Mikes Poems

What is this that I can feel?
It's in my chest, but not my heart or lungs,
It's a pain, but not painful.
It feels strong, yet innefective,
Sharp, yet sheathed.

How can I stop the pain if it's not hurting?
It confuses me to the point of ignorance,
But it is always on my mind,
It ticks, a clock, a bomb.
Always there, all knowing.

The time has come for me to grow,
But the clock is ticking in my mind,
A time bomb, it waits,
Waiting for brief moment,
Hoping I find way to weaken myself.

I must move quickly, it will get me.
I must push on, proceed, advance,
I must break free from this mental grasp,
I have placed on myself,
I have trapped myself.

I will break out, of this I am sure.
Confidence is my key, dignity my guide.
Bomb will fall defused,
Clock will tick to my step.
I will control it, I will control me.

My future is waiting,
My grasp gains strength.
I hold on to the new treasures mind found,
New friends, new life.
No time constricts, I walk to my pace.

I am alive now,
There is no better freedom,
I have broken out,
It trapped me, held me, cornered me,
But I am free from my mind now.

Heartbeat

If I were with you, I'd do everything I could for you.
I'd get you anything you wanted, anything desire demanded,
I'll cool you down if you're too warm, warm you up if cold.
I'd slow down my heartbeat, so you could rest your head on my chest,
I'd breathe slow and steady, to comfort you in panic.

Would you let me get closer to you, to show you of these things?
Would you present to me your heartbeat, show me the way you love?
Could you be held, if I held you, could you accept my warmth?
Could you hear my heartbeat, if you rested your head on my chest?
Be calm, as I hold you, breathe slow, don't panic.

Now you see what I want to feel, you see what I want to do for you.
I'll do for you, whatever your heartbeat requests.
Could you feel the warmth I'm offering you?
Our hearts could beat together, if only you'd let them.
Beat together slowly, be calm, don't panic.

Mystery

When you look into her eyes, it's strange.
So much is stirring, yet there is no reaction.
Stories are told through the eyes, the soul stirs inside.
Unreadable stories, a shielded tome,
Protected inside her mind, by an unseen guard.

It' a mystery to me, it's an attraction not known.
A feeling unusual, a state of cold quiet,
Darkness seems misplaced here,
For outside her eyes, a friend, an ally.
Showing strength in silence, a muted masterpiece.

From a distance, her story is unknown,
Up close, I still can't read the story in her eyes.
I've never seen anyone like her before,
Friendly and open, yet quiet and withdrawn,
It's a mystery to me, but it intrigues me so.

These Are The Days...

What will happen?
Between now and the future lies an untrodden path,
Unlit and uncharted.

It will be the aim of my words to chart these unknown steps,
The darkened world,
Hidden by time itself,
Only unsheathed when they are immediately upon us.

Ours is to dream,
To wait and to dream.
Only in our dreams will the path become clear,
But for a brief moment.

Then the darkness shrouds again,
Leaving us to chart our daily journey,
To push on through the unknown,
As it is all we know,
It's all we can see.

The future is dictated by the steps we have taken,
For it is only once we have taken those steps,
That we can truly see why we stepped in that direction.

It is futile to guess,
It is painful in hope
And it is gut-wrenching in frustration.

This one is a bit of ad-lib me and my friend Khris did about ten minutes ago.
1 = Me
2 = Khris

1
One of its many faces,
This boredom, this bland, pointless beast.
It creeps aimlessly from being to being,
Infecting their time, stretching their patience.
It crawls about, pushing souls into a sleepy prison,
Closing doors, consealing better times.

2
The creature liked to stay in the shadows, Also the king of night.
Any light would be appetite like a tongue to a persons dry mouth,
But that of innocent flesh would be irresistable and insatible.
If only the victims weren't so gullible to fall for the tricks,
But thats human nature.

1
Human nature it seems, the feast for this darkened king
The dweller of shadows, the bland, blackened spirit.
It's appetite unsated, it's shifty movement unchecked.
Victims lay motionless, drained by its dark force,
Yet unharmed, unbroken, unstirred.
The light reveals nothing, king of night vanish'd like the moon.

