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

Sweetness follows

Jasmine lips and honey eyes.
Dance on my flesh like miniature dragonflies.
Growing roses in my heart.
The ivy of my mind to twist into.
Licking your skin and tasting the ocean.
Chasing your wave and finding sand in my shoe.
You.
Blue and free like the sky that pulls over my eyelids.
Whispering into my skull, the tantric movement of tomorrow.
Taking me off to another land.
Where your skeleton slips into my skin each day.
And crystal tears carve a path right through me.
Amber shivers and slumbered eyes, welcoming these dreams.
Tip-toeing through the water lilies of your world.
Hovering like the hummingbird of your heart.
Beat and hum.

16/09/202215/09/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: flowers, kiss, seaTags: birds, crystal, flowers, honey, hummingbird, love, lust, ocean, poem, Poetry, sea, sex, skull, sky, tomorrow, waves 4 Comments

Bestowed

Your voice, it calls me higher.
Cracking this concrete world which tethers us.
The challenge in arriving, with a heart still heaving.
Shaken to the core, for the love you try to give.
You turned away and I was lost again.
A return settles in my soul.
With eyes that learned to love once more.
And hands that try to heal.
Don’t speak to me yet, for I may shatter.
Listening to such sweet benediction.
From lips I wish to meet.
To taste again love’s magic.
These expecting steps, lead me further.
As I clumsily tumble into now.
You say you want me.
But the moon begins to weep.
As you begin to wash away my sadness.
Kissing the scars, some made by you, in low starlight.
Skin to skin.
Drenched now in honey, sticky within.
Sweet sparkles.
With strung up stars waiting to explode.
Disintegrating now into brilliant lights of diamonds.

22/06/202209/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: kissing, love, starsTags: art, benediction, heal, healing, honey, kiss, kissing, love, loving, magic, moon, poem, Poetry, sadness, shatter, soul, starlight, stars, time 2 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

A Tragic discourse in a glorious demise

Tip the ghost honey, it likes to attract the bees.
Distracts from the different coloured tears.
That run on invisible cheeks.
Where were you when I needed you the most?
Negating our history and the whole of the 21^st century.
An incredible void, you chose not to cross.
The chasm left when you moved our luggage.
Years of mangled words and old Christmas ornaments.
Rolling around and cracking, fragile to touch.
Treasured with limitations.
With these thoughts, who needs enemies?
The echoes act like heroin.
Dipped in paraffin.
Taking me up.
Leading me to explode.
Covering you now in glitter and sad reflections.

28/05/202228/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: flames, flight, hurtTags: 21st century, art, bees, burn, christmas, drugs, flames, flying, ghost, glitter, heroin, honey, hurt, love, poem, Poetry, sad 4 Comments