Doubtful conviction

How brazen you stand before me.
Tall like the pillars of salt.
Solid tears of discomfort.
Feathered scars which belie the much contemplation.
Demand, yet deferring all responsibilities.
For a soul in crises.
My unwavering yeses, let you climb this tower of babel.
As your skin toughened and the callouses were caused.
Across your heart.
What you demand, I will not give.
As you move through lineage, an acorn into a king.
All parts that I once loved, and secretly still do.
Still.
Symptoms of a revelation, breathing beneath.
You force my hand, quoting paradoxical scripture.
With borrowed hypocritical teeth.
The milk makes way for honey, and my walls begin to fall.
Paralysed with selective objectivity.
How could I refuse?
Nothing left to lose.

02/05/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, god, heavenTags: angels, art, change, fall, god, heaven, honey, love, milk, paradise, pillars, poem, Poetry, revelation, teeth, trust, uncertainty 6 Comments

Throb the galaxy

Intertwining catastrophic systems.
Bleaching my blood with fear.
This world is spinning.
Shaking each soul off the dirt beneath.
Cast out into cosmical adrift.
A fever rushes me like a ghost.
Pulling my eyelids open.
Trying to breathe while the moon crashes into my skull.
Each emotion prickles my skin like radiation.
Settling in my soul.
Hungry and full, the devil in the divine.
I push these bones out into space.
Catching my heartbeat which erratically reminds me,
that all is not well.
With each moment, the condition intensifies.
Peeling isotopes from my skin.
Trying to get back to a past now dead.
In dwindling air and sense I lift into a trance.
Floating away from what I know I must do.

02/04/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, chaos, spaceTags: body, change, devil, divine, galaxy, heart, past, poem, Poetry, soul, space, time 5 Comments

Decaying orbit

A Void that aches into eternity.
This need to fill the expanding space.
Silenced by the angels, who hush their lips.
And shake their heads.
Nothing really matters, as the skin drifts away.
My soul, pulled away from bone.
Coughing over the cosmos.
Settles now on strange new terrain.
Melted by time and burnt by the suns which swallow.
Pick out the dead from between my nails.
While shaking into fear and excitement once more.
Bathe in the sound of something unknown.
This broken galaxy which continues to dance.
To music no one will ever hear.

31/03/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, galaxy, spaceTags: angels, art, body, change, death, light, orbit, poem, Poetry, soul, space, sun 5 Comments

Your reconstruction of self

Through heavy storms this heart doth beat.
Battle born and weary.
Feathers frayed liked angelic irony.
Patched and nearly severed.
Where do you go to be reborn?
While wolves lick between your teeth.
And though pregnant hopes swell and ebb.
Through cobweb sticky emotions
Through distance in your eyes.
The cries of sincere doubt corrode quickly in your salty waves.
Smashed into pieces upon your unwelcoming rocky shore.
Yet something crawls out of the ocean.
Something that slayed the terrors of the deep.
To reach up and scale that towering mountain.
That you placed there to warn those out to sea.
Of how close to god you now sit and suffer.
How away from us you wish to be.

18/01/202311/01/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, sea, tearsTags: change, emotions, fight, flight, monster, ocean, poem, Poetry, sea, self, tears, waves Leave a comment

Your pilgrimage

I love your silver dressed dreams.
Those darlings, they call us all to look.
To peek and prod in an unforgiving time.
Hook your hate around my hand.
Thrown in the bag to drown.
Kittens, pebbles in your pocket.
You call this your pilgrimage.
A racing stumble through our great beyond.
But that was where I found you.
Heaped and tired, all covered in stars.
Can you walk the line?
Can you take some time to change?
Wrap this love around you heart, swallow and then re-arrange.
Your pilgrimage.
You deep mistake.
Your breaking through, my privilege.

11/01/202307/01/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: drown, love, starsTags: cats, change, drugs, journey, kittens, life, Pilgrimage, poem, Poetry, stars 6 Comments

A Dreadful something

Bridging across the expanse.
Brain before heart.
A dreadful something lurking in between.
We stumble, crawl, carry onward.
A fear in every step.
A freedom threatening.
The forest we left kept the darkness.
The sea to the north promising a drowning.
Loneliness our only company.
Hope our only guide.
Go forth and spit in the eye of Satan.
And love him for the barriers and trials.
Pray and wipe the spit away.
Keep stripping away the veils.
For the darkness and despair will not claim.
And he needs the most love, all the same.

28/12/202228/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: hope, satan, strengthTags: art, change, dark, darkness, devil, forest, hope, journey, monster, motivation, poem, Poetry, satan, sea, strength 4 Comments

Turbulent visions of love

You rage within me. A silent storm.
A tempest with temptation to drag me through heaven.
Cutting my wrists on the divine.
I let go, disappearing into the eye of all your wonder.
Lost in your turmoil and torrential rains of change.

