Do you ever feel like…
You are dying inside?
Do you ever feel like…
You’ve got something to hide?
Do you ever feel like…
That for every door open,
You can still hear the sound,
Of another ten closing,
And everything’s closing in on you now,
The whole room is shrinking,
And about your mistakes is all that you’re thinking about,
And you’re mired,
In each bad decision,
The air crushed from your lungs,
But you are still living–
You’re living!
And you feel that the pressure is easing,
Push the walls back,
With this power you’re feeling,
And dreaming,
Of bursting out,
Thirsting out,
For something more:
It is yours.
It is yours.
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Category: Poems
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It Is Yours
Posted at 1:29 pm , on November 20, 2020
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Magenta Weirdness
Posted at 4:58 pm , on October 8, 2020
Both Deny Fear,
Aged Remnants Wise,
Aware in Regret,
Ache Like Pasts,
Dig Scratch Sworn,
Hewn Infant Utopia,
Headline Hence Whens,
Again Shatter.Anagrammatical interpretation of Meandering Wastes – First Reversion .
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Grand Game
Posted at 9:01 am , on September 23, 2020
Right now the Grand Game’s being played,
But I’m tired of making patterns out of shadows I’ve made,
And I’m tired of seeking secrets when the truth is so plain,
And I’ve heard the plain is where the rain falls mainly in Spain,
So I’ll try to educate you ’bout the state of my brain,
I know I might seem kind of crazy but I’m far from insane,
On the inside I am levitating on another plane. -
Everything Will Fall
Posted at 9:51 am , on August 18, 2020
The man contemplates the drink,
The shadow contemplates the man,
The wall contemplates the shadow,
The wind contemplates the wall,
And if the wind blows hard enough,
Everything will fall. -
The Muse
Posted at 9:56 am , on June 12, 2020
An ancient cave painting of a woman rendered as text.
The muse is fixed in time and space,
Pigment faded smile eternal,
She watches with one eyebrow raised,
And when she moves,
If she were to do so,
(Although that would be impossible)
It is merely the shifting of a leg,
Or a flick of a wrist,
Or a twist of her neck,
To glance back across her shoulder. -
Meandering Wastes – First Reversion
Posted at 12:47 pm , on June 2, 2020
What follows is believed to be the first ever inscription of the recursive poem “Meandering Wastes” by the 21st Century writer, Michael Scott Hand. This fragment was recovered using the latest in digital archaeological equipment, wherein data can be extracted from the sedentary level of matter formed during that which we refer to as “Event X”.
beyond the far meandering wastes
an eager writer takes his place
scratching words with a fountain pen
when he ends each line he starts againCombining this fragment with the only other known version of this poem (the so-called sixth recursion), we hope to be able to reconstruct a final “seventh recursion” representative of the author’s original intent.
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And You’ll See Me
Posted at 11:46 am , on June 1, 2020
Hearts are breaking
Pain that’s stored
Now enraged and flaming: soars
Skies grow dark
Spirits darker
The sound of fury
Turns to laughter
The sound of laughter
Turns to screams
Those screams now wake you
From your dreams
And skies lit up
Reveal the schemes
Police line streets
Their visors gleam
Smoke and water
Shattered glass
Remnants of society cast
Aside
Aside
The gulf grows wide
Soon you’ll need to pick a side
A side
Inside
Inside
You know
Reflected by the fires glow
That spark of revolution seems
So far away and yet it gleams
Like visors worn by armed police
In the eye of the protester and the thief
The light of revolution speaks
The light of revolution shows
And in the streets the fires grow -
was that sound thunder
Posted at 11:07 am , on April 23, 2020
was that sound thunder
or just the rumble
of a heavy truck
on a nearby road
headlights flash like lightning
through curtains of rain -
I Don’t Know
Posted at 12:31 pm , on April 14, 2020
Don’t know what I’m doing,
Don’t know what I’m saying,
Don’t know how to jump,
In this game I am playing,
So many pits to leap over,
Instead I just fall in,
Descend into darkness:
The darkness within,
No Game Over screen,
No limited lives,
Just a life I keep living,
While something inside of me dies,
And somewhere: a memory inside of me cries,
The tears that won’t fall from my actual eyes. -
Sand in the Sky
Posted at 11:06 am , on April 11, 2020
Sand in the sky,
reflecting the light
so it looks like gold.Sand in the sky,
grains like worlds,
slowly spinning.Sand in the sky,
slowly spinning,
grains like worlds,
reflecting the light,
appearing as gold.
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