Wordsmith In Hiding

Hidden sun 

Broken land 

Haunted dreams 

Trembling hands 

Our spirits crushed 

The fight decided 

We walk through the fields 

Where blood and bone 

Lay ignited 

Slave, Servant, 

Animal and scum 

These be the names 

They gave everyone 

Void of compassion, 

Mercy and respect 

They beat us through 

Despite how we wept 

And late at night 

Fueled by lust 

They came at leisure 

And defiled all of us 

And yet somehow 

We find strength to stand 

Looking to you 

To hold out your hand 

But why should you 

Leave the warmth of your family 

Or the shelter of your home 

To save a stranger 

Only the media has known? 

And it is through this reasoning 

That you loaded the gun 

That they use to abuse 

Why is it so, 

That all poetry be 

Of love and lust, 

Grieving and mistrust, 

Why is happiness and solace 

Not inspiration enough, 

To spur on a poet, 

Artist, 

Amateur, 

Or novice, 

To put pen to paper, 

And avoid the lure 

Of emotional turbulence, 

And gross exaggeration, 

And instead speak of 

In my youth I dreamt, And romanced, Even revered, Visions and aspirations Of me a gentleman, In future years, But now I have aged, Time has passed, My pure soul Withered, As innocence doesn’t last

I stand at crossroads, Where each route I take, Has unacceptable outcomes Affections I must forsake, No inclination or notion Of where to turn, I remain lost And in love, While the hearts of others, Still burn

As fear comes alive, Nightmares turn true, Lovers turn deaf To the promises they spew, As through the scars they leave, Like penniless thieves, The reap forth the fruit Of the the unrequited seed, With limits boundless, And direction lost, They fed their happiness With humanity as a cost

Absence, It is said, Makes the heart grow fonder, Absent minds however Never made anything stronger, But days alone Now turn to years, And faith ferments Into newfound fears, And after all The hollow smiles And empty promises, I sit and wonder, If you love me, Any longer

Love is lost, Trust is broken, As our lives drag on Wounds will open, Tears into streams, Smiles into nothing, Finally the warmth dies out, With words unspoken

Despite all this darkness, I hold out my hand, As if expecting the future I foolishly planned

Fiery reds, calming blues, Magical pinks and orangey hues, Colours, bright and sharp Light up the sky, Painting a picture, Catching my eye

The artistry and flow Of the colours in use, Intrigues my mind, Letting my imagination loose, Until the darkness arrives, Taking its cue, To cover the sky, In a studded blanket of blue

Brought into this world Filled with flames and power, Yet free from sin, A perfect flower. But through your journey, A finite time, Mountains are present, Mountains, you must climb, For no matter how great They may seem, Or large they may grow, Inside you, A river flows, Of the purest energy, And brightest light, But darkened choices, Will blacken it’s might.

Through the mirror

I see it, 

A chasm of darkness

Or the depths of Tartarus, 

A well of soulless despair, 

And in this will grow, 

The seeds to show, 

The route to the 

Devils Lair.

For in my hand, 

I hold a dagger, 

Its splendour bathed in red. 

Infront I see

Further behind, 

The man 

Whose soul

I shed.

So see me now God, 

bear witness to my sin, 

And in your mercy, 

Strike me down if you will, 

As to catch my Love, 

Her Love did I still, 

And now

my heart,

Flowers,

Leaves,

Trees,

Unfurling themselves, 

To be free

Of Winters grasp, 

And its killing freeze.

And so as the Sun's

Reaches,

Further increases,

And warms this

Grey stone city, 

The trees come alive, 

Showing colours inside, 

And from their slumber

I look into its 

Beady eyes, 

A hallowed place,

Where a fire's died, 

A once proud creature 

Found alone, 

A mass of muscle 

And sinew,

Now cold stone.

Upon its head, 

Rests a crown

Of twirling, 

Curling,

Twisted bone, 

A mantle piece 

to natures throne. 

But now it lies,

Deadbeat

Still as water, 

Its struggle over, 

And so as you 

Take apart, 

Natures bravest

Heart,

Think of your part,  

In the start, 

Red lines, 

Hard and straight, 

No time to argue, 

No time for debate, 

And so we go on

Scratching and scrawling, 

Predicting our worth

From a magnitude of drawings, 

With markings and labels, 

Notes and tables, 

Slowly filling our heads, 

With all but fables. 

And so comes the day, 

Where we each take our place, 

At a given time and a given date

Predicted by some logic fate, 

So that we may

Test our sanity 

And remaining humanity, 

In these tests, 

Of clarity. 

And we trudge on

Through life

The same, unchanged, 

Except for our values, 

From which came

Our fame and glory

Or blameful stories, 

Each moving to death,

A floral ocean

Of waves red, blue, yellow, and green, 

All swaying in beat, 

Like a tide of rainbows,

A rooted sea. 

And while each thread

In this tapestry from nature, 

Will grow and take their stead 

Amongst the rest, 

They are be blessed

With ignorance, 

Of the forthcoming tests. 

And so let them be, 

Let them taste, 

Let them see, 

Let them love, 

Let them care, 

Let them take, 

Let them break, 

Let them do all 

And nothing, 

Because the day when they leave, 

Is when you will finally see, 

The skies are grey, 

The skies are blue, 

The skies are red, 

The skies are anew, 

This constant change 

In the colour of the sky,

The heat of the day,

The length of the night,

Does all but slight 

The beauty I sight 

Within your eyes, 

In which lies, 

The story of a thousand loves, 

And their thousand cries.

Yet you remain oblivious

To this red emotion, 

And so it will be 

As I stand and stare

Affected by no other