Subconsciously motivated to euphoria

Tell me more about this place where the flowers grow.
Darkness, you say, is but a dream spun in fractured states.
That has little place there.
These flowers, they sparkle like crystals under sunlit ponds.
Inviting us to dive for mislabeled treasure.
There was but a crack on my mind.
Nothing really, but would it matter?
If that fracture, grew worse and worse.
Not there you say, that place it heals.
Swaddling all in divine clouds of relief.
Keeping the broken pieces of the shell in place.
And the mind where it belongs.
What use of the heart then?
The heart it seems is praised.
Raised up high like a crown.
The land vibrates under soft understanding.
While love sews tapestries of tales, and memories together.
They are there too, you know they are waiting.
How could an angel not sit at the throne.
Heaven?
No, not yet. The safer place inside your soul.
Where you barely tred.
I don’t want to stain it all with coatings of yesterday.
These things will be washed away, only lessons remain.
Who can go?
All are welcome.
When can I leave?
You’ve already left.

31/12/202228/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, flowers, happyTags: angels, art, flowers, happy, heaven, joy, light, love, mind, poem, Poetry, safe, soulmate, sunshine, travel, wellness 6 Comments

Happiness obligation

A truthfulness we promised ourselves to be.
Thine soul entwined.
Cracked butterfly wings of gold.
Yet the oil got their first.
But we can shake the Texas tea from our mouths.
And sore higher into the moon shaped sky.
This crowning.
A deep reverence for the promise we made.
That were whispered into our ears when we came.
Sweet words like honey into milk.
We can avoid the fault lines that threaten like an injured bird.
Dragging our horizons down.
Pull up your crown, and remember the happiness we sung.
Wrote poems and lyrics to in our heart of hearts.
Take the hand that hurts, and heal with a severed ego.
A beauty that we owe to ourselves.
An apology just for you.
A remembering of the happiness we deserve.

18/12/202217/12/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: butterfly, gold, happyTags: art, butterfly, earth, gold, happiness, happy, love, moon, night, poem, Poetry, treasure, wealth 4 Comments

Stars come out (to light our way)

Don’t take this from us.
As the heart hovers and throbs.
An unending passion that is born in the slightest smile.
And the most agonising cry.
Your words caved in as the world collapsed.
Ushering happiness and banishing the ghosts.
What worlds do we hope to die?
Which ruins threaten to drag us down?
You meet me on the dock, that inches out into space.
Into time, dappled in joy and the yet to become.
Like a swirling candied apple planet in our hands.
And we dip our feet into stars.
Watching it all from above.
This sudden shudder and retract.
Of a past that wishes to bury itself.
In a book so eager to close.
The whisper in my ear as, the night fades, is you.
Promising me tomorrow.
As dawn washes into my eyes.

22/10/202218/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: night, space, starsTags: books, ghosts, hands, happy, hope, journey, joy, light, poem, Poetry, ruins, smile, space, stars, swa, way, wishes, worlds 4 Comments

Kill them with kindness

The wind blew her northward.
Desert dry and frigidly barren.
A mind thirsty for something tasted before.
Spent, but ready to burst again.
Like a leaf on the breeze, planted where she fell.
Pouring paint into the world.
Cracking open other skulls to sneak inside.
Planting diamonds.
She came like Christmas.
A Beautiful pageant of lights and colour.
Soaking up the grey.
Uprooting the cemetery stones that stuck up like teeth.
She polished them like new enamel.
Dressed in the same clothes she was to be buried in.
She was like you or I.
The same skeleton underneath.
Yet she was different.
Feeding the animals in her mind that roared at life.
Acting like it was all a circus.
Until she floated away again.
Up and out of sight, out of hand.
When her work here was done.

19/10/202218/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: circus, crazy, kindnessTags: animals, cemetary, circus, crazy, creative, diamonds, fish, fun, grave, happy, imagination, kindness, life, nature, poem, Poetry, surreal, unique, woman 4 Comments

A Universe to devour

Dreams ignite like a Chagall construction.
You and I, flying over rooftops.
Exploding in colour.
I lay you down and crawl into your skin.
Kissing you intimately, feeling my way.
Your body entices and your heart entraps.
Yet it is your soul I’m after.
The bruised, damaged, fraying thing.
Shaking and asking to have life breathed in.
Frantically unable to be cupped in my hands.
It runs from me like a feather on the breeze.
Escaping like a Bharatanatyam movement.
Colours and light, burning my sad lonely grey into nothing.
Love on your fingertips, sticky from the centre of me.
Though this may be transitory, I give in and go under.
Falling for you again as the waves crash over.
Disappearing in such wonder and the perfumed smoke of you.
Coughing up clouds of devotion, and descending like the setting sun.

