-
Notes: 4 / 1 year ago
Souls trapped in a Quantum Entanglement thrall
From days long since passed…
There is such an awful distance now; a void, with no light or sound
where what was between us may yet perish… never to be found
Beyond my straining grasp this chasm does extend very, very far
You’re in another world entirely; it’s so throughly, so utterly bizarre
I still think of you, always, and it seems you wereneverin my life
(I wonder… no, of that period all you can presumably recall is strife)
Aye, you’d probably think I’d be sorry, as now all is said and done
but on these lonely lowly gallows I am inclined to apologize to none
If you see the end a’coming you’d instinctively reach for your gun
but when it all suddenly sneaks up on you, finality has already won
I awake, broken, and remember, of course you were there
Mercy? Threats? Leave that place be you tiresome wench!
How dare you go, leave me high and dry but instill within me
a thirst for the intangible perfect I’ll never come to quench!
How dare you stand with that girlish smile beneath the ledge
whilst all around you the downpour of acid rain does drench!
We sat, you on a battleship, me in field, and you asked of me
what I feared but I did not hesitate to up-‘n’-over the trench!
You know it, I know it, but I still think of you, when I’m writing
In my white-knuckled hands a pen with cracked case I clench!You say the things in dreams
that I wish you’d say by day
Why must you still persist?
Why can’t I banish you away? -
Notes: 9 / 1 year ago
An Unrequited Requiem
This is a poem I wrote a while ago, in a different time. Unfortunately, it was dedicated to somebody whom evidently didn’t want it, whom obviously didn’t want me anymore, and most certainly didn’t want to engage in the funerary proceedings which I held as incumbent. I still mourn for what was lost but the grief is lessening by the day thankfully.
This piece was formed from the shrapnel and debris that were left scattered at ground zero, the epicenter of the implosion if you will - when the wounds were so very raw, and yet I was in such a state of shock that I barely registered them yet because their effects were still masked by the resulting stupor. In hindsight, I wrote it almost as an obituary, and, in a way, an admission of guilt.
It’s something I thought I would have kept forever hers, even though she didn’t want it and basically seemed to resent it, but time has passed, and I would like it archived. The point will come when all that remains of what we had are words I’ve gifted to her and the memories we gave to one another… I still wonder how it is that such a deplorable eventuality only brings one of us to tears still. -
Notes: 16 / 1 year ago
The Condition of Post-Phantasm Malcontent
I see now in the perfect acuity of hindsight
that I have valued you beyond your worth
My pool of appreciation is decidedly finite
and undoubtedly we are at point of dearth
For the dam is broken, in escaping twilight
That the blackness must conceal the birth
of the product formed in a fading firefight;
the one we had knowing the victor’s curse
If you’re asking how it is I am still so terse
perhaps remember you’re my life’s highlight
So what is it I can do? But write my verse
and cry into my opium, in position of a serf
to the emotion and anguish of my new sight
And though I know the truth, it is still worse
For now I know for certain that I wear blight
(one so many since and after knew as rite)
A malady no medicine or matron may nurse
And that is that of knowing one is contrite
though realizing they’ve done nothing adverse
And coming to see their loved one outright
so that all their virtues are really the inverse
The greatest gift that you will ever know
is slipping from your grasp, tho you’re glad
And all your comfort comes from the fact
that you just don’t know what it is you had
There is a point where all clock hands
will slow and then it will come to pass
Where time itself will pause, the sands
of it will boil, bubble, turning into glass
A slick mirror so very abhorrent indeed
Not showing your reflection but at last
the real you is standing in your steed
And in that moment of clarity,
ill-gotten though it surely was
all of your destructive asperity
is seen as what it truly caused
A protective shield of severity
which left us both in insularity
For it’s purpose was to shun
away a boy, whose temerity
in chasing you from the first
was born in a sheer sincerity
of affection and respect and
all the rest of love’s irregularity
Even though you always knew
that between us was disparity
of a commitment and of verity
You still proffered the illusion
that there wasn’t such charity
because you like the feeling
of someone caring, familiarity
sourced from capitalizing upon
offers found in this peculiarity
Our portal was sustaining but is now closing
The walls of our fortress city began corroding
Without shield your true identity is exposing
a revelation foretold but since ever foreboding
On scrolls of my flesh there is the record
of how we’re failures yet so unrepentant
And the days with you so unfairly adored
Believe me, are very unlikely to be restored -
Notes: 12 / 1 year ago
Paint my portrait in Tesseract Cubism
You have glimpsed my often
shielded core of vulnerability
Something my future scholars
would laugh at and call heresy
Proclaiming ‘no girl could hold
this claim over man such as he’
But it is true! One girl, this girl,
saw things no other one will see
Without her, one boy, this boy
will never be all that he could beI know it’s trite, and oh so throughly said before
in love songs and ballads from those days of yore
The way I’ve chased you is echoed in mythic lore
but your words and ways I cannot help but adore -
Notes: 2 / 1 year ago
One day we’ll make love on smouldering Rhodesian sand
I shall disappear into the blackest night
As even the penumbra’s murky shadow
and with a enraged wraith’s fading fight
Though always, when in your meadow,
I am so amongst the friends and ghosts
But memories rock my sleep to-and-fro
And all are divided into leasts and mosts
Birds sing my praise from the hedgerow
Snakes hiss scorn in their undergrowth
My vantage is forever on edge though
Bordered by the maze craft of opinion
Alone, situated plainly in your dominion -
Notes: 3 / 1 year ago
My sweetheart songbird with machine gun flair
The problem with being in a downward spiral is that even when you turn around you’re still being pulled down, only now you can’t see where you’re going.
