UniversalPoets

My mind-layers sit uneasy On the plinth they peer down from, And the Host occupies my eyes. The soil collects under the boots, I dig deeper into the ground, A ladder through the stratosphere, Of Time, of Lives, of ghost eyes. My mind-layers are recreating The rise of the sun yesterday, The Host collects my thoughts Like leaves in a park with a sharpened stick, Dripping with blood and fat, And stinking of mortality. Drink up the sweetness, The blossom that makes the air thick, It is a gift from the Fairy folk, A sweet drug to become addicted, It will fill us up with peace and dreams, And in our human forms we Won’t feel out of place an

It was us against the world. It was just us against the world. And I'll never believe you lied. And I'll never believe what they say. I believe in you and that's all that really matters... Please Sherlock...Just one more miracle...Please...for me.

Seconds do not feel like seconds any more Minutes seem shorter than they did when I was young Years pass by without much ever happening Nothing is right but then again nothing is wrong Maybe that could be the problem That life’s slowly passing me by I walk around with my shoulders arched Like I’m afraid to even try Yes, I’m certain that’s the problem I’m too scared to stop asking why Do things come so easily to others That to me so far have been denied The air does not feel like air any more Each breath feels like it is racing my heartbeat I wonder sometimes which one will  prevail The air in my lungs or th

I know what you want I know what I need I know what the echoes in my head now mean and the sound is blinding and the sirens go and go my heart skips a beat my hands shake as hard as when we first met and I am looking in your eyes into the pools of sadness that could have never contained my own pain hunger regret promise we are not the same we could never be we share nothing of value nothing of any meaning of any mutual understanding and my heart bleeds but the silly thing is tattered and broken it will live it will heal on the crutches of a new beginning I hate your face I hate the hope it's been giving me the kindness it's mislea

Too Many Questions. Not Enough Answers.

Once you venture into the jar there's no place left. Light years close in on me. Each vein restricts, the heart beats backwards, hair snaking; gasping, tears like glass beads quivering in the void around me and within, feeling my eyes bulge and bleed, turning to ruby gems with sharp angles, threading with my tears, coiling around my neck and hands, trying to fend them off. Am I in a clinical waiting room in a hell afloat, which has already seen and been the death of me. Through a portal, solar flare rotating as the capsule slowly tumbles. The only sound left: the broken static from Houston.

I sent my child out to school today With cuts up the length of her arm Knowing that the teachers will just say She doesn't seem the type to self harm I just hope today isn't the day For physical education class I’ll give her a note to be excused But how long can these excuses last? Such a happy girl, always smiling Or so they’re lead to believe at least Such a happy girl, always smiling They don’t know her father is a beast I sent my wife out to work today With the remnants of a bloody nose And bruises to her upper arms That I was hoping would not show I will buy her a long sleeved shirt As a gift to apologise Tell her

I am drowning in the guilt of my existence

Severed friendships and broken hearts in a line Six feet underground in the graveyard in my mind May they rest in peace as a dying memory Marked with a tombstone for everyone to see Said a few words to represent one last goodbye A heart filled with grief yet my eyes remain dry I just want you to know you have all been forgiven As i walk away for good leaving roses for the living

they say that there’s a dance hall right beneath this lake of sawdust where underwater towns have gone astray and I can hear the harpies the bagpipes and I can smell burning petals after we set the house ablaze the blissful ignorance of ghosts and revolvers is pure nonsene – as coup d’état of yours you’re still smiling distantly but one day your goodness will make you lipless, my dear and then I will lull you by the misty weather verdant fragrant lucidly mystical dazzling as a bell jar glance existence matters – ad interim and as the old gatekeeper uses his trembling gestures to swing the pendulum tell

Merely A Photograph By: Douglas Edward Gealy Slanted aside, Beside, the sliding, towering, tilting, fading brick wall Resides, many a blossom, Once burrowed, deep within the fluffy white rains of winter But now, Slanted aside, Beside, the sliding, towering, tilting, fading brick wall Resides, A vibrant red clothe. Perched upon a forgotten sidewalk. And to the left of that, Beside, the sliding, towering, tilting, fading brick wall A bundle of brilliant bright blue blossoms, Wet, with the liquid snows of spring. Brilliant bright blue blossoms, Sensationally shimmering, Showering, in a swarm of gentle yellow rays. Far below

Oh, my Lord, my only God, make me an artist, please! So that, I can show your beauty, with art. Oh, my Lord, my only God, make me a scientist, please! So that I can show, the art of creation, the art of the universe, the art of holiest of holiest. Oh, my Lord, my only God, make me a wise man, please! So that While I can show your beauty, I can see your beauty meanwhile. Oh, my lord, my only god, make me your puppet, please! So that I can become a perfect human being.