Sunken Ships and Yawning Depths

Help! I’m drowning
Trying to keep my head out of water
As tentacular expectations wrap around my feet
Sucking the marrow of my hopes dry
Help, I’m falling
Into the depth of an ocean
That shouldn’t exist inside my exhausted ribs
Help, I’m being tugged
By sharks shredding the remnants of my will
And I have not a moment to spare
For the verses raging to rip out of my throat
In a gurgled scream
How do you escape the azure you are trapped in
When there are no walls to break out of?
A sunken ship, an empty-veined vessel
The depths call to me
Do I let the water in?
Blurs of light wink out where hope once lived
An ankle that misses the silver gifted by a tender hand
A chest now too sob-tired to breathe
A loosened braid of attempts at ‘keeping it together’
The anatomy of a well-built mind too cleaved to remain stitched
And I drift submerged
In the mortal opacity of this turquoise space
Stone-cold, bone-cold, there is a nakedness in drowning
It engulfs every inch of flesh and soul
Every hateful, lovable, and forgettable part perishing at its touch
How foolish it always is to think of ourselves as impenetrable forces of will
Even mountains are raw material when waves go sculpting
And I’m merely someone who almost drowned as a child in a 4 ft pool
It tasted my fear then, it calls to me now
The depthless depths yawning far below, exposing its blackened maw
Sound is a fading pulse and clarity is stripped of illusions
Every sphere of breath having made its escape
I am now one with the ocean
And I am too imbued with this sacred quietude
To recall the phenomena called fear
To remember the clangour of hollowness
For the formerly sunken ship and empty-veined vessel
I am just too aflush, with peace of an undiluted kind


As Moments Build

Staring at black keys
Blinking lights dot the darkness
Back against a lightening square
Housing silhouetted rectangles

A mattress of discomfort to sow
Forgotten seeds of unanswered prayers
Strumming chords of discord grow
Notes to enchant the thunder

A new day heralding the end of an era
Hours ticking past to the beginning of another
Cracked stones scrunching underfoot
Laying tiles for a new path

Summertime Symphony

Summertime symphony wreathing our breaths
As tidal tantrums wash over us in a heavenly sigh
Grains of anticipation arguing the chilled arrival
An array of castles collapse freckling the seaside

Standing sentry on a night of summerly submission
Bracing against unfazed unions of internal hailstorms
Whirlwinds of brine beckoning the gliding feathers
As starlit canopies caress a horizon of gilded yawns

Beware of the Toxic

I’ve known too many black widows and lions jacketed in fleece
To let the reluctant venom of hesitant attachment sink its teeth up to my knees
I’ve known too many troupes of troubadours and marionettes of every kind
To not instinctively reach for a thread, a chain, any strings attached behind

So heed me well and beware;

Of the friend-faced siren, in velvet skirts like your mother had sewn
Beware, the mirror-collector, the false reflections more intoxicating than his cloying perfume
Moreover, beware of the eager witch, prancing along to glean all you’ve ever known
Her glittering nails vying to claim every unique working you’ve built and  grown

Earth to my Mars

There’s a song called ‘Mars’
It reminds me of my family
It’s a song about the shattering reality of youth lost to wars

And it reminds me of my family
I can jot down points pointing how and why
I assign the meanings to it that I do

There’s a song called ‘Mars’
And it’s a rarity on my playlist
It’s a song I don’t talk about
Much like my personal life

Verses ring in my mind
My interpretation simultaneously playing beside it
The audio to two different movies in the darkened theatre of my mind
The tune and words everyone hears
But a story, a movie  only I can see

There’s song called ‘Mars’
And it breaks every part of me
It awakens the forgotten selves
I so conveniently forget about

There’s a song called ‘Mars’
That echoes in the Martian land of broken dreams
Burying me in the ashes of my stars

There is a song that makes me painfully aware
It speaks to me in the unspoken language of pain

This song that buries me in my stars
This song that laments the graves in my heart
This song, is the dirt and gravity
It is the Earth to my Mars




*this song has many interpretations other than the obvious “..youth lost to wars” that I’ve obviously mentioned.


Fluctuating frequencies
Shifting perspectives
Humming and buzzing
In the air around my head
An electric web of ideas
And actions and contingency plans
Alive and thrumming
The static now a mere fly
In the background
Too afraid to near the net
The flowing current meditating
A hum too soothing
A hum preparing and grooming
For the electrifying fireworks
Waiting just ahead

Art of Not Letting Go

There’s this vague sensation
That intensifies to an overpowering but still underlying sentiment
Something I’ve been experiencing these last couple of weeks
A sentiment of satisfaction
A sense of satisfaction upon completion and a work well done
This might sound self-appraising
But I’ve worked my way
Earned this feeling
And I’m going to allow myself this moment of content
When I write of my emotions
And what is generally perceived as, well, emotional
I call those works unaltered
Stains unwashed and wounds raw and uncleaned
But there’s the other stuff too
The stories, the narrations, the ‘grand’ and the whatevers
That I am proud to proclaim I have worked hard on
I am no perfectionist, maybe a particularist
But I have tried to the best of my ability
To make them the best versions of themselves that I can
Without yanking out fistfuls of my hair
And I will continue trying and pushing forward
Honing and sharpening whatever I have sharpened and honed so far
Yes, I will hit dead ends of creative blocks
And phases of mind-numbing self-doubt
But I will cut myself open again and again
No matter how quickly it stops dripping
My craft will drink up to its health
And  I will continue offering
I will falter and doubt
I will go quiet and internally shout
And I will come close to it more than once as I have
But I will not. Let. Go.


When truth comes to you
The words are simple
They are not intricate
And when you put them to paper
The layout is a simplistic map
There for the taking
Should you decide to undertake
And internally reflective navigation
Tracing the valleys and the ridges
The uneven in your uncertainties
The thirsting deserts, terrains tanning your thoughts
And it marks with deadly precision
Where you burned yourself in your forest fires
After you mustered up the will to trek up your unexplored mountains
Now you sit there contemplating your next move
Because when truth comes to you
The words and actions are simple
But they awaken lost desires and the dim fires
So you mark an X on your next
The snoozing volcano
In your sunken seas