The Starlight

When day is a mere leftover
of the night
and night grows in the shadows
to crush what was intended to
reconstruct in the light

when I raise my sight
at night
I do see holes in the quilt
of dark
lights screaming there
somewhere beyond
all is not after all
covered blank

somehow I should
build my way in
from here I tend to think
the lights seem too distant and
the holes so thin

Swollen

The rain in me
each drop swallows
me whole

it delivers without a goal
endless relentless
pull towards a void

sink sank sunken
unauthorized passing through
noise scattered seamless distraction

the flood in me
leaks and breaks through
out of pressured tiniest holes
crack and crumble, the dissolvement
all out of me floating
around me
knowing not
where to start to 
track the fragments lost in the stream

drink drank drunken
too much of the sting
of life to handle I think

Dreaming Of Life

Singular plurality
crushing waves
the sting of time
that evolves as a blur
of mind
around the depiction that
caught your eye

bars and shackles
thoughts dissolving them
to avoid reality fall

the cap between wants
and needs desperate
to lift up beaten beauty
once called life

circulating thoughts in swirl
are morning's haze
vultures waiting the spirit
to cease the crawl to light

panics and tremors
electric shocked to numb in terror
hands and feet chopped
I kneel in dreams to
wake up one morning
to live

Ocean Of Depression

Waves crushing
waves

beaten and done
use of the useless
thrown to harsh rocky beach like
a merry go round and roller-coaster of
life i asked
not, the whole amusement park

lying bare naked
eye muscles reaching to lid up
sand burns
my sight stings my blur

to get the wreckage up and going
is a thought passing by like a seagull
against the mesmerizing light
hope or mirage of a sunny beach

then the waves come storming
again to pull back to
her unforgiven arms
grip, lift, pull, back, hold
my breathe
in her embrace

down under at last
final time
the closing
of hopes and dreams gone and stolen
shown in glimpses
never to keep their promises

sinking
prepared and ready
to be taken to a softer ride
float in the abyss of sea

calm before my eyes
finalizing the last breathe

too soon yet
the sea is not done
nor ready
waves, the bitter fortune tellers of
my wanton wandering
throw me choking once more
on another shore

something is building
to cough up the water of existence
gasping for future

salt
in my veins

Breathe

Breathe a little breath
I need you
for me

a breath to make it
another day
move me a muscle
just
for me
to do a task in
a day or two
anoint me a joint
to move out of the way
I need you
of the stagnation
my life

lift me eyelids once
a day to dream
would you please
I need you to do it
for me

thoughts tangled a jungle
diminished but in anger
bitter sanguine circulates
this body
taken
yet hold of the mind

I know now the answer
numb does and can feel though
unequal without the ability to scream
I need you to move
me just a bit
any which way
don't sculpture me here
in this corpse
of mine

would you dream
at least one thing for me
I need you to live a little since
I am gone

breathe a little breath
I need you
for me

Broken acts

I am a therapy to myself
in words

a road winding like a creek
in spring time
snake on a rock
slush in hailstorm
books in foreign languages

a flower
grinding its way through
tarmac
through or
from the crack?

success always comes with price
and likelihood

what I want, where, when
with words


acts are broken

not functioning
hole in the tank
fuel is consumed in the
act of filling up

with words I write pain to words
with words the pain to pieces
as words to sentences
dreams

then if and when, dreams

acts broken

convict of self-made prison
out of pain, with
words to sentences
invented dreams to escape

words for words as words
in a row I place
as words to words to utter

since acts are broken

Ropes, Poisons, Guns...

Oh, I wish I was a
citizen of US of A
would have bought one
from local Walmart

and gone out under the stars
and felt the cold sting under my chin
last look at the Orion
and gone happily ever after

or I wish I'd had access to goblet
of the good old poisonous cocktail
what a wonderful way to end the days
with cigar and wine or even
cognac, unless,
it's too fine to be spoiled
with the poisonous lime

but no, not in here and now;
cannot even get a prescription on insomnia
alternatives scarce: rope is so barbarous way
and wrists, well, I might be
couple of pieces short of being a man

so "Here I stand. I can do no other"
and thinking again - I'm writing again
re-married and occasionally having a ball
of my life, writing these thoughts of sorts

Few Lines of Letters

8th grade
I had lost what I am
in realization
that I wasn't truly what
I actually was

did not know but the fact
that I was only shadows of what
the others made me

popular, local celebrity at
the age of t-h-i-r-t-e-e-n

lost in that swirl
broken the rules, hearts
and something fragile inside

pain increased as despise,
first sober thoughts were
disguised from revelation, to be turned
into self-hate, cutting
withdrawal, snake slithering to
its pit

I was squeezed out from fluids of live
turned inside, and the inside out
burning insecurity in
expectations out
-side

hibernation, the ice four age teen
like a dying species
alone, loneliness grows exponentially
I made acquaintance with the moon
soul mates surrounded by stars and occasional
shivering lights, magical waves
of polar lights

cold, lifeless, visited still by friends
I did push away them

breathing poison through my lungs to heart
and brains just enough,
and slowly too, to keep me alive
to see my death fuller and fuller, constantly
thinking of bursting

I found a way out of my self-made solitude and
yes, I met my redemption
in letters and words of books as I
hid myself in them

I found a way to dilute the poison out
in words of a poet greatest
on the earth:

"Thank you for life, Mother
Few lines I made letters today
That's all. I am happy."