I feel such subtle emptiness
A silence of painful rejection
So much so it almost seems
you have sought the erection
of a literal wall between me and
the only object of my affection
Of all the girls, in all the world
well, you were my selection
So how is it you could ever think
I’d veer in another one’s direction?The idea of you I’ve idolized;
an immaculate conception, tho
I sometimes fear the real you
is not the girl in my projection -
Notes: 4 / 1 year ago
Ode to an abdicated Muse
Fingertips oh so divine
paint with flawless ace
so many delicate lines
Seen from outer space
combine in composition;
that of your pretty face
Angles sharpened and
curves thus interlaced
Mercurial features drift
in flux, with no solid place
Sapphire stare causes
all my pretense to erase
Lustered chestnut hair
of an overflowing pace
Sanguine lips stir in me
no will but to embrace
Infused shadowed lines
of a fine obsidian lace
Your sharp intelligence
takes my ego in displace
A beautiful facade but
with succubus encased
A fiercely proud sylph
moves with angelic grace
An architectured Goddess
but with no human trace
A faerie’s dusting
of daemonic pride
So many past lives
wordlessly inscribed
In almost every detail
she’s sublimely pure
A flourished nobility,
I’m profoundly sure
With no worldly pomp;
just a naked couture
A pixie’s innocence
but a siren’s allure
Such perfection does
nothing but ensure
till I meet my maker
I am forever inured
to rebuttal or respite,
by God, the only cure
Such angry poise but
always fearlessly sincere
One sole cascading caste
of a nymphean veneer
A laugh with an awful
power to hopelessly endear
A smile that could beguile
an even very wary seer
A wrath no king or God
may hope to commandeer
A fury that could leave
the world in everloving fear
A picture that haunts
my every single dream
So many eons of trial
evoke nary a scream
An artist’s aesthetic appreciation
Seen in realms of such elation
A bard’s cooing poetic affection
Found in this depth of dejection
A goddess surely walks amongst us
Her breath imbues vitality and new life
Two souls intermingle and coalesce
An assassin with so crystalline a knife
My innocence I bartered for
but you were the highest bidder
Shooting stars collide in the sky
I do wish that you’d reconsider
All alone to dwell on that
which does naught but hurt
My ivory tower now so
adorned with a spray of dirt
A trek across a minefield
I do so hope is now inert
I’ll try to raise my Galleon
from its grave in a desert
I still always keep your image
but my eyes they must avert
Like quantum physics, I fear
my observation may pervert
the sanctity of your likeness
and its loveliness so invert
A life expended in
an unearthly lust
and for my trouble
dismissal so unjust
Even a life of toil could not
pay my shameful debt
I doubt that I will make it back
but tell them not to fret
Who I am now is but a half
and I worship that silhouette
I’m still so very infatuated
by my last brunette vignette
My heart still holds your bust,
dwelling on your statuette
In a place not far from death
I miss you so much [sobriquet]
I have seen the most
refined Aphrodite beauty
and poems in her tribute
I’ll forever call my duty
All Things Literary
Find my Prose
Welcome to my humble writing blog. There's a lot to see here, if you care to see it. Enjoy your stay!
FEATURED WORK:
An Ode to an Abdicated Muse - A poem demonstrating my infatuation's huge capacity for aesthetic appreciation
A Sniper's Perch [REDUX] - A short story narrating the mechanical executions and detached ponderings and reflections of a lone Russian sniper during the brutal climax of WWII
The Last Bard’s Tale [REDUX]
An Epic Poetry series (in progress)
Part One
You'll find Alexandria when the Dawn Commeth
A short story told from the perspective of a man facing his fast-approaching death. The narrative follows the struggles of two starcrossed lovers kept apart by wicked divine intervention.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
The Poem
The Story
The Author
Wide-eyed, wild-haired boy posts poems, short stories, and various other miscellaneous creative writing.
My name is Ryan. I am a wordsmith, storyteller, fantasizer and self-destructive habitual hyphen abuser.
Come give me your love:
my OkCupid profile
Ask me something, anything. Be bold.
