Mental Block
It mocks me.
The ground up flesh
of a forest of trees
sits on my desk
and laughs at me.
Playing with my creative lust,
and tormenting my imaginative inability
to perform.
It pulls at my pen,
and urges
I let my ink flow
and fill the void
presented in my face,
but I cannot.
I would not know where to start,
block cramps me.
And still
the paper
sits on my desk
and laughs at me.
Until I can stand it no longer.
My pen becomes a sword,
stabbing and thrusting
at my merciless tormentor.
No longer caressing it,
but violating its purity
darkening the white,
determined to fill the page
so my mind can relax
and I can find peace.
Until, at last,
on the very last line,
when the page is filled
and my pen runs dry,
I am inspired.
understanding
to understand me
try not to read my mind
but study my words
and read between the lines
so many times
try to understand life
but I fall short of my answer
and I start to write
hoping to find the answer to a question
I’ve asked for so long
who am I to be
and where do I belong
in heaven or hell
or chained to this earth to exist no more
or to experience rebirth
and in the study of life
I have come to find
I have lived so long
and been completely blind
Pills, Beer, Matches and Blades
Empty bottles line the row
Empty cans fill the row
Brunt matches scatter the row
Broken blades cut the row
Pills were in the bottles
Beer was in the cans
Matches were once not used
Blades were from the razor
Looking at the row
Seeing her own body
Feeling nothing but misery
Having nothing but emptiness
Pills were put into her body
Beer was drunk up
Matches were burned on her body
Blades made the blood flow
All around her is blank
The tools all used up
Sitting in a pool of shadows
On the dark and winter night
Pills make her forget the pain
Beer tried to replace the pain
Matches burns away the pain
Blades make everyone else see the pain
Dizziness settles in
Absent mind is lost
The burning of the flesh
Mixes in the pool of blood
Pills give her an overdose
Beer gives her a hangover
Matches make some nasty scars
Blades leave trails over her body
See the pain that brought her here
Attempt to taste the flavour of pain
Try to hear the cry of pain
Sample the sound of living pain
Feel the pain she has felt
Pills, Beer, Matches and Blades
Seem to be the cause of death
Yet you and I know the truth
It was the pain, yes it was
Pills, Beer, Matches and Blades
Was the cry of self from the pain
You missed the clue of her demise
You and the others caused the pain and death
Unbreakable
Restless, sleepless
I sit by the window
undisturbed
or at least it appears
I’m fighting a silent battle,
captured within my soul
it weakens me
makes me dazed
an unbreakable pain
pounding in my head
if only it’d go away
Pretty baby
Like a hunter in the sky
I shall shoot down all my stars
Prance upon the musical keys
Blow the silent trumpet of wars.
Open the gate down the garden path
Stroll by the birds and the bees
The mulberries and daffodils,
Sing a song for pleas and glees.
Dress up in the sunflower dress
Dance around like a kid in spring
Forget worries, think only of games
But don’t lose the diamond ring.
Take a ride to my world
My pretty, lovely, pretty baby
Change the many shades of blue
To rainbows full of hopes and maybe.
Screaming
Start the chanting
Start the growing
Each day taken
My screaming loudens
You sit there counting
Till you beat me to the ground
And cover me with earth
So as each day worsens
I scream louder
And you keep counting
It’s funny how it started
When you said my name.
The Bluebirds, You and Me
Across the field,
Over the mountain,
Far as the eye can see;
Through the woods,
Under the fence,
Where could the bluebirds be?
Around the garden,
In the house,
No one but you and me;
By the pond,
Near the tree,
There they are, he and she;
Out of the yard,
Away in the sky,
Gone to say hi to a bee;
Below the clouds,
Beside the flowers,
So happy again to be free;
Gone to the world,
Can’t be found,
No one here but me.
She Writes
Hovering over the paper,
She writes.
To release, to reflect, to cleanse, to explore.
The pen and mind connect.
In a dance of creativity.
Her finger flow, her mind races,
With ideas and emotions.
She teases with perfection.
Tantalises with her images and visions.
She writes you into her world.
A journey to her soul.
Dreams and reality mix and mingle.
Exploring and touching unknown places.
She writes from need and hunger.
She releases a part of herself within each word.
Each sentence.
Enchants and pleasures you with each paragraph.
Drawing and pulling you in.
When the words are spent and her mind is free,
It’s over...
Until the next entry.