Taste the fear

The earth raised beneath me
logic was unclear
the only thing for certain was,
that I could taste the fear.

A mile away, I just can’t say
I turned to see my home
remarkable, still standing
a vision, made from stone.

No pain, nothing…
but unsupportable loss.

Flung through the air
slowing down the motion
with plenty of time to stare.

A man can be reached
when clearly in the breach
a quick reflection of the soul
then becomes a primary goal
especially,
when sounds begin to screech.

Then it slipped away
all the air was gone
leaving me at bay.

Choking, spitting spewing
left sitting in a hole
nothing left around,
but little chunks of coal.

Inflating breast
to expand command
no point in sitting there
with nothing left, worth a stare
didn’t really give a dam
just being honest with you there.

The only thing for certain was,
I couldn’t bloody well hear
but I sure as hell could taste the fear.

Languish

Dizzy - walking off the line
like a heavy fog
I no longer see the signs.

Through the gate
like an off kiltered weight
balanced undefined
swinging…on hinges
unfocused in my mind.

A creak, a groan
an occasional moan
left with cornered thoughts
while sitting all alone.

Languishing with visions
in this palatial mind
compartmentalized
broken and divided
filled with echoes never heard
nor words defined.

In this mind, I languish
and pine away…
yearning for a life I bought
with my underpinning thoughts
besotted and with fears
as I languish in my ways
for those much more
simpler days.

SHATTERED

You stood glaring
through a glass plate window
watching from behind.

Then you shattered me
and walked on by
knowing you’d be fine.

A distorted life
of rippled panes
thinking...I would never
be the same
I should have seen
the signs.

I was but a platform
for you within a bed
never understanding
all the pains you caused
while standing on my head.

Everybody suffers
but why'd you take my soul
it wasn't yours, but mine
now I have no choice
I’ll have to find rewind.

You know you did
you shattered me
choked me with your shards
but like you, I’ll find a way
to spit you out
discarding what you say
and unplug you, from my mind.

Then I’ll walk away.

This fattened bowl

Written for Potluck Monday – theme; 7-sins (http://www.jinglepoetry.blogspot.com)
========================
This fattened bowl,
but a juicy peach in life,
ripe with everything,
within hands reach.

All is mine,
they shall not touch,
greedy bastards,
they have so much.

But I have a harem,
 if you will,
a craving, a pleasure
such succulent delights
for those minutes,
when the yearning strikes.

I’ll lounge about,
and drink it in,
who are they to say I sin,
I devour life, and always win.

I’ll be the talk of town,
the rest, those fools,
those clowns,
they can all watch with envy.

But beware,
if they choose to scorn me,
they shall despair,
my vengeance, like a viper,
swiftly through the air,
and my wrath....
they shall bear.

A Bell Rung

I draw my hand down,
upon the tower’s rope,
a flicker of my eyes
a chime of hope.

Upon the bells ring,
upon the first note,
releasing thoughts
as the echo’s float
down the sea of walls
bouncing through…
the hallowed halls.

Reverberating sounds
like a weighted crown
heavy in my throat
the words sinking, a deathly
feeling, of growing bloat,
wrapping round the corners
a moat between the castle drowns.

Once rung, the twist of fate, like
a chickens neck be wrung,
it cannot be undone.

The voice of chimes, have struck a wall,
compressing, swinging round to
pummel me… is all
swooshing back, throughout the lanes
hitting me, with tremendous pains.

I draw my hand down,
upon the tower’s rope,
now left to deal with all the notes,
…the chimes,
which have left my mind.

Free floating, ever on the winds
of time, never under my control
or thoughts again;
no longer mine….
these chimes.

Sand

I lay there, feet in sand
hands buried in thought
turning grains of time.

Eroded bits, slipping
off my mind, grumbling
to the dance and pounding
of the age-old waves,
as the sea rushes in.

Ticking, one single grain
slipping through, my fingers
quartz crystals,
the hourglass of time.

Drenched in brine
white foam, flushing mind
pockets underneath,
collapsing, by one piece…
a grain at a time
slithering away, with the tide,
backwash of the sea, and mine.

I lay there, feet in sand
hands buried in thought
turning grains of time.

Life, washing thoughts back to sea
giving time back, by
polishing my soul and me.