02/07/202210/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, sunTags: art, chagall, colour, dance, feathers, happy, kissing, light, lonely, love, poem, Poetry, sad, skin, soul, sun, sunset, universe Leave a comment

Hold it all in

Cocooned in a love that had died.
Brought to life once more in this time.
In a moment, connected not by space or matter.
But by the golden dance of hope and perseverance.
I’m on the verge of ecstasy again.
So I swallow it down, keep it all in.
The smile I suffocate with my lips.
Breathing in the heady acceleration of this future.
Trapping it in amber.
No words come from you, yet I hear your voice.
Within, spinning spiderwebs of trust and delicate touches.
Heaving my ribs to make way for the love.
Expanding.
Melting this iceberg.
Though this moment won’t last.
As I feel the morning rays creep over the windowpane.
Threatening today.
And tomorrow you my choose to go away.
Now is all that matters.
It feels, as I collapse into forever.
Washed in your eyes, the drenching of starry hazel plumes.
Making me divine.
So I keep you in time, trapped like beauty.
Forever.
Mine.

06/06/202206/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: future, happy, loveTags: care, dream]sun, forever, future, happy, hope, kiss, lips, love, poem, Poetry, time Leave a comment

Are you there?

Pretty memories slip inside these veins.
Washing you through my blood stream.
You lay over me, thick and heavy.
While I sleep and when I wake.
I hoped to crumble you out of my heart.
Yet you clung on like cancer.
Haunting me.
You evaporate the time when you shook me away.
Dipping our past in acid to burn off the unflattering.
Now you come to me with selective amnesia.
Telling me you love me still.
I smell the alkaloid tinge to those words.
A bruised motive lies underneath.
You were there all along, but failed to hold me.
To reach out when I fell.
When the dogs ripped apart my soul.
Are you there always, watching me?
What did you feel when I cried in the dark.
When the little razor drifted across each wrist like storm clouds.
Would you have moved to mop up the red rain?
Or are you only there for the summer time?
When the shadows are your own making.

19/05/202219/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: clouds, ghost, summerTags: art, clouds, drugs, ghost, happy, haunt, heart, poem, Poetry, sky, storm, summer, sun, sunny, sunshine, veins 2 Comments

Sarcastic Simon simply says

Which parade set table are we dressed for?
Candy stars and sweet honey lemonade?
Goldfish trapped in tiny jars.
Blind me now, let’s play charades.
Cheating on the life we try to lead.
Hide and seek with death.
But such a sad face he always wears.
Covering us in black and liquorice lace.
Come skim the jellybean stones with me.
Jump the sugared rocks over the pool of irresponsibility.
We can talk to god at the end.
We can ask him how it went.
Whether our game was fun of failing.
Come on, it’s just begun.

26/01/202226/11/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, fun, godTags: art, candy, death, fun, funny, games, god, happy, play, poem, Poetry, surreal, sweets, youth Leave a comment

Intertwine

The after-burn of lust sees your soul coil around me.
Tunnelling my desperate thoughts up into the sky.
It is a beautiful flowered prison that I daren’t shake free.
A circled decision giving me reasons not to cry.

27/12/202123/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: heaven, love, soulTags: art, circle, coil, flowers, free, freedom, happy, heaven, love, lust, poem, Poetry, prison, sky, soul 2 Comments

Interstellar insights

The world opens, the moon shines down like a second sun.
Highlighting the scars of the earth.
I sense you and smell the enthusiasm.
Every day is mine to win, each interaction a snapshot in time.
It’s not how we fall, but how we stand that matters.
The heart of the matter.
The rub, the centre; the deep filled gooey splatter of time.
Stretching away like a blurring desert.
I step stone towards the unknown, letting go of uncertainty.
Restriction dropping, heart opening foolishness of youth and wisdom.
I pull you out of the cave, bring you into the light.
Dazzled by your brilliance, and mesmerised by sight.
Too long have we lingered on the dark side of the moon.
Freezing in the ill commitment to abstain.
Come, take my hand and let us drink in the solar flares.
Turn the moon to gold.
Get high on the mercury rising and dance into the fire.
Singing our solar song.

