Sunday, February 28

#89 For the Taste of

courtesy t rin

Your mother had a problem
Your gramps had one too
but somehow you thought
that just a little taste wouldn’t
ever control you.
they had lacked will power
but you were a different make
you could handle whatever amount you bought
handle every amount it pleased you to take
...there were a few instances,
you would freely admit
that after the day’s end you’d hideaway
just to take a hit,
only after the fact to ponder
why was it you needed to hide...
if indeed you still had a handle on
your well controlled life?
and here you are
as they were
trying to prove to yourself you could do without
but your normal has changed
your body knows this quite well
and all the water you drink can’t shake
this bothersome dryness from your mouth
And here you are
as they were
fingers damp and trembling
ribs that seem tightened with each anxious breath
but never mind all that
you still insist that you don’t need any help
because help would mean
that in the end you were just like them
that you would have a label to confront’d have to confront yourself
but its easier to lie
vaguely through your lips
though if uncensored
they’d have a different story to tell
but the honesty that
breaks your body down would have
to be held for you refuse to ever
call yourself that word
that seems so harsh
and all at once helpless
The word that your body
has already admitted
and here you are shaking
all of you yearning
for the taste of...
refusing to admit you’re

 My Inspiration: Addiction

© KohylahPiper 2016

Saturday, February 27

#88 They Never Did Exist

There are two men walking along a beach
heads bowed against the wind
strong, gusts blowing
from the ocean
originating past the horizons brim
their clothing is dark
their arms are crossed
each one shoulders a holster
the wet sand molds
to the swish of their feet
trudging through the lawless tide
from an ocean
that in the dark is devoid of
the colours of its green-blue luster
but they don't mind because
even if it was the day they'd probably
wouldn't haven't had noticed its beauty either
they see a shimmer of a light
that marks their destination
it's in a cove just below the range
of cliffs from where they had descended
their equipment is in a briefcase
the client had left behind
to finish the job
that lies cold, damp and defenseless
life stilled behind open eyes
they say a prayer
to bless the dead
make signs of the cross
an unsettling custom
but they did it anyway
because it had become habit from since
their first one
with so much practice behind them
they finished working within the hour
tools sanitized 
blood vessels cauterized
fish food that would never get the chance to go sour
and as they came they left
briefcase holder delegated by Rock Paper Scissors
and soon they were on their way to the city
listening to steel orchestra rhythms.
The local papers would soon report
a known local drug dealer missing
but by then they'd be far gone
per chance any loose ends 
of their client were uncovered
through the police hired fishermen
and if in fact they were
it didn't matter
if he attempted to explain away 
their little tryst
for they made sure the
 briefcase only
had his fingerprints on it
and as for them,
they were just hired hands
who just finished another shift
but to everyone else;
they never did exist.

 My Inspiration: Dark Coves

© KohylahPiper 2016

Wednesday, February 24

#86 Blackbirds' Cries

courtesy: A. Gambrel

The blackbird have descended
through the winter’s heart
Slowly moving 
from crescendos
to frantic calls
as they cry,
and shuffle through
the branches
As they scratch
the ground
wondering if they can
advance beyond
The huddle 
all their calamity is kept
The huddle 
Calamity is strength
at how their flock rises up
blackened smoke
cutting across the sky
and though 
their feathery mist
eventually subsides
you are left
with the echoes
of their frantic cries.

 My Inspiration: Blackbirds

© KohylahPiper 2016

Sunday, February 14

#81 Maybe?

courtesy YohachyArts

We can be more than this...
Tension that we have let exist
in between our eyes,
lips and fingertips
Simple touches
carefully casual
shy from this, 
energy that lifts
our hands to our faces
amazed at such
comfort to be found in 
words and laughter
skeptically desiring ever afters
asking simply
can we be 
more than this...

My Inspiration: Art Poetry: The Evolution of a Love Story

© KohylahPiper 2016

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Think on these things...Selah

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