Arrive/Depart/Transfer

Stripped back today’s waste.
Our suspicion rises.
What you choose to do, what flounders.
Prepared to turn me inside out again.
Airport lighted, with the sun still sleeping.
Bore me down to my appled-core.
Picking out the seeds you planted.
And that I washed with tears.
Alighted.
My boarding pass heart in hand.
To see such new wonders in your eyes.
Breaking from home.
Rest your head on my shoulder.
I will read you bad poetry.
Whispered deeply.
Into your heart.
You loved me today, as the night colours away.
It breathed new life inside.
Returning from Saturn and watching the universe tip over.
The others none the wiser.
Souls that were drawn out of committee.
Leached from the darkness.
Hard to take off.
Now night-time while travellers sleep.
With you, I always fly.
That south western sky, heading to the red earth.
For you are everything.
And all I need.

24/09/202217/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: fight, love, travelTags: airport, alight, australia, flight, fly, love, poem, Poetry, sky, sleep, time, transfer, travel 6 Comments

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

There there

I taste the powder on your skin.
The remains of the moon and ash of my soul.
Obliterated by the look in your eyes.
The ability to cut me deep.
And tumble my tiny empire.
In spite of everything, there’s still the stars.
And they sparkle now.
Hung up to light my way.
Swallowing galaxies like fireflies.
Tumbling in the dark.
I watch these words as they spirit from your mouth.
Driving new ghosts, to new ends.
Staking claims to old wounds.
Rubbed now with salt from my tears.
Collapsed into years, and habits that can’t be shook.
So let me cover you once more in feathers.
Taken from the bed we shared.
Whilst you kiss the air, and us, goodbye.
I watch you fly, deep into the inky night.
Disappearing into the gloom, like my hope.
Untouchable, all too soon.

09/06/202209/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: ghost, moon, skyTags: art, bed, black, fly, ghosts, goodbye, hurt, ink, lips, moon, night, poem, Poetry, powder, sky, sleep, stars 9 Comments

Beauty trapped

Bind my heart, break my bones.
Sneak in when the lights are off.
When my guard is down.
Snap my soul and slip inside.
Overwhelm and consume me like heroin.
The addict in me pulls you near.
Breathe me in, suck me out.
Spun up in your mind like a crystal chandelier.
Precarious precious beauty.
Your hands on my innocence.
Pulling me down, knocking me over.
Teaching me how to fly.

20/04/202117/04/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: beauty, sex, trappedTags: addict, beauty, bird, crystal, drugs, fly, glass, heart, heroin, kiss, love, poem, Poetry, precious, sex, treasure 4 Comments

Echoes in arbitrary flow

Through this darkness, you felt your way.
Fingers in decay, while you groped for something.
I told you, you knew it then.
I would always be waiting.
As the moon rolled away like the end of a film.
And the sadness reeled you in.
You held your breath and counted the silence.
Little drops like chips in teeth.
Tiny shifts, the tectonic plates of deciding.
I hovered above.
My eyes light like a dove in its pirouetting flight.
I stripped your mind like a Christmas tree in January.
Shed. Cold. Naked.
And ready.
Placing candles in skulls to light your way.
The bodies of your old self, at use after all.
We swim out of the concrete and into the sky.
Minds now alive and deliberating.
Of which wing to fly upon.
Which sky to pull down and cover us.
To disappear into forever.

02/03/202102/03/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, timeTags: alive, art, bodies, cold, death, film, flight, fly, forever, light, love, moon, naked, poem, Poetry, skull, skulls, sky, teeth, time Leave a comment

Beneath

Beneath the truth, that sets you free.
Lies a fragile world of intimacy.
That falls and climbs like a startled bird.
It’s talked about, but never heard.
For at its heart, is a hidden gold.
Where secrets die, and the truth is told.
And where that bird of love can fly.
A connection of trust that lives and thrives.

03/02/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: birds, love, Poetry, truthTags: art, bird, birds, flight, fly, gold, intimacy, love, poem, poetry, rhyme, truth 14 Comments