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Reflection Upon FearI've searched for the arbitrary,
Found places abandoned to a plague,
Under restoration yet unrestored:
Awl-marks tagged for eternity,
Fresh rage scored the plaster,
Hastily-painted mural of Christ
Marred upon the stone façade,
The scaffolding’s chain of pipes
And planks were
Dark with soot, vacated.
Some things in us that we can't see
Are narrow, dead ends from pillar
To post, soundlessly guiding where
We shouldn't be led.
He who grabs and demands an open hand
From which to stand again
May stand, higher even,
On other men.
Dust particles poised to curse us,
We cannot cure the condition of "versus".
Children play kick-the-can
With a dented censer;
I watch them battle with each kick, a
Fresh perfume of cinders.
The Carrion My fingers itch to intertwine
With votive texts; the withered spine
Of ills and mornings lost
To fingerprints, embossed.
Remembering the aimless days,
I cannot sleep, a clawing craze
Comes atom-small but grows
And stirs my firm repose.
But roguish ran the vein of plot,
What complicated parts and naught
A show of lissome prose,
I turn inward and close.
God with honor, hang your head,
Wild silk you've spun instead
Of Truth's thread; your traces,
Features in our faces.
What partly-colored pain is this,
Acrylic and acidic kiss -
Your stories are no home,
No crueler end can come.
My fingers now are filthy teeth,
Old artworks drawing blood beneath
The words I can't pronounce;
Hunger is but an ounce.
Heaven's a tempest carrying
The carrion meat - the craving
For purpose, in service;
The search for worth, bi
Iceboundmore infinite than
space are memories made
blind in moonlight
trembles beneath the touch of
dawn's first breath
camouflage of ice,
the waves' sigh
of snow cradles dawn,
the ice solidifies
one hesitant step
leads a man's wanderlust thoughts
to something lost
harsh sunlight echoes
upon the waters shore. her
breath lingers no more.
In Wait (A Tale Of Untaken Bait)Bass stop snapping up the squid,
Ditto for the halibut;
Yellowtail pop up, the line never taut.
She'd Take The Devil At His WordAt first glance, her world rolls on
Unbroken, timid eyes;
At first thought, she can't be tender,
Would quickly dart and strip away
Ecstasy's face; a compelling fire
Of flesh in offering
To the night's knife-sharp perspiration.
How beautiful that form expressed,
Pulled by splinters beneath a skin of ropes
And smeared like a thick liquor;
Her possession, becoming possessed,
A devil's depth in adjuration
That I may gash her to pieces and receive nothing;
Her being hollow -
I swallow -
Her being a song, I sing.
Digital WitnessAlready now it stings, hollow nibbles between being swallowed whole,
I die tonight, my life destined to be shared and liked,
Already now it seems the billowy ocean of clicks have found me.
I died without trying, to see him at the pane I sit,
To meet him whom unsubscribed, my life a lofty prize
Plowed through and trod down, powerless against the scroll.
Already now the force of blows, mixed with the incense-steam,
Seem to me less as weapons, more melancholy comments
Attentively neglected; I trust nothing, and expect less.
I am hostage to a powerful host,
Honored to be an awful ghost
Living still in others' eyes,
Through old memories and new replies.
Expectation Of An AvalancheOur emptiness, our spades and saws,
Old tools become debris,
The shattered bricks, a flayed applause
Shaking the snowy sea.
Tomorrow and the muted crawl,
The air's shock caught up, surging fall,
Beyond, until the motion stalls.
The bloodless gallop of the void
Between a dreamer's bones,
And at the foot lay there, destroyed,
Dissolving little ones -
So was it then, an elegy?
To soften their geometry,
So was it, then?
So was it then
When ice was all that I could see?
Alignment of translucent dunes,
Glass roofs but gravestones be;
Giving shelter to shedding moons
All polished perfectly.
An avalanche, as one would say,
No anchored noise thrown in the way,
To seize the feet with frozen clay.
Yet convalescence strips away
That jewel-box whose stems may slake
The eyes' long-thirsty lust of gray -
Our emptiness outwears and breaks.
No arabesque to dress the heart
Nor quickly sway its idle aches;
To whisk off vertigo, to part,
Our emptiness o
And Chains Will Not Release MeA certain pride and certain awe I see,
At times, your ardor all but has you gripped,
Yet not with love for your own child, or me,
But only for his newest manuscript.
Your verses are a gift from God himself,
Yet you dwell on those sentences amiss,
'Tis your novels that should be on the shelf,
But you treat each word as a crude, lewd kiss.
I'm writing this in hopes that you may know,
Finally understand what you ignore,
My veiled voice has long been pleading "Go..",
But 'tis I who must choose to stay no more.