2
No trails of seduction, no emotion could be felt in any way, shape or form.
All that remains was the feeling,
The constant shivering like patters of rain descending and ascending at a rapid rate on the spine.
Maybe the laughter could be heard by some, the laughter of death,
The laughter of being caught or the laughter of their own selves,
On the brink of insanity.

1
The rain descending, tracing lines down window askew,
Echoes of laughter, of death, of laughter, churning in the mind.
The beast dwells within the tone and the decibel,
Awaiting the cold, awkward following silence of laughter's end, and death's commence.
The spine, it shivers, cold and cautious, the fear creeping,
Crawling in the dark corner of the eye.

2
It was a difficult task, at most one could only catch a glimpse of an eye, gleaming in the night.

World For Two

If I could steal you from this,
I would, I'd do whatever I could,
I'd swim oceans for you,
Build our world made for two.

If I could show you of this,
I'd draw it the best way I could,
I'd paint a masterpiece for you,
Paint our world made for two.

If I could tell you of this,
I'd say it the best way I could,
I'd sing a sonnet just for you,
Sing of our world made for you.

The Angel And The Sun

The angel hides her face from the sun,
Its rays too strong and overbearing.
She a thing of beauty, he unwielding, blinding light.
Sun holds out his pale lit hand,
The angel smiles, takes flight and away.

High above cloud, angel and sun do dwell,
Space and dark does separate,
Though she seeks warmth from sun's ray.
Sky lays out it's cold blue scene,
The angel flies, from dark into day.

Dead of night, Sun none to be seen,
Rays out of reach, underwhelming, and weak.
The angel flies far, find light, blinding light.
Angel spreads brilliant white wings,
The angel glides, towards pale arms, blinding sun.

Battleground

A battleground, with no bodies,
No gunfire, no bombs.
Only the echoes of a heartbeat,
Sound in the barren field.

A battle inside my mind,
My thoughts fight my heart.
The drumming of my heartbeat,
Echoes in my barren mind.

Withheld from the world, my dreams,
They describe a longing, held secret.
The pounding of this heartbeat,
Beats inside my chest.

Only the chosen few, I confess,
These things inside my heart.
The slamming of my heartbeat,
On battleground in my mind.

Monster

See this, this monstrous evil thing,
It grows and billows, over the town below.
We pray not, it open mouth and sing,
For fear and hate, it hurts enough to show.

Staggering forth, the beast, it's strength clear,
Trampling below, people scatter in panic.
It's rampaging stride, forces expression of fear,
Monstrous roar, sounding pained, yet manic.

The hillside offers respite, to those who've fled,
Shutting in the monster, but for time unknown.
Those too slow, too weak, sentenced dead,
Their bodies lie, smell of death, softly blown.

Village waits, seemingly for an age,
For heroes to arrive, to try, and to die.
Sword and shield, all lost to it's rage,
Heroes failed, slain bodies, here lie.

One man risen, claiming unearthly power,
Takes to the village, beast waits, unscathed.
Distained looks, this man does not cower,
Takes to his blade, swift blow, beast lathe'd.

The corpse falls, crashing to ground,
Villagers cheer, a saviour holds their court.
Then a hand raised, for moment, not a sound,
Hero waits, mind deep in thought.

The beast reawakens, angered and raw,
Rising to its feet, filled with rage, all consuming.
The man looks up, seeing defiler of holy law,
Preparing for battle, once again resuming.

However there is change, and the beast is small,
No bigger than a man, no stronger, humbled.
The hero rises up, once more, no fear at all,
Strikes beast with blade, head sliced, tumbled.

Finally they are free, the village uncursed,
This man has saved them, like no other before.
He finally speaks, his tongue well versed,
The world is at peace, at least for now, once more.

Pressured

I can't create this, the words you desire fall silent,
Pushing me, forcing me through closed door.
You strive for me to be the best I can be,
but you pressure and pressure, bringing forth error.

I will not bow to you, your force is merely a distraction,
My work shall continue, I will not be pressed.
In my own time, I will go, I will create,
But you will not make me, I will work as I intend.

My masterwork will survive, and not because of you,
I will write my own fate, not chosen by forceful annoyance,
It will be how I want it to be, not driven by pushing.
This work will be my own, not a product of pressure.

