Salvus erit

A coldness there.
Darkness, placing a hand on my skin.
These eyes close, transportation to a familiar place.
Touching me, the lonely.
Wanting to make an everlasting connection.
It swamps my lungs, and cradles me in arms of hollow bones.
Comfort in this awful place.
A room where I chose what fits, what goes where.
The ghosts mingle and float with intent.
Then a call, a gentle pull.
Like a vein slipping across a bone in motion.
The sounds of the desert, a shofar calling.
It’s triumphant song barrelling over my eyes.
Calling me like a flame.
God needn’t reside in the hand that pulled me out.
Nor in the eyes of the person offering hope.
For they are  the same, they are myself.
Smiling and pulling on the little red thread.
Lighting the way forward with tiny sparks.
Saving me from the depths once more.

03/10/202203/10/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: hope, light, lonelyTags: art, darkness, desert, flames, ghosts, god, hope, hurt, light, lonely, lonilness, music, pain, poem, Poetry, pull, spark, vein 1 Comment

Gonna get burned

You’re the one who comes between us.
Coughing out your IQ.
Slipping your hand behind the couch of the night.
Always slipping away.
Leaving me choking on spent haemoglobin.
My mind is wild and my eyes are wide.
But they scarcely see you.
The black bruise of loneliness settles all around.
Weightless and bare.
In the dark, it all looks the same.
Then you set this all on fire.
Warming your hands by the great destruction.
Casting on gasoline comments of indifference.
These words from you are vulgar.
Yet I thank you for your time.
Breathing them in and setting up homes for them inside of me.
Precious fragile fragments of attention.
Your racing heart surprises, it brings me back.
Brings me down.
Simmering into something else.
I come back to you again in little pieces.
Littering your soul.

10/08/202213/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: fire, flames, heartacheTags: art, blood, bruise, burn, dark, death, drugs, fire, flames, heart, hurt, IQ, lonely, lonliness, love, night, Old, poem, Poetry, sky, spark 11 Comments

Lonely tree

In the forest, all alone.
My lonely tree feels cold as stone.
Surrounded everywhere by its branches.
That bend and twist to their own advantage.
They shake in the wind, and shiver in sadness.
Sunken in a disturbing madness.
Until one day you came into the woods.
Scared the animals and riding hood.
Yet the wolves they ran, and hid like rabbits.
Convoluted out of their own bad habits.
And into my glade you stepped so proudly.
And struck a match and yelled out loudly:
“Love is a flame that burns us under!”
And as quick as lightening, you lit me like thunder.
So my lonely tree, burned quick and sadly.
And I faded away, into death quite gladly.

27/07/202212/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, fire, treeTags: animals, art, depression, fairytales, fire, flame, forest, hurting, lightening, lonely, poem, Poetry, riding hood, sad, thunder, tree, wolves, woods 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

Something thought eternal dies

It pulls you to the ground.
Rips inside you.
Plunging into your soul like skeleton hands.
That fear of a solitary future.
The stain of a nothing left behind.
In the absence of another.
You throw up your love onto new terrain.
Heavy now, with a new solo gravity.
The weight of the world.
The weight of a tear.
Crashing inside you.
An inky wave of resolve and refusal.
For your heart was sewn and stitched to another.
And now the wound is left to bleed into nothing.

17/06/202217/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: gravity, loneliness, lonely, painTags: art, future, gravity, heart, hurt, lonely, love, pain, passed, poem, Poetry, skeleton, soul, wave 1 Comment

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

Tragedy ending on this

As the city hums, and chokes the flowers.
This mind refracts.
Stuttering like the trains which snake beneath my feet.
Beneath my bones which rot like timbers of time.
Belonging to a place that clouds and coughs.
Surrounding like a multitude of sin.
This is what I wanted after all.
But the magpies pull the treasures away.
Spiriting the sparkle skyward like seasons.
I feel old and rooted.
Yet freshly hewn and tender.
A ghost of a ship stranded in an international airport.
Someone’s lost luggage.
Unclaimed but missed.
What if the cracks and voids are filled.
By only nonsense and the spit of this current time.
Fuzzy images and words that make no sense line my eyes.
And roar while I try to sleep.
This sleep, this dream.
Shaking in and out of a nightmare.
Which I chose to play.

