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With a tapping on these hollow bones.
Echo excuses.
Yet the tender skin, pulls you in.
These eyes blink as they reconstruct.
Speaking words that silently fill the air, with one harvesting look.
It’s these systems that are used, drummed out of fallen trees that stood watching over the dinosaurs.
Pouring that sticky sap into golden ears.
It’s seems delicious that movement.
Skin that sways like a moon tide, drifting into aching harbours.
Wooden bones, felled in a Pisces rising.
The sweetest time to hew and marvel.
Yet a switching off of this world leaves you vacant.
Wandering in that pasture where the insects buzz and sting.
That filter you use offers no clemency.
As poison needs no audience to flood the blood.
And you are now too far from home to be saved.
So we’ll bury you where you lay.
Covering you in shells and sweet kisses.
Eternally disconnected.

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08/07/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, bones, nature, PoetryTags: art, blood, bones, dinosaurs, godlen, kiss, kisses, love, marvel, moon, nature, Pisces, poem, Poetry, poison, sex, skin, tide, trees 15 Comments

Red #1: Red rain

Clumsily those bones broke.
Splintered and collapsed in the red rain.
An aching for all the world to see.
They want to give you cartoon kisses.
They want to trap your ghost.
You drag it all to the city limits.
Where there was once a river that used to run.
Under blue skies and summer sun.
Now the red rain washes only into your eyes.
Crimsoning your view of the outskirts.
What really is that thorn in your side?
What turned your bones to chalk?
You sit down by the apple tree, dyed a ruby red.
Nursing the self-made scratches.
Covering up the scars.
Who became you inside, when you true self fled?
Hanging your head is too easy, so raise it to the sky.
Push the bones back in place, silently cry in pain.
Wait for the flood.
From the sweet divine red rain.

15/05/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, ghosts, Poetry, rainTags: bones, cartoon, city, cry, ghost, hurt, kiss, pain, poem, Poetry, rain, scar, scars, self-harm, sky, storm, sun 4 Comments

Bare

My bones lay like dust in your eyes.
Is that what you cry?
Seeing such emotion stripped bare.
Yet the heart beats in your mouth.
An oral fixation for the truth.
Tasting every heartbeat. Every pulse.
I burned all this down around me.
To smoke out the ghosts of a past you wanted dead.
Now lay me down.
And kiss me back to life.

05/10/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, heart, Poetry, truthTags: bones, eyes, ghosts, heart, love, photography, poem, poetry, skull, truth 8 Comments

Escape

She ran into the lake, she flew into the trees.
Wandering like a ghost, too anxious to please.
Who she left behind, and who she carried within.
Beyond the bones of love, trapped now beneath her skin.
How she tied to shake them, before she fled her mind.
A sanctuary above her, grown fragile over time.
For they had now invaded, and refused requests to leave.
Confessing words of affection, too hard for her to believe.
So now she sped into the sky, and dove into the ocean.
Killing them most quickly, but guiltily in slow motion.
She hoped she would escape the thoughts, now running through her mind.
Of being held accountable, condemned now for all time.
With a blood on her hands, and sadness in her heart.
Leaving this earth the way she wanted, her end now has a start.

23/06/201812/06/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, escape, Poetry, skyTags: affection, art, bones, escape, heart, love, poem, poetry, rhyme, run, running, skin, sky Leave a comment

Love come rescue

Arrived, 4am. Too tired to see the world for what it was.
Slipping into the cracks and shadows that fill my eyes.
Too drunk to notice that I couldn’t notice you.
Standing with arms outstretched like a bird’s wings.
The wren that always had strength to fly.
That slipped into the open wounds and found our hearts.
It patches us up now, flitting inside my skin.
Pulling feathers over broken bones.
But like me, it does not notice the cartilage cage it builds up around it.
It too now needs help. To lift up and soar again.
Love, please come and rescue us all.
Make us fit to fly and leave this place.
With only fallen feathers to show we were here at all.

07/01/201807/01/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: birds, bones, love, PoetryTags: art, birds, bones, drunk, eyes, love, poem, poetry, shadows, skin, wren 20 Comments

Imitation

Cast your fingers in my spine.
Cocaine kiss (And I’ll feel fine)
Surrender to the ocean floor.
A Neon sea horse, an open door.
Take this ugly, make it smile.
Pluck rehearsed words, seem tactile.

17/12/201717/12/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, drugs, Poetry, seasTags: art, drugs, horse, kiss, neon, ocean, poem, poetry, rhyme, seahorse Leave a comment

A matter of urgency

A slow decline.
That pushes our fingers to the edge.
To find a place more sublime.
Than the tapping keys forever misplaced.
For these bones will crumble, fall and fade.
While the universe will keep on spinning.
Its murky waters in which to wade.
Find the end of that new beginning.
Your fast ascent.