I know who you are now, it's clear to me now.
This forceful being, the pressuring of souls,
You are my downfall, yet somehow my strength.
You are me, I know it now, Force or none.

Outside

Cut short this misery, it's unbecoming of you,
Outside this room, a life awaits, go through.
Muster sympathy, hold out hands, but don't cry,
You'd live your life, constantly asking why?
Get a hold of yourself, This life is yours to take,
The darkness has gone now, now you're awake.

You can see the snow fall to the ground below,
Loosen yourself up, have fun, grab and throw.
It is cold, I know, but you won't regret it,
Arm yourself, take care, you're about to get hit.
It's not hard to have fun, to run and smile,
It's the most I've seen you happy in such a while.

Your decadent nightmares, not worth my time,
I wish you'd be happy, is that such a crime?
"This sugar-coated illusion" you said,
"Screams of the painted agony inside my head"
Well this is no illusion, my friend,
It's real life, so get up and go out before it's end.

Finally dancing on the table, legs that buckle,
You're who you used to be, you muster a chuckle.
We now see the real version of you,
You've broken free, broken out, in a shot that's true.
It took so long, you have grown strong,
There's now nothing wrong, you now belong.

I have three new poems.

Around

So much time passed already, we've come so far,
Once pursuit led our encounters, strong you are.
Wisdom in the mind of you, emphasizing your will,
My want and desire, forced away, and yet still,
You keep me around, You keep me around.

Relapsing feelings, back to square one again,
Once again rebuked, but once more you remain,
Talking to me, keeping me close, a true friend,
Calming me down, you refuse to call the end,
You keep me around, You keep me around.

Our friendship grows stronger, day by day,
Whether you like it or not, I'm here to stay.
Your strength and character keeps me hooked,
So much so, elsewhere I've never looked,
You keep me around, You keep me around.

In Darkness

Believed one, castrated another, stories woven,
Naively following this falsified yarn, she's proven,
Though meeting has been limited, a travesty,
A friendship begins growing, such majesty.

Introduced through a mutual love, our Lorna,
Through dark, shines light, drapes, adorns her,
Future holds another growing place in heart,
Time has proved beginnings always where to start.

We will carve out a friendship given enough time,
We can show those that doubt us, that we define,
Our own path will draw out in front as we walk,
A friendship will grow, the more that we talk.

Pace after pace, grow stronger, learn ways,
Step following step, day continue, to end of days,
Powerful connections, still yet to be made,
Moving forward, this start will leave enemies in shade.

In darkness, forge light, our friendship will shine.

In His Memory

I read it out, as clear as I could,
My voice echoed around the pews and the ears,
Each verse pulsing out from my heart,
Into the minds and the souls of my family eyes fixed.

Tears welled up, I begun to struggle,
My hand was taken, my cousin gave strength.
My voice begun to tremble, my tears now ran,
Still I had to continue, I had to do it for him.

So this is me now, a humble writer,
Spelling out story in verse, all I can do,
I write in his honour, take his legacy to heart,
His musical mind, I hope, would like my words.

I try so hard now, to do my best for my family,
Yet to find the words to bring the world to me,
My heart it longs for a muse to write of,
One person stood out, a good, true friend.

Now when I think of when I read out those words,
I think of how I can pay adequate tribute,
To a man, a family, a closeness, a world,
I try my best to prove that I'm not just a waste.

Clouds Above

The sky above the houses in dusk, grey and blue,
Clouds high and light, drifting though only new.
Their ebb, their flow, their ethereal transmission,
Gliding in the grey and blue, no apparent mission.

Above the rooftops, the darkness grows though sinned,
On an aimless journey, only governed by the wind.
I look towards the sky, though cloudy, vision is clear,
Grabbing my senses, so far, though it feels so near.

Shining Stars

To the two stars high in sky above me,
Guide me with your light, for I can't see,
Shining beacons show route to what lies,
Caution needed, time lost among tries.

To the two beating hearts beside me,
Push me towards a mind that is free,
Guiding lights shine on path not walked,
A mess I'd be had we not but talked.

To the two friendly faces, around me,
Look to the path, walk together as three,
Glowing source, friends hold my hands,
Prove our bonds unbreakable, so it stands.

To the two I hold dear to me,
Your happiness fills mind with glee,
Showing me the way, making me smile,
Making me the happiest within many a mile.

