Under darkening skies

That world collapsed, utterly and completely late in his afternoon.
The pulse had stuttered, and the creatures in his mind silenced.
He’d finally reached a point of no return.
A cataclysmic undoing began deep inside his history.
Memories and actions unthreaded, while the skin began to fray.
Tiny tiptoes of bitterness and bittersweetness.
Both at odds and as one with the machine of fate.
He positioned himself by the near chaotic escape.
Leaning on the universe one final time.
Smiling, he watched those he hated pass by with ink spilling from their soul.
Unphased and unfettered by his sudden disappearance.
The loved ones paused, only for a moment, noticing a slight change.
Like a feather landing on an upturned hand.
And then gone, swept away by the breath of god.
His spirit now honey, raised upwards.
He lost his religion, the tethers and the trials.
And with this new found lowness, he rose; abound.
A million shards of light, to blind the worlds unblinking eye.

11/05/202311/05/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, ending, godTags: art, death, end, ending, god, hate, loved, low, poem, Poetry, rapture, skies, skin, words, writing 8 Comments

Black box

Reaching for you as earth says its goodbye.
What is this thing that takes flight.
Soaring through uncharted and terror drenched clouds.
As I look for monsters out the window.
If this plane were to fall from the sky.
Tear into the ground.
This thing wrapped in meaning.
Would it leave a hole in my heart?
Would it turn me to dust?
A fallen bird needing to fly, this thing called love.

03/08/202213/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: birds, flying, hurtTags: bird, clouds, flight, flying, heart, hurt, love, monsters, plane, poem, Poetry, skies, surreal, terror 6 Comments

No sound but escape

The last gasp of a city, stifled through individual disdain.
Strapped to that engine of pain.
The eternal clock that moves everyone forward.
The teacup, that cannot un-shatter.
God’s will, the devil’s plan.
Darkness leaking up out of the drains.
Black balloons to cloud our uneventful skies.
Thoughts like a bruise.
Blooming and fostering more on a delicate mind.
They wait around for the heart to break.
The lies to normalise.
The violence to wrap itself around.
Like fingers of priests, going where they shouldn’t.
You want to leave this place.
Crumble the buildings that warren your life.
Cough out the diseases and the dirt and take a train.
Over tracks on water, the straight edges leading away.
To what, you don’t know.
New spaces to inhabit, to sink a soul into.
Uncertainty, the first sign of freedom.
Lighting fireworks in the mind.
Soon the metropolis an old family member.
Seen only on special occasions.
Lonely in your memory, and very nearly forgotten.

10/09/202110/09/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: city, escape, sadnessTags: chained, city, damaged, dark, devil, escape, god, metropolis, prison, sad, skies, train, travel Leave a comment