01/12/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, Poetry, space, workTags: bones, computers, fade, fall, poem, poetry, rhyme, space, universe, work Leave a comment

Caged

A song that rattles deep.
Light, like a feathery touch.
Drifting slowly from my soul.
To break a cage is to break the fear that makes my bones.
Chalky claustrophobic bars that dull the sound.
But do not diminish it entirely.
The bird in me longs to fly.
And like love, should soar into the heavens.
To taste the clouds on its tongue.
Yet entombed it flutters. Making a nest in the nightmare.
A locked up lark who wonders if it’s night or day.
When to sing its morning chorus.
The sun has been stolen, so it sings as the hours fade.
Desperate to soar.
Eager to believe.
Hoping the song will someday be heard.

25/11/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: birds, bones, Poetry, prisonTags: bird, birds, bones, cage, heaven, lark, nightmare, poem, poetry, prison, singing, song, soul, sun, trapped 2 Comments

Exhumed

Underneath and in the ground.
Buried deep without a sound.
Lies my body, its shell and bones.
Under layers of rocks and stones.
A tyrannosaur heart that roared at first.
But all too soon, swelled and burst.
You killed me once with a flaming comet.
Across my sky, your departing sonnet.
Our love, which first, defied distinction.
All too soon embraced extinction.
It could not survive the battles we raged.
Like warring beasts, housed in a cage.
You bit, and snapped and left my dying.
A fallen giant, cold and crying.
And so my flesh transformed to oil.
The precious black gold beneath the soil.
And you evolved and thus migrated.
Our DNA of love abated.

19/11/201719/11/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, dinosaur, love, PoetryTags: bones, comet, dino, dinosaur, ending, love, oil, poem, poems, poetry, relationship, rhyme, rock Leave a comment

Don’t believe the past

Unwrap the dreams for another day.
Place them on the table while the time slips away.
Cough up a resolution, to the disorder and the chaos.
Let them take your blood type.
Dig you up like dinosaur bones.
These bones, so tired and hollow.
Broken from the strain of life.
Blink. Breathe. Begin.
Box up those nightmares.
Sweep the past into the corner of the solar system.
Douse yourself in oil and light a spark.
And blaze into a new collection of hours.
Of your borrowed time on earth.
For who knows how long we have.

26/09/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, light, Poetry, timeTags: bones, burn, change, dinosaur, dreams, flame, fossil, life, nightmare, poem, poetry, spark, time, writing 8 Comments

Bag of bones

What is left to discover, underneath of another?
Slipping their hand inside your dreams.
Blink and they’ll hover, laying oily fingers upon you.
Dripping into your world.
Turn you over like heroin.
Underneath those clothes that hang like a skin.
They’ll slip within, and caress your soul.
At least that’s what you believe.
That’s what you’ve been told.
A smiling, nodding bag of bones.

17/08/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, drugs, Poetry, sexTags: bones, dreams, drugs, harm, hurt, poem, poetry, sex, skeleton, skull, world, writing Leave a comment

I’m Out

Standing there waiting to get rich.
Capturing snowflakes and copper cultures.
Pulling at the loose threads of humanity as the earth boils.
Wake, work, repeat on a set shift.
Eyes blinking into obscurity and conformity.
Waiting for the computer to load and the phone to glow.
An alien iridescent-ness which steals your soul.
A final broadcast will not be aired.
Turned down your voice as they block out the sun.
Brick bones that build a city of sad sapphires.
Sparking in the ruins of a Midas dream.
Leave your stuff off me.
Unhook the claw of the social disease.
I disconnect and disappear, logging out of sociopathic media.
Where you capture nothing but a sad slow demise.
I run naked, like in a rainstorm.
Bathed in the sulphur from the solar wind.
Running away from your ivory nightmare.
Leaving the broken cage behind.
I’m out.

24/06/201724/06/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, city, Poetry, Social identityTags: bones, city, computer, escape, midas, phone, poem, poetry, rainstorm, sapphire, sociak, solar, std 2 Comments

Cremate

Break these bones into splinters. Snap the spine and suck the sap.
Throw the pieces on the fire. Douse it all with distain and detriment.
Do not handle me with gloves on.
Touch me deep.
Treat me like a firework, ready to burn. Burning through like phosphors.
Strike the match on my skull. Crinkle and crack such emotions within.
Burning down to my heart, sending my soul to embers.
Floating into your lungs to dwell forever within.

23/04/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, bonfire, fire, Poetry, soulTags: bones, burn, emotions, fire, fireworks, flames, poem, poetry, skull, sky, soul, soulmates 7 Comments

Blink to worlds

There’s a resonance within, these bones that call.
Out to the nothing. Across the table.
Of the banquet to stars, that hearken us home.
And though it’s hard to try, against the world of darkness.
That creeps in with the rain.
It calls to me daily, blinking out of my mind’s eye.
Dropping all mortality and pain.