Starry Eyes, Starry Skies

They shine above, stars abound and around,
Glimmering specks loud without a sound,
Sharpened points, diffused by soft white light,
Glittering little dots, a beautiful nightly sight.

Tracing constellations, ancient maps design,
Near yet so far, out of grasp, none are mine,
Reaching out in the night sky, shining guides,
Showing our destination, starry eye resides.

Growing in strength, as darkness surrounds,
Clouds depart, as stars and light abounds.
Despite the night, the light is bright on high,
Brighness sings volumes, silent sound no lie.

Starry eyes, starry skies, shining bright,
Beauty unbounded, an amazing sight,
A permanent reminder of the great beyond,
Starry skies reflections, off silent still pond.

Connection

It breezes across my face, through the air,
It always surrounds me, always there,
In anticipation, future lies untrodden in place,
In lives intertwined, float invisibly with grace.

This feeling grows steaily, pushing along,
This force pushing me along, keeping me strong,
We strive for connection, weighing our hope,
We live in our planning, distance in scope.

All things lead us to pursuit of our dream,
All time and life sew story seam by seam,
To our end, we strive for life joined together,
To this point, we yearn for the future, forever.

Life throws us about, bruising and rough,
Life goes on through us, pushing just enough,
Our time will come, of this we are sure,
Our place in life together, as one, pure.

Presenting... a poem about a potato...

Fruit Of The Earth

Beneath the ground, growing silent yet steady,
The soil packed around it, keeps until ready.
The skies bring rain, feeding sprouting root,
Soon it will surface, hard graft bear fruit.
Harvested by machine, fed through the earth,
Despite humble appearance, essential in worth.
This gnarled shape, soon to feed the many,
Prove essential and pure, pleasing to all and any.

Wednesday

Wednesday Morning

The view from the window, rain flashes fast,
The view from the window, that didn't last.
The steps outside, already begun to dry,
The sun peeks out, lighting patchwork sky.
The walk through the town, sun beating down,
The clouds still threaten rain, causing a frown.
The tram to the hilltop awaited, impossible task,
The hill is steep, gentle ride up, all I ask.
The view from the top, a sight to behold,
The height at the top, instinct to grab hold.
The instinct waned, camera hoist, picture taken,
The church down below, inspiration making.

Wednesday Afternoon

Waves crashing and fizzing upon the pebble beach,
As waves of cloud drift strongly across the sky,
A light sprinkling of the future storm awaiting,
Clouds darkened and menacing, trundling above,
Ominous and foreboding, drops of rain become pellets,
Their strength increasing, their volume amassing,
Find the shelter, plenty along the parade to show,
Old people gather, mutters of dischord, I note,
Unexpected was the force of the downpour,
But within seconds, sun bright, rain stopped,
Make haste my walk, for that was the seventh.

Heroic

Hell is where your heroes lay,
Retract your hope, it's lost it's way,
One act does not a sinner save,
One counted act in spite of their grave.

Heaven is what the preachers say,
Though darkness pierced the light of day,
Their spirits carry ghostly tone,
Their heroic act left them all alone.

In limbo we wait, counting the ticks,
Searching inside for unplayed tricks,
Stinging middle ground, burning our feet,
Yet cooling our mind, so close the middle meet.

Our home where earthly possessions lay,
Lay there gathering the dust of the day,
We count our blessings, though fruitless it be,
Closing our eyes to see our lives running free.

Twisted

Holding count in the air, ticks fly about,
Impaling moments on the wall,
Left hanging, life draining from the pictures,
Pictures of a life once lived, now wasted,
Showing a being once glorious,
Now faded to dust.

Twisting hands of a twisting face,
A twisting spiral, of time twisting space,
Holding over the darkness, preceding the light,
Clasping its fingers, ticking in flight.

Reaching out in the dark, thoughts fire about,
Locking feelings inside my chest,
Left reeling, faith draining from my heart,
Memories of a time once shared, now torn,
Showing a pair once unbreakable,
Now distance prevails.

Twisting hands of a twisting face,
A twisting spiral, of time twisting space,
Holding over the darkness, preceding the light,
Clasping its fingers, ticking in flight.