13/05/202213/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: city, nightmares, timeTags: airport, art, birds, city, dreams, fate, flowers, ghost, lonely, nightmares, poem, Poetry, sad, ship, time, treasure 3 Comments

Heroin(e)

Fire crack cackle in hushed shadows.
Little fingers about to cut you off.
What you say makes me shudder.
A creeping shiver left at the side of the bed.
A mind now full of kitty litter.
With this life-long looking and an ache to scratch.
Weakness, tossed out like surprise.
Sweetness that came in like a hammer to a glass heart.
Lick me up like spite, with a malice reduced down into silver spoons.
As I fall away from you.
And watch you choke on words not the loneliness.
It moves now in to post-blue passive aggressive tendency.
Feeling the testosterone in our bones.
Angry, because you wanted it this way.
Embattled and emblazed with the world shouting us as well.
Waiting for the silence to once again smother our fires.

12/01/202226/11/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: lonely, painTags: art, bed, drugs, heroin, hurt, lonely, lonilness, pain, poem, Poetry, scary, sleep 6 Comments

Soar & subside

Falling down the waterfall, shaken out of grace.
Sliding, spiraling and collapsing. Leaving nothing but a trace.
Tumbling down speedily, in disgust from your eyes.
Crawling out of this bitter, purgening demise.
Escaping into nothingness, fleeing into dreams.
Tasting the fruit of freedom. Splitting from the seams.
Moving now a certain way, to expand these wings.
Unfurling fraying feathers, precious aerodynamic things.
Falling once again, from ledges beyond time.
Saying goodbye to shadows, and the ghosts that haunt this mind.
Realisation of collapse, braking bark from the knowledge tree.
Not a sad solitary boat of sand, on your egotistical sea.
I fully bow out, take my leave now and resign.
Plunging into tomorrow knowing, I must fall to begin the climb.

08/01/202207/01/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: escape, fight, freedomTags: art, birds, boat, chane, dreams, escape, feathers, flying, freedom, hurt, lonely, poem, Poetry, rhyming, sad, soar, time 6 Comments

Fright night

All year round he kept to himself.
Quiet and content, like a book on a shelf.
It was Halloween though when the tables turned.
And in his head, those thoughts had churned.
To live it up, go mad and wild.
To put on costumes, like any other child.
He loved that night when he fitted in.
And wasn’t shamed or drenched in sin.
He could go out and talk to others.
His friends, his mum and all his brothers.
Accepted him and played for ages.
Some souls to flick through his dusty pages.
It was Halloween he loved and longed for.
The skulls and sweets; and dismembered gore.
He felt alive and loved the freedom.
That came with the scares of the creepy season.
For that was the time he loved the most.
For poor old Charlie was such a lonely ghost.

30/10/202125/10/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: ghost, halloween, lonelyTags: art, death, dressup, ghost, halloween, haunt, lonely, poem, rhyme, sad 2 Comments

Island

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ISLAND

This fear of limitless emotion.
Washes at the shore of my soul.
I fought a war for our love.
Raging like a storm on the face of time.
And now I fall like an island in the sea.
Alone and bare.
Washed by a tide, a poison of loneliness.
Never more to welcome the sun above.
I can only skim sad pebbled tears out to you.
There on the horizon.
That sight of hope, which will never land on my coast.
I glow, and diminish through this all.
Soon nothing but a shell.
That cannot even echo the sea.

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16/10/202107/10/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: hurt, island, lonelinessTags: art, fight, hurt, island, lonely, loss, ocean, poem, Poetry, sad, sea, storm, war, water 5 Comments

Pieces of time

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PIECES OF TIME

Have you seen?
Have you seen this life we lead?
Fragments of space locked in time.
I stand on this beach, with each grain beneath my feet.
Ground down from rocks and God grinding his teeth.
This sea has washed a thousand shores.
These tears have dried a million times before.
Did I miss something? The big reveal?
My hands are empty as I forget how this feels.
Closing my eyes I feel it wash over me.
These pieces of time we cling to like driftwood.
Was I wrong to run? Or weak to stay?
(I don’t know so please don’t answer)
I cling faster now, each splinter a memory driving its way to my heart.
You can find me here, holding your hand.
Encircling this moment that I wish to stretch out for eternity.
Don’t pity me.
Let us disappear and fall once again into your own jealousy.
Leapfrogging to another piece of your own space and time.
Alone again.
We watch as the beach rises and the moon turns over.
Capturing us forever in this bottle on the sand.

