The Unchosen Ones

I keep a little graveyard of dreams
Snug under a hillock deep inside my heart
Every so often it grows
Howbeit I am glad because
For every cross I add to it
Three other dreams thrive above
Roots thrust deep
Drinking from the rich ground
Fertilised by the Unchosen Ones.

Nyctophilia

What is sleep?

Sleep is but rest

A time to regenerate

To heal

To shrug off all the troubles

The hustle and bustle

That vex and worry in the day

What is sleep?

The surrender of the consciousness

The release of the iron bands 

That enslave the mind and heart

To duty

And honour

And love

And image

What if I told you that

sleep could be done without sleep

that

restoration was possible

without the shallow

superficial meaningless and vain

form of sleep that most

people succumb to

what if

the mind was truly the master

and the body the slave

and regeneration was all about the mind

not about the body

and if being awake at night was all the healing

that I need

then my healing would be in the form of

the embrace of darkness

free of all the problems that the day brings

and I can be free to agonise over things

that I cannot during the day

because I must look confident

and brave

and manly

and cool

and all the things that society and family and friends demand and expect of a typical someone my age

things that would make me fail all of the above requirements

what if I told you the night sets me free

to lose myself in my personal pursuits

to lose myself in my insignificance

to lose myself in my non-existence

the me that cannot exist in front of everyone else

what if darkness allowed me to wander my own paths

beyond boundaries no one has known

beyond horizons others have denied to me

to learn

to work
to mourn

to build

to be

what if the even's darkness was nothing more 

than a blotting paper

for my own darkness inside

darkness that grows within during the day when the windows 

of my soul are shut

and the curtains drawn

so no one can see inside

what if that was my rest

what if that was my healing

what if I love the darkness

what if I am night incarnate

No road

Sitting in the darkness

Waiting for the moon

Because the sun refuses

to grant this boon

Mind like a dusty road

Questions racing full throttle

Dark skies groaning with watery load

Dripping from dashed bottle

The compass spins wildly

Wind roaring in the yards

The seaspray hisses sourly

and bursts in briny shards

Drifting without rudder

Sails tattered, ropes frayed

Prays the sailor

All hope allayed.

Friendship Fornever

You don't lose friends, they say

Only find who your real friends are

Perhaps it's when everyone goes away

Yourself you may discover

For friends too are human

and their needs must be met

from consolation to encouragement

"It's gonna be alright," "You're not fat."

Sometimes you're so caught up with others' burdens

You forget your inner twin

while you liberate them from torments

Your own house falls into ruin

masks we wear even with soulmates

walls of steel around our hearts

frustrations, duels of the fates

secrets and desires and whiplash smarts

the storms of the soul that havoc wreak

no one can comprehend, not the closest friend

not the briny blasts upon the cheek

nor the scythes that rip and rend

Collection of short poems #2

when daybreak shatters over skies of grey
and death lurks amidst troubled slumbers
the wild silence howls along the thorny way
casting crimson blood upon frozen embers

--------------------------

the ocean's on fire
melting the sky to stone
and we against the wire
fighting our war alone

--------------------------

Yes I'm running on empty
But when my tank goes dry
Who cares
I'll run on air instead

I am a leaf on the wind
Watch me soar

This exhaustion will pass
And only I shall remain

A greater me

--------------------------

loneliness is a journey in strength
failure a journey in perseverance
the dark night is a journey in faith
people are a journey in patience

if I go down, I'm going down fists swinging wildly, blood racing, and kicking arse

--------------------------

Troubles, troubles, come my way
You'll pass, but I'm here to stay

--------------------------

The sable sky hearkens
to the cock's crow and pales
the horizon's water glistens
and hushes the night gales

--------------------------

Dreams fading in the distance
Through clouded eyes of tears
Dusty mirages and windwashed visions
and whispers in my ears
The path falters
Staggers, falls
As death dashes its waters
Against the dead-end wall.

--------------------------

treasure heart

somewhere inside of me
there is a chest of fears
somewhere inside of me
there is a bottle of tears

here is a wellspring of hope
there a stream of joy
mountains of care
and depths of despair

I am a cluttered treasure map
X marks my heart
maybe someone someday
will find the way
without falling to each and every trap
scattered unmarked on this bloodstained chart

Collection of short poems

wake up to soft strains of dancing water
to the rain-glazed window my heart leaps
opening to a dying storm's last throes
on my face dawn's musky breeze

--------------------------

raindrops dancing in the cool night air
glittering in streetlights' gentle glare
eagerly they knock at my windowpane
"come out and play with us in the rain"

--------------------------

summer rain, so short, so fast
like a passing train in a windy breeze
furious and loud, too brief to last
no more strength than a maiden's sneeze 

--------------------------

phantom limbs refuse to go away
keenly felt, though unseen
like painful memories of yesterday
through heartstrings merrily ripping

--------------------------

Let the heavens' weight on my shoulders lie
Standing tall, my sapphire load a-bearing high
That man may yet give hope to those who would try
"Go for your dreams, reach for the sky!"

--------------------------

the rainbow's brilliant colours mourn
and sorrowful rain-tears stream
for why from each other
they ask, are we asunder torn
from the sunbeam
we once were?

--------------------------

Autumn leaf on the forest floor
Bent, broken, betrodden
The cold wind holds ajar the door
Through which dancing snowflakes beckon