Do not look at me through your open window.
Do not gaze upon my flesh.
How many lions, before you, wish to eat me?
Surely do you jest?
Occupy the chair you coward,
Show to me your true face.
But I only need a mirror
A self portrait in its place.
An empty chair,
And on the stairs,
The man who wasn’t there.
You weren’t there again today,
That will change.
Perhaps someday you’ll go away.
Posted in Personal
Tagged chair, empty, eye, eyes, face, jest, lion, man, me, mirror, poem, poetry, window
This face on the ground
With debris all around,
If it had a mouth
What would it say?
If eyes, what would it see today?
The stealer of identity
A silencer of secrecy.
It becomes anyone and anything,
As swiftly as the past takes wing,
It can be everyone and no one.
And nothing and all blood.
There behind its simple facade,
It laughs, and pretends to be God.
Posted in Musing
Tagged blood, eyes, face, God, ground, identity, laugh, mask, poem, poetry, secret, wing
More and more he wanted to show,
How he hated the way I’ve grown
And lack of compassion shown,
But this dim light.
Here swallowing fear for so long,
The darkness has dimmed the sight
He once used to view hope.
And in it’s absence, he cried.
She wanted to love me more,
She said she could not before
I shed my despair. She says: “Just try!”
But I see no love in those eyes,
Stay down. The conductor waits,
To preform another movement.
I’ll try to guess what that is.
So tired of sitting.
So tired of sleeping awake.
Posted in Life (or something like it)
Tagged awake, conductor, darkness, despair, eyes, grown, love, poetry, sitting, sleeping, tired, waiting
Low lights speak your name.
The red and orange; no moonlight to dull them.
You wander nighttime streets through fog to see,
Or to not see. Why else by night?
A cradle of second sunrise,
If you make it you’ll be mine.
We shall see in time,
If these red lights stain your eyes.
Posted in Love
Tagged cradle, eyes, low light, moonlight, night, nighttime, orange, poetry, red, see, stain, street, sunrise, wander