Writing

The writing writer's writing writes,
A bouncing phrase, a thought ignites,
Cascading onto a page like lights,
Tense and stanza, scaling the heights.

The writing writer's tentative glance,
Side to side, searching ideas to advance,
Sky to paper, eyes in a peculiar dance,
Wall to wall, ideas, fall just by chance.

The writing writer's pen touches page,
Finally thinking in flow denied for an age,
Miniature stories cause mind to engage,
Ending abruptly, like curtain to stage.

It

Like the rock, stranded, waves crashing on to it,
Alone, as water and life ebb and flow abound to it,
Survivors of the wrecks of others, cling to it,
Weighing heavy on the rock, secrets bound to it.

Steady it stands, solid on the surface of it,
But beneath the water, beneath the life of it,
Slowly crumbling, becoming less and less of it,
The friction cause it to wear to the base of it.

Storms of others calmed, diverted from it,
Rain and lightning weathered, sheltered from it,
Now unsteady, rock topples in force from it,
It's own height and stature take life from it.

Now waves that crashed against, call out for it
Sinking deeper, they hold out a hand for it,
Grasping tightly, making a reach for it,
Saved by the saved, eternally grateful for it.

Absurdity

The absurdity, in it's being it clasps,
It holds,
Now it's completely lost,
Lost in the world's listed end,
It hides,
Grasping alone it's loss,
Loss of reality,
Casting an unwanted gaze,
To those better off,
Baseless denial sits, burning,
Leaving a hole,
It burns,
Charred circular, destroyed,
Ash flaking away,
In it's loss, it finds,
In it's fear it hides,
Searching skies for an answer,
Seeing all but,
Seeing naught but cloud,
It rains,
Collapsing in a heap,
Daring those around,
To respond, responsible,
Irresponsive, No response,
It hopes,
For the one destined,
To save it's life again,
Holding out a hand,
Picking up the pieces,
It repairs,
Holding delay from time,
Fixating light and gaze amongst,
Showing the way,
To all that is free,
It appears,
And I am free.

Price To Pay

You cry mercy to the ones that hold you,
Believing nothing of what they told you,
This heart is cursed, creaking to a standstill,
But again it opens up like one with weak will.

Put pressure on the price you'll pay,
Ignorance of advice, not heeded, they'll say,
Inglorious glory, path sad trail through mind,
Stupid or not, old value and virtue left behind.

A price to pay, unworthy of prize in prime,
In removal of hindrance, lacking in time,
Proof alone of disheartened heart in stone,
Determined not to end this life all alone.

Stream Of Inner Thought

Words combine when dream and day unite,
In a way I could write a fortune in lies,
This status seeker's mind is alive,
Feeling flow from the Ytse Jam,
Never feeling need to use the killing hand,
So I won't light fuse and get away,
Or I'll regret it in the afterlife,
We're not the ones who helped to set the sun,
But it's only a matter of time before they find us out.

And so, my mind plays out these images and words,
Another day goes by, mind swimming with thoughts,
Pen touches paper, no rush, I must take the time,
Once I felt I was alone, now surrounded,
The miracle is the sleeper in the noise of the metropolis,
Eyes closed, mind at rest under a glass moon,
Moments pass as I wait for sleep,
These steps through life as I'm learning to live.

Next morning comes, sunlight shocks me awake,
6:00 my clock read, to early to rise,
In a dusty cupboard, I get caught in a web,
Reaching for medicine, my innocence faded,
The previous night's lust, a sordid erotomania,
From the room previous, I hear voices,
But I stand there as mute, the silent man,
I look in the mirror and I curse what I see,
Turning to mysterious guest, needing a lie,
All a blur, lifting shadows off a dream to remember,
Somehow scarred, previous night a secret.
So I wear my space-dye vest and go for a walk.

Meandering aimlessly, mind falling into infinity,
Ten years ago, remembering a new millennium,
And experiences past, and hearing "it's you, not me"
A million miles away from those Peruvian skies,
A decade gone, nothing gained, seemingly hollow years,
Good people, bad people, latter burning my soul,
A veritable feast of feelings cooked in Hell's kitchen,
Memory of walking beaches, drawing lines in the sand,
New friends have helped to take away my pain,
Still memories remain, wishing they'd just let me breathe,
Recalling tale from song, in mind, one Anna Lee,
I've reached a turning point in this trial of tears.