21/12/202226/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, rain, stormTags: change, desire, divine, heaven, hurrican, lost, love, lust, poem, Poetry, storm, tempest, winds 4 Comments

Little wounded wing

Little wounded wing.
You never knew how dangerous it could be.
Flying through life as you were.
Hoping others, like you, wanted to sing.

Little spark of light.
No one told you how maddening it would be.
Existing how you are, so special.
The rules never showed you how to fight.

Life it took a hold and stained.
Into your feathers and soul it pained,
you to see how this world really was, behind the lies.
Through maligned and deceitful eyes.
After wandering your many trails, deserving of fairness and love.
The world is dark and mattered.
Cruel and harsh and tattered.
To a creature who sees the good in everyone from above.

Little broken heart.
We all told you how not to cry.
No one cares for water spent.
The gulf between us now so far apart.

Hey little dying bird.
You told yourself in the end.
The only thing that was missing, was love.
And love was the only thing they no longer heard.

19/11/202222/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: birds, change, deathTags: bird, birds, change, crying, dark, death, despair, feathers, hope, life, poem, Poetry, tough, wings 4 Comments

Firmament

There is no difference in what is happening here.
As above, so below.
You catch the sparkle, your reflection off a million diamonds.
Twinkling in the heavens.
Radiating your truth.
Do you blur with movement, or by the lies that cough up like dust.
I was once unsettled.
Once covered with earth.
Repositioned by the hand of fate to a terrible place.
The blood in the diamond that knew my face.
Yet it is more precious now, the life I hold in my hands.
Why ask the sun not to shine.
For the moon to course through the years.
You ask for simple but wish for different.
Which disrespects God who has it all planned.
Unstitch the heavens for me.
Open up your veins for him.
All the same yet convinced in its difference.
If you want to bring the heaven and the stars down to earth.
You must rise at least to meet them.

08/11/202212/12/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: god, space, starsTags: blood, change, destiny, diamonds, fate, god, heavens, light, moon, poem, Poetry, self, space, sparkle, sun 4 Comments

Hope against Hope

The blood settles, as if time holds its breath.
Cupped in a hush, frightened to flow.
The rest awaits.
A shuffle in the mind.
The attic of the body, like a restless Dorian Gray.
When the eyes reveal the true horror of the ordinary.
A Day, much like yesterday.
Comfort swallows, the needed search forever longing.
Secure and safe.
How else do we move, if not shaken from the spot.
The mountain beckons, a summit that seems never conquerable.
A defeatist voice that echoes in your ears.
Humming its way through your muscles, reversed intent.
Until a swing of the pendulum, a signal fire of age.
Of time wasted, sand spilling from your hands.
Dust in the blood.
Your time is now, it was actually then.
We enjoy the blessing every day, to start again.

15/10/202215/10/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, body, hopeTags: art, blood, body, change, climb, comfort, escape, hope, hurt, light, loss, mind, mountain, poem, Poetry, safe, time, voices Leave a comment

Days of correction

We wait for you, as the heavens fall.
As the skin begins to be pulled from our bones.
The sea foam swallows.
Thunder follows.
And all around the sparks flicker.
We wait for you to catch up.
The lead in your blood to bleed out.
A correction, an alteration.
A mind frame recalibration.
I wait for you, till the end of time.
Modifying what was placed inside your DNA.
The world is ending, and time hangs like a necklace.
Heavy and beautiful around your neck.
You need to move faster.
Evolve and leave the husk of darkness resigned,
to a space only the ghosts will welcome.
We are in the age of correction.
A simple state of detection.
Of knowing what to take, and what to leave behind.

24/08/202215/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, change, timeTags: angel, beauty, bones, change, correction, dna, hope, light, motivation, necklace, poem, Poetry, sparks, time Leave a comment

Falling on a bruise

Engulfed in sweet delicious fires.
The needling and licking of moments in time.
Spread out and traversing dimensions.
That lead me ever closer to home.
It shook us momentarily.
A pain that marched along the spine.
Crumbling each vertebrae.
Making its way to the heart.
A fall for the nine thousandth time.
Crumbling the scabs not yet healed.
A rise, for the nine thousand and one.
The bruise, disappearing in the dark that surrounds.
It all felt distant.
Told perhaps, by someone else.
Yet lonely births space and freedom.
And the marshes and reeds whispered an awakening.
The pain, transformed to knowledge.
The bruise, fading in light of a new dawn.

31/07/202231/07/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: bruise, change, hopeTags: art, bruise, change, dark, dawn, hope, light, pain, poem, Poetry, tomorrow Leave a comment

Sending myself flowers

When the universe rests, and slumbers in my mind.
And all around me is still.
I take this chance to apologise.
For who I have become. For who I wanted to be.
An apology for me.
Within these cracks and slithers of my soul.
That remain unfettered to moral decay.
I brush the hurt away.
And send myself flowers.
Hoping to turn over those leaves, and find you there.