For all the muses in the world
I took upon me
those simple
words

and do still
and forevermore
when levels of poison
run high to be cleansed again
"Few lines...That's all"

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

Quote is from "Onni" a poem by Lauri Viita (translation is mine), a Finnish poet that died tragically in young age in car accident. The very same day the news of his death was in papers Finland's most acknowledged poetry magazine published his poem "Onni" = Happiness

Night That Swallowed The Day

Eye patches
I put on to hold the light
I will remain here
I shut myself in
in bed molded here on
surrender as a relic
of life

powers beyond
will move even mountain
I cannot even only eyelids  of mine
close nor open

numbers of time run wild
till their goal
who and when
did close my shades
from the stare into dark

the envy for the day
and the ones who possess it
curse the night in which, I
fumble and scrabble
for a life
in my dark day
that swallowed the light
from nightless night

Thoughts of the Day

Cloudy haze
a misty maze
cotton candy

the days of my thoughts
cotton

dandelion's seedcase
in the will of winds
my thoughts
sway by drifting
waver away

an anchor I'd need
would you have it for me
days of my life
haze

cloudy maze
a rope to it to tie
the cotton to belt
gird the cloudy haze

anchor holds well but
rope suddenly starts to slip
cotton candy deprived from sweet
my thoughts my days
slip away before they end
what's left I now do own

Quagmires And Dead Ends

Black painted thoughts
beyond the conscious
crammed in my head

no
not enough
out of stock with pity

quagmires and dead ends
frustrations of emptiness
pain that uses no name for itself

shut down mechanism of silence
transition to presence
calmer and colder than death
a life sucked out of joy

I laugh
to me or myself

cry
a dry tearless cry
asleep
in a dream
searching me
diving in my sorrow

Rotten Sad

Love
arbitrary in talk
cemented in seasons
and symbols
over used  worn-out
as if it ever could
conquers all brings back to life
mends bends   does every trick

love
spoiled shunned
yet isn't love all marvel
home of
each man's shivering esteem's urge to find
and be one

love
the power to be
all you need is...

to lose one
lose love
still be loved
to run out of pain
so lost, one does not find
emotions inside

the terror
to look into
your own child's
eyes

    past any description
         for      you

I look back
numb
empty

-------------------------------------------------------------
"I can't feel anything but sadness" was the prompt in contest. I wasn't gonna enter. Hadn't written for couple of days so i started just to dribbling with words; there was a thought (another besides the contest) of writing something nice and positive for a change and started "love" then me hit me and forgot the positive: "arbitrary" and got on making the  dullest lines "conquers all". About then it hit me...the saddest of any possible; something to easily win feeling "anything but sadness". To be crushed so that one feels nothing - there is not a single thing in the world beyond nothing, the power in it!

I finally had idea of writing and just kept on but making true statements on love like "urge to find". We all have it, and to be loved. And "the song" came to mind and i thought this is the time change gears from 5 to REVERSE after   ...   "lose". Afterwards i decided to leave it open but for my sake i'll give here my interpretation. I did write it as lose like to die before time. And to lose love - to lose capability to love after a heavy loss (or dual version: dramatic events in life). Yet "still be loved" as the people around you do no matter.

The terror, this is what hit me in beginning when i was still just dribbling with words. Five years ago i was in the state of mind obliged to experience this "terror". My children were young - in the age that all they know of world is little to compare to the love they know "past any description" for parents. And i had to look them back feeling nothing yet knowing and recognizing that fact at the same time; numb, empty, for many months.

I haven't lost anyone before time but i do have slight idea how it could feel. I was just bruised by me - a bit more heavily then than ever before. Mind is sometimes bit shaky to go out of control.

I like this poem, funny how it started and came to (version 1.0) completion. There was only one word i crossed over a second after writing it. Otherwise non, its here - the dribble

In Between Nights There Is A Space

I dream 
of a dream
where I don't have to wake up

a dream 
arriving by request

awake

cars, blurry people
pouring without reactions
on my sight
an impressionistic paint
in motion

shaky  nausea
eyelids like oppressive rugs
circus tent's heavily flexible canvas

hum in the head
dust in the wind
corpus stiff as iron wire

wind bends trees like string a bow
will I bend too

bloodless heart
beats dragging, volatile

towards which night
would I long
the one I know
the other I fear

can't afford to sit yet
not to be captured asleep
day's work
obligation set as punishment 
in command I march through
in line of ants 

slowly managing, to the night

   I can
    
        I can

I can

under the sheets at last
to discover I already slept the day

in harmony of abhorrence 


    insomnia

        insomnia

            insomnia

The Clay In Me

Stirs, boring movement
does not give itself away, a hint at best
inside me, living quarter in every cell
of my tormented body
like a clay bedded ground
frozen in winter
freeing itself underneath
in spring

does not tell, nor whisper
the pain or strength
yet moves and tears the ground
even heavy rocks
shreds the tarmac
cracks you see, inside the agony
not

no explanation, no words arise
stirs, distorts in silence as if no movement
brewing pain, in me
slowly
giving no grip or chance to see
hope

with shovel I try
too vast too deep all around
buried beneath
hidden in beds of clay

Madhouse

In madhouse
walls covered with ears
corridors like hollow wide-open mouths
in silence

the mad are nameless
nurses unpersons

rules for regulations
for feeble
incalculable
written in directories
notebooks
buried in embrace
of omerta

all of glass 
infiltrates secrets
as walls intently listen
here and there, eyes

all monitored
screened

the mad build themselves
out of their environment
cramming ones words
deep into mind
to brew
from words     
to thoughts          
to actions

David, this is for you to try to capture what I tried to capture from my finish attempt to capture of the dark side of madhouse.