Your words have chains and meaning thick as lead,
And chains will not release me once they're said.
The Villain (Bye Bye Mr. Nice Guy)I am desperately seeking someone to save me
Wondering where I have been going wrong
The more I allow myself to be walked over
The more I feel like it’s where I belong
Under the tread marks of your rubber soled shoe
My face has been driven in to the mud
You’ve laced my dignity with so much self doubt
What on earth have I gained from being good
I am desperately seeking something to save me
The next line to the poem of my life
Dissecting my past with clinical precision
Using a pen-shaped surgical knife
With a blade that seems to cut deeper and deeper
Each time that I am wounded or I am hurt
But maybe now is the time to put down my pen
And distribute my anger with more than words
I am desperately seeking something to save me
I feel I’m on the cusp of a rebirth
I will take centre stage and leave you in the wings
There is no more time left to rehearse
I have stiffened the sinews, I have summoned the blood
I face my fears and I’ve made a decision
I can be strong, I can
Rainy DaysOn dismal ,dark and
the weather mirrors all
The grey clouds shroud
your depth of mind,
reflect the mood
you have inside,
but just as rain clouds melt,
hope`s renew in the setting sun.
Light and warmth can
for a new tomorrow.
if you get caught and you get wet
take heart remember with no regret.
After rainy days,dark,forlorn,
the sun ascends on a brand new morn.
By Suzanne karbach 31.07.2014
Sweet Music MelodySweet Music Melody lend a mid-night dance to me
Oh what tender lips are these that lay sweet kisses on my cheeks
Making my bashful heart sing...sing...sing
Sweet Music Melody lend a mid-night song to me
Oh what beautiful notes your voice is to a lover's song
beckoning a drifting soul home sweet home
Sweet Music Melody never let your music end
Play your seductive heart's song again and again
Step by step, song by song, you and I are forever one
She Does Not Love YouDo not hear
Her glorious speech
Pretend to be deaf.
Elude her hair
Dancing in the air
Don’t think about
Those sunny eyes
Knowing your past
With just one look.
Avoid her laugh
A melody of harp
Played by angels.
She’s hurting you
Giving you false
When she reveals
All her evil plan
You will be broken
Thinking about suicide.
Bury the memories
With you by her side
Even if they are
The best times
Of your life.
Winds Of TimeThe cool winds of time change from day to day
Yesterday to soon turns into tomorrow
But today is never twice the same
And in heavenly stars I search, but I have yet to find my way
Still, as time marches on, my soul can find no resting place
In the mist of this violent quake
Of many dimensions of being I lies awake
Until the hours of dark meet a brilliant day break
leaving me to, once again ponder an uncertain fate
Four EverSugar coated, and devoted
To the bright side of life.
Optimistic, and artistic
With a blessed soul and mind.
May God bless you, for breaking through
The darkest side of death.
Keep your smile clear, my precious dear
For it brightens the sky.
PossibilityOne moment of action, and all futures shatter;
Outcomes collapse, and a future falls through.
One of two answers, a gamble on quanta -
Yet, left undecided, both answers ring true.
Making decisions will close off new avenues.
Making a choice will end infinite lives.
Existing in parallel, safe, unexamined;
But open the box, and just one path survives.
Is chance ever real? We make life by observing:
Existence is nothing if never perceived.
Reality falters before it is looked at:
Unwitnessed, untrusted, unseen, unbelieved.
Don't look at your future, for then you define it.
Don't open the box, for the atom decides.
In the superposition, your dreams are still possible,
Tangled in nightmares, all ticking inside.
Writer's ProblemsThis pen feels,
So right in my hand.
With the ability,
To do what only I can.
Ideas fly from my mind,
In a manner, distraught.
But they stick to my pen,
Writers with their problems,
Ideas with their wings.
But take your imagination,
And shoot down the damn things
StargazingCome with me and stay a while
To marvel at the night sky
For darkness brings forth beauty
That daylight might disguise
Oh how the heavens simply teem
With spritely dancing hues
That paint the blackness up above
In purples, pinks, and blues
And did you know that the stars
Are the best at telling a story
About dancing bears or a mighty hunter
Or a hero's road to glory
And the moon sings me to sleep
With a celestial lullaby
And whispers an offer in my ear
To join him in the sky
But then I fall asleep
And the stars still shine
And the colors still dance
And I'll have nothing but these dreams of mine
These dreams that tempt me
To leave this world behind
For a life amongst the stars
Where there's adventure worth to find
But as much as I'd love to go
I know that I must stay
That's why I need you here with me
'Cause I'm afraid I'll drift away
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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