#32 Emptiness Is as Emptiness Does

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

Emptiness is as emptiness does

that’s how you showed me

that somehow, in someway

in some instance,

someone emptied you of love.

Maybe

it was done

by using steady

perpetual care

that diminished your resolve

then abruptly ripped it away

like bolts of lightning

breaking holes

throughout the air

stealing the thunder of your

expectations

till it was confirmed

that there was nothing left

but your

silence…

going the distance

and setting fire

to your dwindling hopes

fanning the smoky flames

higher to ensure it engulfed

all of its remnants,

but;

I could be wrong…

You could just be

the grown version of

a trapped child

that never knew

what freedom meant

inside your home

or within the mind

of innocent

imaginative contentment

A child;

who got used to being

rejected so many times

at the mercy of

some weak person’s

shallow thrills

that rejection is

the only gift descriptive

of the type of love you

know how to sufficiently give…

Contorted but true

to your heart’s twisted rules

that teetered near revealing emotions

and losing control

of the fragility

that lies stuck at the base

of what really is your

debilitated version of truth;

that confuses lust with trust

and grief with joy

struggling to understand

the consequences

between each spectrum

secretly hoping

to find someone,

anyone

to give you simple kind care

and loving attention,

unlike the kind you seem

to incessantly seek

as justification from others

that you are worth the time

and the devotion.

I could be wrong…

But this is what you felt like

many times to me,

like someone who would desperately

settle for even a glimpse

of genuinity,

in between the pieces of your

mournful rage

that overturns furniture

and tears reminders

out of picture frames

and leaves her colourful petals

flaking,

oxidizing gently

under internal loneliness

and unrequited self-love…

I could be wrong,

but I perceive you know that I’m not,

because emptiness is as emptiness does.

My Inspiration: A Chance Meeting & Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle 

 

© KohylahPiper 2015

 

#26 The Ruler of the Sun's Flames

 

courtesy: Alexander Redmon

He was intertwined in

galaxies of frustration

constantly building

on sections of

lost, wayward rays

reaching for stars

that always seemed to dim

then recede far away

before he could touch them…

but he kept trying,

creating pockets

that carried

his unique breath

through the dense air

floating past rocky bars of

unjustified

meteoric  fears.

Latticed planets of light,

colourfully shaped with

distinctive glows

had kept him

balanced when

insistent black holes

came upon him

to steal the magic

he kept guarded securely

in the depths of his throat.

They arose

with an insatiable hunger to

overthrow all hopes

into vacuums hard pressed with

past and present times bursting

forth into a shower which

streaked across his vision

blissfully

with woes,

none of his own,

but frightfully extended

meaning to magnify

the distance

between his efforts

and where his dreams ended.

He hung from

the last notch on

Orion’s Belt

desperate for the universe

to feel what he felt

thinking maybe if it did

it could catapult

him into the position

he knew he was to fill,

burning the fragrance

of hells he had conquered

into wisps of the heaven

he was meant to live in…

and there and then

without a second or third thought

to consolidate the action

that grew ripe in his heart

he let go;

and swung himself high

determined to create

a path newly formed

above the galaxies below

and when his eyes caught fire

he knew his time had come

to be the ruler

of the flames of the sun.

My inspiration: A Solitary Daddy Long Legs Spider [random, I know :) ]

© KohylahPiper 2015

#19 Somehow I was still alive.

 courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

This was the moment

my shadow wished it

could uncouple itself

from my

exhausted limbs

and hide

blending into darkness

away from the menacing lights

of handmade wooden torches

bent on scorching

any hope that I held

of being freed

from snarls of rage

disgusted

their calamity

my existence

that flowed from the

thorough execution of

my free speech.

How I wished

the stoic bridge above

could loosen its bolts,

and shed its concrete designs

over their ferocious intents,

coloured like the canvas

over their heads

a dusty, grim red

but it was unmoved by the

desperation of my plight.

Legs ran wild

beside

elegantly architectured doom…

carrying bodies of

brilliantly crafted,

repugnant

whitewashed tombs

over which gargoyles

sat and chanted

looking down

like vultures in heat

betting that these

powerful hunters

would be satisfied enough with the

thrill of the kill

to gift them the devastation

of my wasted,

fresh meat.

I had been escaping

by milliseconds

with muscles on the verge

of collapsing,

my survival

dependent solely on

 decelerating feet

agonizingly tired,

that for the pleasures of rest

had been longing

with each mechanical stride…

Yet despite

the fact these odds

clearly,

were never fashioned to be my friends

I recklessly believed

that if tenacious enough to try

any underdog could win,

and that an underestimated life

could lead a movement

if

bold enough to rise

from sweat that intermingled

with the metallic taste

of iron

spilling through

defunct capillaries

that had burst forth from the stress of

cradling their own

impending demise.

As the city walls converted into deep forest

their voices became progressively faint

the fire in their hands

was reduced to a glimmer

although their hatred persisted,

untamed…

and soon enough

silence engulfed

my noisy marathon

and the opaque night overtook my race;

and the legs that had endured

for so long

sensing

that safety was sure

gave themselves the full pleasure

of expressing their withheld distaste

under a sky where there

were no stars to guide and

only a moon who pondered my

inexorable fall,

wondering as I

What was this

sorcery

that launched me

nearer to destiny

binding me to a most certain ill fate

and then inexplicably…

pulled me away from it all?

Paralysed,

I laid in a meadow overgrown

with thickened brush that

shielded my eyes

it lulled me to dreamscapes

knowing I had been left quite wearied;

bruised, and shaken,

disheartened, angry and terrified;

pursued mercilessly, effectively abandoned

open game running, with no place to hide,

my passion had been almost murdered

my dreams almost vilified…

Yes.

I had been left quite wearied

but somehow...

 I was still alive.

# SELAHSATURDAYS

My Inspiration: Photo Fiction Prompt by Random_Michelle 

 

© KohylahPiper 2015