Art

Quirky You

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Did you wear yellow to fool me?
“Quirky” you with your bright,effervescent smile.

Your dimples hinted at endless laughter
A gurgling brook sourced at heaven.
And your sparkling eyes were jewels to my vapid heart.

Did you giggle because you knew it tickled me.
Were your jokes even your own?
How can you look like an angel and sound like one
Then turn around and do what you do ?
Nature’s trick is what I call you.

An April fool for every day of the year.
You wear yellow and smile like a child
But there is only black on your brush
And I let you paint all over me.(C)Slumpless

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Let me be better

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A lie is an airbubble.
Small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things

But in my skin
It goes to the heart.
This beating ball of mush not muscle.

What does it feel like this toy ?
You play with its softness much too much
But a lump will form.
A callous from your callousness
Borne of things unsaid and left to fester in this tangled web of all the things I can only doubt.
I screamed once but now my blood is pooled and cooled and I can only whimper and even that is hushed.

“Oh well.” You said “That’s just the way I am.”
And I suppose I can’t blame the gun when I know it was made of others hands.
Let me not become your weapon.
Let me not shoot indiscriminately because I have been cut.
Bend the butt.
Turn inwards in retrospect and be better this time.
Be better.
(C) Slumpless

Reprieve

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You are persistent.

While others dance their merry way across my path

You hold on tight as tight.

You really should be ready to go

You’re beautiful color tells me so.

You have taken all you can from that trunk.

The good from the wood.

You danced in summer

But it’s your time to leave.

Leave. Leaf. Leave.

But you’re holding out for something more.

A stronger gust from a different shore.

Why ? Isn’t it easier to just let go ?

What’s left for you here ?

The emaciated torso of an Atlas who once held up an emerald sphere.

How queer.

But you are loyal.

And while the others rot and fade

The storm will not dissuade.

Maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe it’s Fall for them. But not for you.

We all go through different stages

Your last one now is in my pages

For you will not let yourself be taken

The winds of life have not yet shaken

Thee.

The other leaves find you absurd

But you live on in poetic word.

The last to fall the last to leave

For you there is reprieve

I will take a second look

And press you forever into my book.

(C) Slumpless

Wither

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Does she move around on golden slippers?
Filigree patterns cast about the cobbles as she walks?
Is her hair sunrise ? Her eyes the chocolate we used to share ?
Do her fingers weave coloured threads for your bed
So that her skin touches only delicate cloth when you lay her down.
She must have silk for skin
And breasts made of pure ivory
Her lips must taste like fire
Her flesh the very amber you put on my ring.
She must be angel and devil’s breath
Cast in a mold of the purest gold.
Always young, never old
Pure of thoughts but also bold.
Why else have you left me Sir?
Why else do you dither?
She doth bloom while I must wither.
(C)Slumpless

Tower

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You’re pushing me

One more inch and I’ll be over that wall…

Again.

One more pinch..

Another layer will form.

So do it if you dare.

Turn on me.

But when you look back

You will see nothing but a tower

And I won’t let down my hair.

(C) Slumpless

Self-Contained

slumpless3 Comments

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Oh how lovely it is to find my thoughts in order

Neat. Tidy. A fence around their border.

Not scattered. Not shattered.

They used to be so tattered.

Blowing around me like a tornado.

Me, a rag-doll in the centre

Bruised and tender.

Who was I back then?

I couldn’t tell you.

Each piece of my brain was spinning in different directions.

I couldn’t focus on any section.

I was capable of everything. Of nothing.

I felt… I felt… small.

I felt it all.

Too much. Much too much.

Oh how nice it is to be so contained.

So restrained.

Knowing exactly how I feel.

Keeping it ‘real’.

I am at last restoring.

Then why do I feel so boring?

(c) Slumpless