measuring…

measuring

guess
the clinical
definition
of
depression
would apply 
to
a lot
of
folks
these days
so many of us
having
to bury
family
and friends
as the dust
from
their graves
swirls
in
the winds
of
hatred
it settles
on
my beliefs
turning them
ashen
but
i recall
hearing
someone
say
when you’ve
laughed
more days
than
you’ve cried
it’s been
a good
life

 

 

another monday…

 

digital decoupage cwmartin

in the dark
the ticking
of the clock
can be mistaken
for the heart
breaths syncopate
with each sound
shallow breathing
against
the night’s chill
reminds you
of the nearness
of death
the alarm
rings
and
you crawl
from your
satin crypt
moving
as if
alive

run aground..

digital decoupage cwmartin

there shall be
no
resurrection
your way
of life
was
caught upon
the wings
of an albatross
headed
out beyond
tomorrow
long before
your eyes
were opened
to this day
look not
to the vast sea
for your fate
but rather
into the tide pools
amongst
the jagged rocks
where gulls
scavenge
for
survival

final diagnosis…

Image Complements of Vlad

you love me
you love me not
you see me not
you see me
i am here
i am not
i am pain
i am joy
i’m saving your world
i’m destroying your very soul
you’re my nightmare and despair
you’re my only saving grace and joy
i am the soft touch of love
i am the anger of the ages
i shall die today
i shall live forever
i am real
i am illusion
i am pure sin
my blood is pure
doctors say
bipolar
i say
living
hell  

  

This is the third part of a series of poetry challenges between Jade (http://jadepaloma.wordpress.com/) and me. The whole idea behind it is to send a picture ( in this case by Vlad) to the other as inspiration (or visual muse, if you want to), and the other has to write a poem inspired by the image. Visit her site to see how she has responded to my second challenge photograph on her site.  

 

depression…

 

he without form
void of all emotions
sat in the darkness
of his room
gasping for breath
praying to a god
he had long abandoned
or abandoned him
expecting little
receiving less
his mind a fertile ground for doubt
too many faceless fears
whispering in his ears
spiralling his fragile thoughts
into the darkest realms of self-pity
where his dreams
wither in the sun of expectation
easily crushed and blown away
faith is but a shadow of smoke upon the wall
sensed but never felt
here
tears are his only true companion
he is buried beneath daily routines
and each day he thinks
the morning
and evening
were the first day