Showing posts with label betrayal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label betrayal. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 13

#103 Unwelcome Muse

courtesy Benjamin Earwicker


My inspiration left...
Left me with burnt out flecks
Flecks that exuded retreat
Retreating 
victim of war in the battle to find heat
Heat that was drained from cold faces
Faces claiming bodies
Bodies rearranged into people
Disgraces
Projecting outward personas
Mismatched to reality’s musty aroma
Unequipped to change their 
Vile ways
Though aging
Lips curled, 
wrinkling
preaching that 
taking flight
means you’re diseased
just
because 
They are still
Wingless doves trapped 
In unfortunate cages.



My Inspiration: Times Long Gone

 


© KohylahPiper 2016



Sunday, November 22

#53 The Spaces Where Drama Exists Part III

courtesy derekoverfield.deviantart.com




Your fate was foretold;

though it always takes time

one must wait

before shadows

dissipate

to make way for the light,

too many coatings beneath

those

hands clasped so tight

the only signal

that betrayed

the rumblings that

were mounting inside,

till

against the affliction

of your own will

your tongue rebelled;

admittedly,

Freudian speech

was never meant to

be stilled.



Praised be your

blessed lips!

that cut through this chase

of dynamite infiltrated feelings

barely covering ruination's face;

revelling in sharpened wit

its stabs, bleeding

deceit dry

tossing it over the curb

not caring what it said

even less what it heard

only willing it to slowly die.

Confidence seeped through

those

hands clasped so tight

unwilling to bring

them to the face

not partaking from its bounty

for fear of its indigestible lies.

Their only option

was to quiver

splaying tormented fingers wide

opening their space

of secrets and lies...

 

My Inspiration: The Human Condition

 




© KohylahPiper 2015


Wednesday, November 11

#48 The Spaces Where Drama Exists Part I


courtesy Local Guy





Your sentences

were laid straight

their letters erect in design

they formed

a concise response

and never left

the logic

to which they were confined.

Yet,

after leaving

the realms of thought

from which

neuronal movements were lit

they bounced  off your tongue

into a sealed wall

that deflected

the deciphering

of their value

to the one

who held in their grasp

the power of the

interpretative gift.

Not to be outdone,

you tried once again

this time,

you arranged your thought

structured, worded soldiers

and formed a new approach

another design.

There had to be a way

to get past this intrusive barrier

and with tactical calculations done

before one tenth of a millisecond

airy turbines spun off your tongue,

this jet of sentences was to be released

and you prepared your lips to carry her.

Reasonably guided to fly over an

unexplored terrain

you took an offensive position

faced in a

refreshingly different direction,

and with careful calm took aim.

But…alas

‘twas not to be

for another wall appeared

electrified steel,

latticed by thick wires

rebounding your hopeful intentions

just as you had feared.

And your words…

they disintegrated

into spiked teardrops of heat,

your letters dissipated before they

fell,

and mere nothingness was left

at your feet.

Learning to withstand this awkward hell

prompted

your silence to casually thrive

thus becoming an observer

in this battle between the

necessity to be relieved

of pride’s torture

and the compulsive need to be right.

In becoming mute

you found your voice,

as you discerned that it was not yourself

who was lost in a treacherous cage,

who was wounded by

some repressed shrapnel;

and though,

the bombs dropped indignantly overhead

and the missiles

continued to rage

you knew you couldn’t do a thing

and this epiphany was

frustratingly relaxing

even though it had come a bit late…

for it wasn’t your tone

or your words

it wasn’t your intent

or your gestures

it was all about defences

that had been engaged for so long

that its attacks

were its only means of

communication

and this was no fault of yours

but had everything to do with

decaying layers

of trust that held on

their insides iced

pockets of despair and anger,

rising tall from within

the mind

stacked high,

exasperation overflowing

till all that was left

were these steely, sealed walls

that formed

the space

of misunderstanding.





My Inspiration: The Human Condition
 




© KohylahPiper 2015

Monday, November 9

#45 Regurgitations

painting by Ian McKeever






You say you have.
But you really haven't
I can tell
by the  smothered
  undertones
of your gag reflex
that have become reverberant
Yes.
It hurt.
Yes.
They were wrong.
But their wrongs
have stayed with
you
living between
your bosom
with every passing
wisp of air
you have conditioned
yourself
to ruminate on their songs.
You chew
and rip it
apart,
a stale meal
with fresh wounds
every day,
you reminisce
and murmur
almost hungering
to remember
the words that
you long to hear
echo, from
the belated rebuttals
you now say.
Victim for a moment
has evolved into
a victim for life
that begs
to be wounded
continually
by what
you eagerly
refuse to digest
inside.
Because if its
digested
it will
eventually
be wasted
and if its
wasted
you'll think
that there
was no justice.
But justice
was never founded
on your perceptions.
It was always based
on where you focus
your own direction.
After the fact.
After the pain,
after choosing to
break out of this place
where their aftermath
remained.
For by living through
them
you continually
die,
and its frightening
that you voluntarily
close your eyes to
avoid seeing just
how intimately you've
become adjusted
to this daily suicide.
Your feed
is tainted
devoid of nutrition
harmful
to your soul
slowly decaying
from its
poisoned submissions
that has stunted
your growth
regardless of needing
your admission,
your soul is
slowly decaying
from its
poisoned submissions
that has stunted
your growth
regardless of needing
your admission;
because each day
you willingly welcome
this transient infiltration.
Unable to
Spit. It. Out.
Once and for all.
Face the pain.
Look at where your
chips fell…
so far from where
you intended them to fall.
Now,
step away
and
walk past the shame
of what hurt,
who's to be blamed,
what it was
what it now is.
Your future
was meant to be changed
by the brimstones'
mocking laughter
the sear of the furnace
and the evils of personified disaster;
take the lessons
that this hell has taught you,
and use it to teach another
who you never knew
would need you.
Use the lessons
that this hell has taught you,
and teach another...
how to fight
even though one suffers
how to rise
even though one is lowered
how to smile
even though its over
how to love again
even though before 
it was not
treasured...
how to look at your charred
being
and embrace the light
that still flickers gently
through its smoked filled dreams
that were meant to glow
in the darkest of nights.

Walking away
becomes easier with
each step;
even if
taken shaking
it must be done.
For your destiny,
the one you've shielded
yourself from;
was never
meant to be tied
to your
regurgitations.



My Inspiration: Dinner and a Movie





© KohylahPiper 2015


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