BEAUTIFUL CHAOS

A backward clock still ticking

Loosing time with every moment we go forward,

Every moment I go back.

A backwards clock has nothing

But time on its hands.

Am I standing still while the world

Spins around me?

Or am I running past the world

While it waits for me to slow down?

I would have to stop to find that out.

And stopping is not an option

When your heart is a sand timer

And your constant motion

Is what turns it up and down.

I run on time based around

Chaos theory.

Stability and stillness

Derived from ceaseless motion.

From random occurrences

With no pattern or boundaries.

Interconnected, vital and oddly structured.

Beautiful chaos.

Spin it on its axis

And use the world as my treadmill

EMOTIONAL COMPOST

It feels redundant

To write another poem

About heartache.

To put my pen to paper

Ooze with bitterness

Hoping to sound beautiful

Hoping to form beauty from

Something so ugly.

It seems redundant.

But there again,

Everything seems redundant lately.

And isn’t it true that

From shit, roses grow.

Like an asphodel birthed in Hades.

Perhaps I can grow something,

Heavenly, celestial or simply lovely

From the swamp of my

Emotional compost heap.

That’s it isn’t it?

Compost.

Dirt.

Earth.

The basis of life.

That’s all that’s left.

A bulb

A shoot.

Back to my core.

And all I am doing,

Day in and day out

Is spreading my roots

Inside my personal flower pot.

Ceramic and brown with

Three holes in the bottom

Just waiting for water.

I guess it takes time to

Grow something from a root.

So patience

So time

So care

So love.

Provide myself with these things

Perhaps?

And soon I’ll be

The Great Oak I once was.

Because I was great.

Before I was chopped down.

Before I was smothered,

Choked and parched

With all the light blocked from me.

You were anti-photosynthesis to me.

Reverse respiration.

A blacked out green house.

Time to grow.

IN TRACES OF YOU THERE IS SOLACE

You could have knocked me over

With a whisper of my name

I was so taken with you.

You could have made me stoop

Made me lower myself to depths unknown

I was so enamoured by you.

All the things I’d never do

I would have done for you

I was so blinded.

And now there’s solace only in

The traces you left behind on my skin

Imprinted on my midnight theatre

Of memories and sorrow.

I yearn for you.

I miss you.

I know I’ll never own you

The way you own my heart.

SILENT SONG

Loneliness is timeless

Emotion is listless

I crane my neck to hear the sounds

Of my own body in a swansong.

The musicality of utter stillness,

Tuneful breath.

Walls that echo lullaby’s

I fill my empty spaces

With a handful of chords

A mouthful of words

And an earful of sound.

Motion and stillness,

Stillness and invisibility.

Sight in all of my dark places

Without my heart song

I would be lost.

But my brain plays a tune

Through my undulating darkness

I find light

I find peace

I find respite

In shades of silence.