14/01/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, galaxy, Poetry, starsTags: bones, darkness, eye, future, galaxy, minds eye, poem, poetry, space, stars Leave a comment

Cor(e)

No air to lift me, no oxygen to breathe.
You punch me in the chest and feel my heartbeat.
Cool hands on this fiery organ.
The skin peels away.
The bones crumble like dust.
Your fist removes the pulsing prize.
Dripping blood and love like a stuck beast.
Squeeze me into submission.
Wrench me further from myself.
Steal my heart and put in under the bell jar.
For all the world to watch.
Yet never to touch.

06/11/201630/10/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, bones, heart, heartache, PoetryTags: beast, belljar, blood, heart, latin, poem, poetry, skin, writing 4 Comments

Endeavoured

Don’t you like this honesty?
This radio station that plays nothing at all.
Just truth.
Echoing in the words dripped form your lips.
I should learn to be thankful.
Where do you run to when my anger shows?
Out of the forest, out the woods?
With unstable ground, mine pocked and hazardous.
Running to find salvation.
Searching for confrontation,
Drill a hole into my soul and let the light in.
Burning white light. Let it wash away the tar.
This tonne of hurt weighted through my veins.
A soul starved of understanding. Just meandering, through this grey world.
Your flesh and bone, covering a soul still unknown.
Asking for directions.
Though strange lands, your heart is still home to me.

18/10/201620/10/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, hurt, woodsTags: blood, bones, dali, forest, heart, home, hurt, lands, poem, poetry, salvation, soul, travel, trees, truth, veins, woods 2 Comments

Human

Where is that holding hand, as I slip through the sand of regret?
Being merely human falls flat at your well-trodden feet.
The ones that walked on my back time and time again.
Do you care if my soul survives this?
Scratching away the scars to save yourself.
These sad tears of remorse carve a path down my broken bones.
Crashed through the barrier as I pushed my foot to the floor.
You flew away to save yourself. You left me there dying.
I gave my all and fell short.
Closing my eyes to the judgement that I cannot live up to.
So easy to throw the page away.
To burn the books.
So tired of being only human.

07/08/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, books, hurt, PoetryTags: bones, books, human, hurt, pages, poem, poetry, reading, souls, time, travel 4 Comments

Swallowing teeth

Spun from a dream, where spiders tread.
A view of your world.
Lost and rampant.
Like one of the hypocrites.
Tumbling those words that stick in my throat.
Trading your pointy opinions and brash ultimatums.
Choking on your lullabies and knee jerk goodbyes.
Checking the dirt for such reasons.

04/08/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: anger, bones, Poetry, wordsTags: angre, bones, dreams, goodbye, hurt, poem, poetry, reasons, skull, spiders, teeth, words 3 Comments

Dig

I’ve played the part.
Guilt smeared like oil. Puncturing the lungs and mind.
It dissolved my heart that day to watch you cry.
Disappearing in sulphurous tears, staining your soul.
Touching you, like waking a dream. The hummingbird in my eyes.
The chaos theory on my fingertips. Fragile and strong like a butterfly.
It all fades to black, the soil covers my words.
Ashes to ashes. Wrong to right.
Strung up in the departure. Floating down to the caves below.
Descending in my ascent to acceptance.
The quietening of me.
Dig.
In a few years from now. A million heartbeats from here.
Dig.
Through the oil and coal of time. Passed petrified carnivores and wounded lovers.
And find my bones.
Bleached and mangled, the marrow eaten away.
A Skeleton soul for you to embrace.
East to west, my heart lolled into your direction.
Preserved in time.
Reviving the relic of me.

27/06/201627/06/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, love, Poetry, sadTags: bones, butterfly, dinosaur, grave, guilt, heartbeat, hope, hurt, oil, poem, poetry, skeletons, skull, soil 11 Comments

Second sight

Going towards the resolve, the 20/20 equalling something higher.
A Fissure in my memory, wraps around the stillness.
Allowing the world to hum and clatter around me now in its chaotic busyness.
Your X-rays burn through, avoiding the heart and preventing the cancer.
My realness drifts up towards you, and you cherish it all; pulling it close.
We are everything.
This blindness no longer fits me, like all of these clothes.
Swimming in ignorance makes me long for bliss.
Thank god for you. Your bones and skin, and where you walk.
Where you breathe is where I take a picture.
You heart I steal as a souvenir.
Still like the frosted birds and the rocks we climbed upon.
The sand where we walk.
Refracting in your presence, seeing your glory in my second sight.
Your cat eyes shimmer, as I count your nine lives and try to keep up.

12/04/201613/04/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, eyes, love, sandTags: art, bones, cancer, eyes, light, love, memory, painting, picture, poem, poems, poetry, rocks, sight, skin, snad, writing