tangerines Poetry (8)

Moment in Silence, pt1


Silence speaks clearly
in the early morning hour,
the composed fool ponders
with itchy watery eyes.
He grins when the sun hides,
keep it cloudy
hang close to dull shades of grey.
The sky,
now becomes
monochrome.

The Fall, pt2

Mock the falling fool,
laugh hard and ridicule him loudly.
Color in his pain,
black ball the name,
and
lock the door as you leave.

Post-fool Fall, pt3

See his shape go sad,
you poor fool,
wired and taped behind the divide.
A lonely tear falls aimlessly down,
the dark corner is here.

What are feelings?
It's a wrecking ball to the heart.
Crushing emotions,
and at the end.....
only to find a knife point,
staring back.
Is this done in Europe?

Such dismay for the loving man,
he does what he can.
It will be alright at night,
but come morning
when the sun creeps through,
you turn to face her
and find the knife point.

Never look into the eyes of love,
it's book is closed,
her terms burn
and forever will
the wound loom close.

Mother,
your boy is crying
alone in the darkness,
his tears run fast and hard.
How sad his expression,
emptied,
isolated,
powerless.

Father,
your son falters
from shame,
the game you both played
had no winners.
Rules were unfair,
short on sympathy
and high with anger.

Sister,
your brother regrets
the guilt of fights,
no light in our relationship,
no one talks,
only mocks.
We live light years apart.

.....and then.....
the blade plunged deeply,
and darkness descended
upon his solitary life.
Once a glowing amber,
now only a chard dead waste,
dead waste,
just dead waste!

Ghosts and goblens twisting
effortlessly in the chilled air,
carrying torment to the junky
with demon powder.
Yesterday's blue skies melted,
and congealed to sorrowful greys.

Once a professional day dreamer
who fell in love
with the sweet scent of fur trees,
and rotting leafs.
His teary eyes stained in pain,
strangers pretend with false smiles,
and walk in quick pace.
The falling dust blankets
his remains and sour musk.

A fully weaved dream
becomes complete,
i commit suicide, not life.
I hear strings producing a sad sound,
a tragic play,
the lead role claims death.

Is there color when u wake in pain?
Behind that charge of lament,
you will not remember me.
And it is there
you find yourself in a chair
clinging to your fears.

If i should die
will you mourn for me?
If i should act death
will you be sympathetic?

In the realm of eternal sleep
pain is removed,
tears to vapor,
and the body to clay.

Deep darkness has no sound,
no movement,
no remorse,
and light is swallowed whole.
Should I care?

There is a quiet storm emerging
and the shadow in the corner
weeps.
Your brother sits
his tears in tatters,
batter up.
Sister, look at him,
our past continues to leak.
These thoughts haunt,
taunt,
and the stillness rapes my heart.

So great and bold
your colour is love,
no war here.
Only sunny sunflowers
for all to see.

How sweet the rain taste,
dripping softly,
falling
from the green foliate.
You dance magicially
with the musical wind,
season lovers.

Free from betrayal,
greed,
pain.
Corrupt not the roots
or stems,
for death sleeps deep too.