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07/08/202115/07/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: loss, space, timeTags: alone, beach, lonely, loss, memories, moon, poem, Poetry, sand, sea, space, time 15 Comments

I Miss my ocean (Redux)

I MISS MY OCEAN

Sand. Dirty sand and soil.
Dust in my mouth and coating this skin.
A film of sweat covers me.
Sticky heat and restless.
I miss my sea, the ocean that bore me.
Tranquil and deep like the pools in my mind.
To drift and meander across its aqua stretches.
Calms the blood that torrents through me.
I miss my sea, my ocean.
At times stormy, but full of life.
Threatening to pull me down to the ocean floor.
Where I can be alone, and able to heal.
The arid heat and air of this desert itches my eyes.
Scratches at the very thought of going on another day.
The salty air calls me back.
A maelstrom of reasons directing my compass.
To ride over waves and rise with Atlantis.
Reaching a trident back up to god.
So I shall make my way, and crawl back into the sea.
One which always welcomes and cherishes me.
Washing everything clean, and cooling my soul.
I miss my ocean.
I miss my sea.

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01/07/202130/06/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: alone, ocean, seaTags: alone, atlantis, goodbye, lonely, ocean, poem, Poetry, sea, waves 10 Comments

Fly me to the moon

Into the shuttle, with a clink and a clank.
Climbed old Richard, the adventurous Yank.
He counted down, from ten to zero.
Puffed out his chest, as America’s new hero.
And he soared into the sky, with his hands in his pockets.
As he shot to the moon on the back of a rocket.
And the earth dripped away under the clouds at his feet.
He smiled at his fortune that was ever so sweet.
Yet alone on this flight, bound for the lunar oasis.
As his body hung on earth in a suspended medical stasis.
In a nursing home called Cherry palm, Richard resided.
At 92, was the best place his children decided;
For him to live out his days in comfort and care.
Little knowing each day was full of lonely despair.
And that is why, though medicated it’s noted.
He navigated the world, and now space where he floated.
And he went where he wanted, on his own in his head.
He travelled to the moon without leaving his bed.
This was how Richard coped with the despair.
Walking in space, above the world without care.

23/05/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: departure, escape, moonTags: age, american, cherry, drugs, earth, flight, loneliness, lonely, medication, moon, nursing, oasis, old age, poem, Poetry, rhyme, rocket, ship, shuttle, time, world 8 Comments

Seahorse

The Saturn rings look like halos above you.
Don’t move, you look divine.
Around your feet the seahorses play, kicking up moon dust memories.
You find me, deep down in the Mariana trench, decaying like an old wreck.
Do not ask me to play hide and seek now, I do not know the universe as well as you.
1, 2, 3, 4…..Comets shoot across my sky, turning the blackness to fire.
I’m blinded and momentarily lost.
You paralyse me with your tongue, licking sweet sensations.
Then flicking me with words that sink in, deep into the bloodstream.
My nakedness parades in full as I stroll across the moon.
Swim to the ocean floor, swim forever more in the sea that seems beyond tranquil.
8, 9, 10….ready or not.
You found me, just north of Neptune wearing my own crown.
You say it suits you better, everything always does.
I diminish in ill-fitting clothes of the emperor. Falling into threadbare solitude.
Will the trident ever be tested? How much blood needs to flow into these craters to satisfy?
Throw me back to the tide and cast your net further afar.
Let the oceans pull you away, so I never let you plunge my Atlantis into dismay.
My pyramids will be forever mine alone, a place I can go to weep and smile.
Watching the earth follow the moon.

19/02/202019/01/2020 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, Poetry, seas, spaceTags: angels, atlantis, emperor, game, hurt, lonely, love, moon, oceans, poem, Poetry, pyramids, sad, seahorse, seas, space, stars 16 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