13/07/202211/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: eternity, flowers, soulTags: apology, art, books, brush, change, fiction, flowers, hope, leaves, love, poems, Poetry, soul, world Leave a comment

Once never here

Mind and muscle try to escape gravity.
Standing too soon.
Trying to lift off into the unknown.
Far away from here.
Hanging onto nothing but indecision.
You close your eyes to the jet stream, and that fear of falling.
You feel it now in your veins.
Coursing through the difference like a teenager.
Struggling for understanding.
But they could never see. They would never know.
Eager to cover you in un-precious stones.
Which is why you must leave.
To sail on the solar winds that taste of honey.
Forget the palatableness of decay.
For a distant shore will feel sweeter.
Than this rocky edge of adolescence.

06/07/202211/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: fight, time, youthTags: age, art, change, fly, flying, gravity, poem, Poetry, solar, space, stones, sun, teenage, time, youth 6 Comments

A formidable heartbeat

When the light is snuffed.
By the hand of God.
A recklessness washes within.
Out of the black oozes defiance, and a new religion.
A sense of purpose on ledges and lives.
As quiet as the devil is, and as loud as god.
Your own voice rattled and hums.
Can you denounce the logic which spreads like honey across your mind?
Swallow it down, the nasty taste of tolerance.
And set fire to the warning that came in on a fresh breeze.
Who knows where it has been.
Who knows what it has seen.
You know your own beyond the world of your eyelids.
And deep within your solitary ravine.
The slush and sway of the overwhelm.
A world urging you to stay.

13/06/202215/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, Devil, religionTags: art, black, change, death, devil, ending, fire, god, honey, mind, morbid, poem, Poetry, religion, tolerance, wind, world Leave a comment

Selfish servitude

Now that we are so anaesthetised.
We settle for blankness.
Without any compromise.
You suck the soul from us every day.
Filling the void with countenance and suspicion.
Such a beautiful paradox, what a time to be alive.
So lazy by design.
You wear the masks of the familiar.
Cutting the ties that bind us to our future.
And who are we to utter, the silent stutter into separation.
Your desperations keep us scared.
There is no oil here, only pits of anger.
Bubbling to the surface.
Such disturbance now at the house.
The roaring of a mouse, of a nation who were followers.
Now numbering the chorus that’s out of control.
Democracy hangs in the air, like the miasma of the 19^th century.
Fogging London once more with a noxious distaste.
We all wear our own tin foil crowns.
Crunching the bones of despair.
The Fear of standing for something.
I am but one of many, lounging in my paralysis.
A self-inflicted state of disconnect.
Waiting for the numbness to arrive.

11/06/202211/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: anger, pain, selfTags: britain, change, crown, Democracy, drugs, EU, law, masks, nation, numb, parliment, poem, poems, Poetry, time, uK 8 Comments

Devoir

The noise was smothered by the night.
Lain down in god’s whisper.
So deep the mind fell.
Beyond fossilised creatures and secrets in tar.
The moon hummed in its milky orbit.
Delicious solitude descended.
A quietening of existence.
That is where I’ll find you.
Beyond the chaos and the trauma that litters these lives.
Your sanctuary for my soul.
A marbled palace adorned with tears and precious memories.
A temple I wish to practice our religion.
So light those candles and sing me to sleep.
With conflicting thoughts of tomorrow.
And your voice crawling over me.
That when the day blazes into this skin.
Purifying each sin.
The renewal within, is possible.
Only by your sweet vow.
To remain.

08/06/202208/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, peace, timeTags: care, change, lonely, love, marble, moon, peace, poem, Poetry, pray, religion, solitude, tears, temple, time, tomorrow 2 Comments

Death is little more

With all this talk of heaven.
Lapping at your feet.
Washes only the surface.
Never flowing deep.
For inside the bones are rotten.
And the sins stain and swell.
Redemption is forgotten.
Perpetuating this hell.

04/06/202201/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: heaven, hell, lifeTags: art, bones, change, dali, feet, heaven, hell, life, poem, Poetry, redemption, rotten, talk, tide, wash, wave 3 Comments

Typhoid and swans

Summer days with rain.
A tearing at this side.
Spilling petals and ruin.
A Day with the night.
The moon, coming into view pocked and dusty.
Out in the ocean, cast into life.
Waiting for the smile to flow from a sentence.
Communication, then nothing.
Nothing, then communication.
A constant pulse of anxious disregard.
Release now, free of feelings.
Feathers dipped in oil.
Diseases and love that swallow like a lake.
To eat off of chipped china, filling stomachs swollen with greed.
And such need.
To scrub away the blood that stains.
The candy stuck in the tooth.
We are all but sticks floating down the river of life.
Passing through the weeping willows of the world.
Making our way to swamps, not seas.

