapping at this microcosms feet.
The familiar weight
in my ears drowns out the noise,
The coolness against my soft skin
feels weightless and beautiful
the eventuality of breaking the surface
is almost sorrowful
No one can touch you here,
like a stone you sink slowly,
you are cut free from the ties
that have held you for so long
and just like the tiny bubbles
you’ll race towards the curving surface
and into the light
and realise you were never meant to breathe here.
Not long is left and you break through,
only wanting to escape
back to where everything
was so clear, and so simple.
But, although out of the water,
and into the hands of a new morning
the fingers still curl around your neck,
and you realise
you’ve been holding your breath for a long time
and you’re still holding it
And you wonder
if you’ll ever breath again.