Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Do you hear that calling, in the midnight hour,
Can you hear the lonesome crying, of bitter tears so sour,
Far away from this place, kept by the unseen,
The restless King of hearts, awaits his absent Queen,
Her throne is cold without her, and his heart the same,
Nobody understands, their constant toil and pain,
They mask themselves to outside eyes, to hide their suffering,
These are the days of the healing Queen, and her broken King.
I have no light,
It does not shine within me,
This globe has no power,
This diode will not emit,
I have no light,
Until you flick the switch.
I sit upon my own doom-laden eve,
Nothing seems solid, nothing is usual,
Everyone seems disinterested, or ignorant,
Zero communication breeds hostility,
An anger builds due to anxiety,
It takes nothing to acknowledge, lift your game,
A lesson is learned, those who should matter don’t,
Expect a comparative reply, lesson result = fuck you!
All the tech in the world cannot fix the fucking rude.
There is a hollowness deep inside,
A place I crawl into when I need to hide,
Where nothing can emotionally affect me,
It’s a safe numb place that no one can see,
Something activates behind my eyes,
And another me removes his flimsy disguise,
While I’m curled up within in my hollow place,
The other me now owns my face,
He’s uninterested in what you have to say,
He feels nothing for what you wish to convey,
He is my protector, he’s my defensive shield,
Guarding the inner me while I’m being healed,
Until a change within fills this hollow space,
There’ll be no emotion, there’ll be no embrace,
He’s insincere, his actions are purely robotic,
He’s a wall, dividing me from a world so chaotic,
Someday the colour will return to my eyes,
The other me will fade, once the chaos subsides,
Leaving me present again, with no need to hide,
Within the Keep of Hollowness, that I’ve built inside.
Who’ll be there to pick me up when I fall,
This is a question that the anxious call,
When it all feels too much to bear,
When happiness only brings despair,
When the mind races and the heart beats panicked pain,
And the body is held a hostage by its very own brain,
There’s nobody to pick me up when I fall,
So, from under the weight of things, it will be me who’ll crawl,
But not until heartache runs its painful course,
And anxiety has drunk her fill, without remorse.
Bright blue lights fill a darkened room,
Cool air flows from air conditioning,
The injured lay prone, away from the burning sun,
A swell of music creates a dreamlike state,
Eyes remain closed in this quiet healing moment,
Pink Floyd asks a crazy diamond to shine on,
The injured oblige, trying to block out the pain,
With a cold drink and two sleeping hounds at hand,
A sleeping bride breathes deeply in a nearby bedroom,
The injured drifts in and out of consciousness,
The summer heat outside is held at bay for now.
The serenity of this moment will soon be over.
I am not the night,
I am not the morning light,
I am not the earth beneath,
I am not the hope you seek,
I am unseen, yet everywhere,
I am he of greying hair,
I am one for whom no one cares,
I am just another statistic,
From a generation born fatalistic.
X
Why does part of me always seek the harshest of feelings,
Why am I not content when I’m at rest, the peace never visits for long,
It is though my mind actively seeks out negative pathways,
Rather than remain quiet, stay at rest, be calm and content,
Instead, a pursuit haunts my sleep, and affects my waking day,
I don’t like it, I don’t want it, but it’s there,
I seek comfort in the hunt for objects that bring me pleasure,
An obscure part of my mind knows I’ll soon be unable to attain them,
So, I collect, I stockpile, I obsess, I spend, I hunt further,
Everything is recorded, everything is placed in correct order, all but me,
I foresee darkness on my horizon, and I fear the grey days that it will place me in,
I’m unsure I have the strength left to again walk that long hard road back to the light,
I don’t want that feeling, but it is inevitable.
I resent the persistence of time, and the silent murders that it commits,
Time is never held accountable, it has no day in court to answer for its crimes,
Lifespan, not death itself, that is the real ticking time-bomb of the mind,
There is no going back, just a subtle pushing forward from unseen hands,
Dark days are coming, I don’t want them, but they are inevitable.
Two rivers born of a sister star,
Are parted by green mountains far,
At great distances, they remain aware,
Timeless is the love, that they both share.
The rivers will still flow, after both stars fall,
An endless journey through time they’ll crawl,
Finding peace in their waters ebb and flow.
For time means nothing to the bond they know.
Although the rivers meet and part too soon,
They are connected by the very same moon,
Up in night skies, where sister stars shone,
They are two rivers divided, but they flow as one.
They will meet again, when their journeys are done,
Leaving behind creeks and streams, that forever will run,
Into the ocean’s great mouth, where all good rivers flow,
Together finding peace, beneath the moon’s nightly glow.
- For my cousin Kristy
Two hearts bound by a family tie,
Each one a cousin, that lands divide,
Tho farewelled tears fall in silent times,
Our eyes remain young, as old age chimes.
Many past lives I’ve lived within this one,
Other Me’s living with different people,
Calling other houses my home,
Other Me’s with different pets, and pastimes,
And another with a young family, or a teen family,
I now find myself here, at the sum of all those Me’s,
Is this current life my final version,
Will this be the last Me anyone will see,
Or am I at the precipice of the next Me arriving,
Who knows, I live day by day now, and I rarely plan,
Because in the blink of an eye, I could be another man.
He could be kinder and wiser, or cruel and mean hearted,
Only one thing is certain,
I’ll never again become the Me where I started.
Dan Verkys 