Looking back, I play out scenes from a memory,
Regression and redemption, coming hand in hand,
A story in earnest, beginning in overture,
Many times recently, I've had a strange deja vu,
Occasionally playing out through my words,
Staying calm, I avoid my own fatal tragedy,
And a spiritual ending, beyond this life,
Sometimes I wish I could see through her eyes,
To see what she saw in me once I went home,
We keep on doing this dance of eternity,
All the time I'm praying it's for one last time,
In hope I pray that the spirit carries on,
I wish for the day that I'm finally free.

As I count all of the six degrees of inner turbulence,
I find myself trapped inside a glass prison,
With only blind faith to get me free,
It seems my intentions were completely misunderstood,
We were due to begin the great debate in earnest,
You wished I would just disappear, sadly for me,
Once again we play out this overture,
It's clear that our relationship is about to crash,
And so to myself, I wage a war inside my head,
Myself posing the test that stumped them all,
I rejected the chance for a goodnight kiss,
And retreated back within my solitary shell,
I alone was about to crash, in reprise,
All in all I was just losing time, in this grand finale.

And so from within, I track my train of thought,
Wondering if I should change or stay as I am,
Searching in my mind to heal this dying soul,
Thinking with regret of promising an endless sacrifice,
A Holy book reminds to honour thy father,
An instruction that leaves no thought vacant,
Flowing from my stream of consciousness,
All of this futile, in the name of God.

Eight upon eight, forever octavarium rotates,
Mathematically speaking, it's not the root of all evil,
As many have said to me, the answer lies within,
I question whether within mind, or inside these walls,
I say to my friends "I walk beside you" and hold hands,
Staying strong in the face of possible panic attack,
There are never enough words to describe how I feel,
Our sacrificed sons a price for an unholy war,
Eight upon eight, forever octavarium rotates.

The only thing I believe in is systematic chaos,
In the presence of enemies, I've gained many friends,
They've forsaken me, and grown to love me,
Even though it feels like I'm in constant motion,
Waiting for sunlight after the dark eternal night,
Seeking repentance from those in my past,
The prophets of war shout from soap-box high,
Declaring war on the ministry of lost souls,
My friends stand beside me in the presence of enemies.

I look up, and I see black clouds and silver linings,
Rain begins to fall heavily, a nightmare to remember,
Starting a rite of passage to free my own mind,
Beginning to wither, I try to fight the cold,
All around me lie the pieces of a shattered fortress,
My freedom brought about the best of times,
A tale not dissimilar to that of the Count of Tuscany.

Wall

Built up to withstand the storm,
Wind and rain crashing upon,
Steady and firm, holding it's form,
A cathedral of strength, standing as one.

Years advance, storms repeat,
Relentless punishment, yet standing strong,
Still it stands, unrelinquished seat,
Believing it's strength, it's place to belong.

Ages gone, yet storms still pound,
At the ancient wall, corroded, unsteady,
Weakness clasping, slight crumbling sound,
Wobbling and tired, time makes it ready.

One last storm, wall begins to collapse,
Stone by stone, it's legacy starts to fall,
Beleaguered memories, time forced to lapse,
All that's left of it, now memory of the wall.

Candle

Standing proud, yet lifeless,
Inanimate,
But with the burning promise,
The promise to hypnotise,
It says so much,
Yet it's doing nothing,
Perfectly still,
Yet aura of warmth,
Eyes to close,
To imagine a flicker,
Awaiting the dancing light in the dark,
The promise to bring the calm,
Melting itself,
Death through life,
Decadent scene,
Inducing memory,
Standing proud,
Yet standing lifeless,
Awaiting it's life force,
Awaiting it's reaper.

Lifestyles For Sale

A strange gallery, lifestyles for sale,
Products adorn the walls, mirrors of life,
From the minds of the strange,
To easel via brush,
Mind escapes through surreal picture,
Yet everything has it's price.
What for the painting, colours darting,
Dancing around the wall,
Knocking others from their perch,
It's cost, the price of living,
Balanced against the cost of existing,
Casting a net over a thought,
Slamming it against the wall,
Watching it writhe in pain,
Then pose for the highest bidder.