25/12/202123/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, planets, spaceTags: change, dark, earth, gold, happy, hope, insightful, moon, poem, Poetry, souls, space, stars, travel, wisdom, youth 8 Comments

Sparkle

In the trees, no; in the sky.
The veins are hiding it.
The light shining like the eyes of God.
It’s there all the time, do you never see it?
No, but I feel it.
Washing in my bloodstream, collecting like wax.
Divine.
Sublime.
Yet I see it now, the great orb above.
We came from it, that far off place.
Its essence coats our skin like angel dust.
A pleasant peppering, are you sure it’s those shores we stole from?
Can you not tell, does the rock in your pocket not breathe like that mountain?
Torn from the mass, yet special in it’s size.
It’s like a pebble in my mind.
Like an egg, beautiful and full of life.
It shines too, like gold.
That is the light, that is what we are.
Then why is it sometimes dark?
Dark you say?
Yes, black sometimes like oil.
That would be your own fears, covering what needs to be free.
Then let it be.
Yes, let it will be.

22/12/202122/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: divine, god, lightTags: art, beauty, bright, dark, divine, eyes, god, happy, light, moon, oil, poem, Poetry, sad, space, sparkle 5 Comments

Everything I know, fades away

A formulaic response to want.
Filling in the void that smothers with blackness.
Empty like the thoughts of change.
In minds that remain the same.
Yet a latent strain of kindness struggled.
Crept out of the soil that covered us.
Sparked by the light in your eyes.
As it crept down in time.
An now the world is fragrant once again.
Washed with colour and vividness.
Alive with flowers that bloom.
For I know, I will be with you soon.

05/11/202105/11/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: flower, happy, timeTags: art, bloom, bright, change, flowers, happy, live, love, Poetry, spark, time 5 Comments

Skeletons in my closet

Into your ear I promise heaven.
Though I’m sure we’ll go through hell.
Consider this a quick confession.
Before falling under this spell.
My love is mined in deep deposits.
In caves of the dark and unkind.
But there’s skeletons buried inside my closet.
And devils lurking in my mind.

06/10/202116/08/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: heaven, hell, skeletonTags: cave, crown, dark, diamonds, happy, haunt, heaven, hell, poem, Poetry, rhyme, sad, skeleton 21 Comments

Return

A life led well in good graces.
Smiling often, traveling places.
Banishing the darkness, only seeing the light.
Yet on the way she struggled.
Her heart and mind, forever muddled.
For in all that time she’d never found someone who was right.
People were kind, and she made them smile.
And she would stay for a little while.
Before the itch began to scratch underneath her skin.
Forever searching, but never finding.
That one to love, always hiding.
She wandered lonely still until a sudden call within.
Took her away from the crazy city.
The maddening pulse, of pride and pity.
And beckoned her back to the wild from where she’d came.
Through the trees and forests before her.
She made her way, the hidden eyes a stir.
Until she saw the tuffs and silk of a lycanthropic mane.
She felt at home in this new scene.
He wondered where on earth she’d been.
Reminding her that this had once been her home.
And in her smile there came a knowing.
A familiar feeling, a happiness showing.
That now back with nature, she would never be alone.

26/01/202126/01/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: nature, wolf, wolvesTags: art, forest, happy, home, light, love, nature, poem, Poetry, soulmate, tourist, travel, wander, wolf, wolves, woods 14 Comments

Solitude sometimes completes

Quiet is the night that falls into me.
Spreading the inky blackness all over my soul.
God smears it on my eyes.
The devil breathes it into my lungs.
Dark replaces lonely.
And as the moon crescents and pierces the void.
I stumble quickly into a knowing.
Dropping fear like shrouds of revelations.
Collapsing into a nothingness bliss.
Swimming in solitude.

11/12/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: lonely, moon, night, PoetryTags: art, black, bliss, dark, darkness, devil, escape, forest, god, happy, isolation, lonely, moon, night, Poetry, pome, snow, solitude, swimming, woods 11 Comments

Dislocate

This life, that fear of loving.
Of believing what is all around here.
A junction in your bones, fragile and misdirected.
Second hand bodies that fall like sad embarrassed eyes.
Only when the lights are out.
These fears call out your name.
Swim into your dreams and pollutes this bloodstream.
Who touched that velvet treasure?
You take rib, and scream a pleasure.
I feel the truth like each vertebrae.
You dislocate.
You propagate a new feeling within me.
A love so tender and tasty, it reeks of construction.
Of chaos and completion.
Slid off the bone of life.
All the noise seems to fade away.
To a coffin quiet existence that allows me to hear the future.
While you cover this love in salt for protection.
And I hold your bones in mine.
Counting the path of your spine.
Silently whispering to the angels a thanks.
For returning what once was ours.

26/11/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, bones, love, PoetryTags: angels, art, biology, blackandwhite, blood, body, bones, happy, heaven, love, poem, Poetry, spine, strength, thanks, treasure, vertebrae 5 Comments