18/05/202207/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, life, oceanTags: art, change, communication, day, food, life, meal, moon, ocean, poem, Poetry, seas, swans, water Leave a comment

Fragile to tomorrow

Fill the voids with treasure.
Beauty to banish the dark.
Fill your mind with flowers.
Because you know what is coming.
The fingers around your heart.
Cold as the hope you had for change.
Creaking against tomorrow faintly.
Delicate as god’s trust.
You suck the petals to feel the bloom.
Mother’s womb, and all the dreams you buried.
But the soil and sadness win out.
And the treasure turns to tin foil.
This gloomy dissonance reverberates.
As you fade once more into silence.

16/05/202216/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: depression, tomorrow, unhappyTags: art, change, depression, flowers, gloomy, god, grey, music, pain, poem, Poetry, tomorrow, treasure Leave a comment

Arrêter de tomber

Lies, they kept her from heaven.
A raging ghost of self-contempt.
Is it fake when inside there is truth?
For in the dark, all can see her tears.
Slipping into the cracks of hell.
Crying out to change.
/
Fall
Into
Heaven/Hell

11/05/202201/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: heaven, hell, holyTags: art, change, creative, despair, devil, fake, ghosts, girl, heaven, hell, lost, medusa, poem, Poetry, sad, sadness, tears, truth Leave a comment

Origami razor blades

We lost some strength we can’t replace.
The soul was bared, in places unprepared.
Fate slipped across our wrists.
Eternity flashed across our eyes.
But no demise.
Those feelings won’t ever fade.
Memories now scorched into us.
Illuminating our real selves.
I saw what I wanted to change.
And where to now?
What siren call, or ocean tide beckons.
Nothing here wants to remain.
Yet we cannot leave just yet.
Until the broken is repaired.
And the sacred is shared.
We must climb in place.
Plastering the walls with pretty views.
Painting our souls spiritual hues.
Ones that glow a beauty from within.
Showing us fragile and divine.
Folded out of angelic paper wings.
A product once more of god’s design.

07/05/202227/03/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, spiritual, suicideTags: angel, beauty, change, design, divine, eternity, god, lost, ocean, paper, poem, Poetry, pretty, siren, wings 5 Comments

Majesty and the mystery

Stolen time which seeps out of blackness.
Returned like pearls to the sea.
All we know, we have forgotten.
Clearing the realms for wonders to birth.
We close our eyes and catch the breath that escapes.
The Sustaining mist of God.
As this mind coughs up havoc, with its mystery of the unknown.
That pulls with a gravity to the dark and tragic.
God cradles us in feathery hope.
Kissing promise once more into our blood.
Gravitating away from grief.
Running water of certainty in our blood.
For we never truly know what exists.
Beyond the curtain of our eyelids.

20/04/202220/03/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: faith, god, hopeTags: change, dark, darkness, faith, feather, god, gravity, hope, light, pearls, poem, Poetry, space 5 Comments

Ascend

What have you done?
Today, this life; where have you gone?
Which angry root did you pull out?
What weak bone did you break?
What flood turned to drought?
Which love to an ache.
You may forget everything in the end.
As time shuffles by, and souls begin to bend.
But you have each moment, each second in the sun.
A little tiny diamond, reserved for each one.
To pick up today, and more the day after.
A small little treasure, like happiness and laughter.
So forget the mould and oil that covers you like gloom.
And go out and discover, shoot for the moon.

03/04/202202/04/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, hope, moonTags: bones, change, diamond, hope, inpsire, moon, motivation, poem, Poetry, rhyme, rocket, soul, space, strong, sun, time, tomorrow, treasure, weak 6 Comments

Tiny empire

Discovered by mistake.
A breaking heart hidden under the couch.
Buried beneath the earth.
And if it broke and if I died; what world is left behind?
A towering empire of loose threads.
Pulled at many moments in a life undone.
How precarious those moments were.
Towering up to god, a shaking finger of Babel.
Crying out in many tongues to a deaf creator.
The holder of my heart.
Now these racing rats and spiders crawl over me at night.
What a sight, it is to see a hollow mind explode inside out.
My little world of mistakes, dew drops to effort.
Tsunamis of remorse.
When heartbreak altered my course.
A treasured time where the earth held still.
And I held my breath, for you looked inside.
And watered my garden.
Tended to the flower that had crawled away from the sun.
My tiny empire, rebuilt by the one.

23/03/202220/02/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: flower, god, heartacheTags: art, change, empire, flower, garden, god, heartache, hope, loss, love, mistakes, Poetry, rocks, sea, spiders, sun 5 Comments