Heavy Eclipse

Things are getting kinda heavy in the now
I feel, I’m drowning deep underground
Want to disappear before I turn into a blood thirsty hound
To catch my breath without that heavy sound
And to find the inner peace & my deeper ground

My world seems plain & a bit insane these days
Perhaps it’s my eyes covered in the shadow haze
My favorite colour blue is turning into this gloomy shade
Burning all my energy but still can’t keep up the pace
My heart is beating heavy drums while I walk in a daze
I want to believe it’s all unreal & it’s just a phase

You see, the small green is eclipsing the infinite pink
The thoughts are on the brink of the insanity & suffering
The mind draws me to this dungeon, where demon is the king
And words are written on its  rough surface with my dark red ink
The pain body appears so fresh even though its condition isn’t mint

May be I’m simply just dreaming
Or may be this has a deeper meaning
Where I find myself wandering the unending scene
Where the Gods too have the darker side or so it seems
And the Demons on the other hand, aren’t all that mean
They face each other & separated by this radiant seam

It’s burning everything into nothing
This place where I’ve reached has No-things
The deeper calling with no screaming
Where the screen in my head stops blinking
The song of my life that I’ve been singing
It brings me back to the surface & stops me from sinking
The eclipse disappears to reveal the heart that’s beating
It’s the moment where the heavy melts down to the very being

I am Navin from Denmark. An engineer / CAD technician by profession & quite passionate about what I do for living. I express myself, share my experiences, the pain, the joy and what I realize through my poems, which I publish on my blog https://navinspoems.com/

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Kept memories

I’ve caught myself re-creating conversations we use to have with one another in my head From time to time
Replaying scenarios of past disputes
Though editing my dailogues response
Just to imagine how such an event would’ve truly taken place…
In my mind
Only to realize that though it may have changed the outcome that was then…
The inevitable would eventually come to fruition
Which leads us back to now…
Pondering of irrelevant moments to which could never
&
Should NEVER be changed
I am a writer/poet/aspiring author of 33 years. Writing has always been a scapegoat for me to escape the trials of reality and create my own world through the illustrations of my own. Poetry has always been a passion of mine and am currently writing/completing my first poetry autobiography. This body of work has been crafted since my younger days and I’m very excited to finish it and release it to the masses. I’ve never been great at expressing myself face to face or within crowds, so for anyone that ever wanted to know who Kenesu TRULY is… you will soon find out. If you would like to stay connected with me upon my poetry journey, please visit www.lover0flife.wordpress.com and follow me there. Social media links will be coming soon. Thank you for your time.
If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Delete

Do not send
Me
Your address
Do not pretend
I know
Where this will lead
I am stronger than the previous
Without cancellation
But without notice
I have an idea for you
That may grow out of control
But you will like it
Then we may change
And another merry wanderer
Will find us together
How solemn to be bewitched
How wondrous to be alone
I cannot complete it
Distress makes a tone
It is sound off sound on again
And the cycle is Hertzian
In knowledge we may find something
Little, something
Big
But don’t bother settling
Unless you have,
Don’t bother
None of it adds up
When the arrows point at each other
But brothers know some things
I don’t care where it ends up
In the garbage is fine with me
But melt the planet while you’re at it, please
Discordant residue of somnolence
Send me an easier day job
I beg of you, send me something easy
I can do it
I can’t do it
I won’t remember who I am
Then to the nurse
And turn around
And the smile on her face
I wonder why you showed up
When I did not
And there is my curse, waiting for me outside
Without knowledge
I can resist temptation
But with success, I crave both
Have a heart, and let go
It won’t kill you
But when it does…
varjak(Baby) lives in (filthy) California and works in (corrupt) pharmaceuticals. He writes poetry recreationally and can be found at https://burndoubt.wordpress.com/ where he keeps track of his life when he can find it and writes poetry all other times. He loves meeting new people unless they are whiney, egomaniacal, argumentative, disrespectful, or abusive. Hello from him to you

If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Breaking Sound

The Breaking Sound

A wide smile on every single picture, but when you see her in person you claim her bitch face brings an ice cold feeling to your bones. You say she has no feelings, you say there’s a hole in her chest but you don’t really care because that’s not the hole in her body you’re interested in. When you get to know her you find a little trace of light in her eyes and you drain it out until her pupils became night dark.

Every time you kissed her did you hear the breaking sound? Did you hear her reach into her velvet, red insides, breaking a part of her ribs to fill the hole someone left in you? Do ice cold women do that? Did you hear the breaking sound every time you made her believe in your point of view? The sound of her will breaking to fit within your rules, the sound of her bones breaking when she tried to make herself look smaller than you, the sound of her hips breaking every time you made her work on top, the sound of her lips breaking every time she had to fake it to build your ego up.

She lived believing you have four hands: two to keep on her throat suffocating her and two to keep over your ears so you wouldn’t hear the bones in her neck breaking. But here’s the thing about women like her. They get hurt but don’t show it. They run to a corner like a wounded wolf to lick their wounds and the taste of their own blood makes them realize they’ve had enough.

Here’s the thing about women like her who will build up people like you with parts of their own body. They will stick their hand into the ground, take the soil and fill the hole they’ve made on their body trying to fix you. She will disappear into thin air, fade away because for you she was never a person, she was an illusion, she was a low-budget romantic movie you wanted her to be. For you she wasn’t a person.

She will be stronger and you will still be running around, scared of loneliness, weak as a leaf underneath her heel, looking for spread legs to contain and hide your insecurities, you will still think people are your medicine.

The breaking sound is gone and so is she.

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