Days of correction

We wait for you, as the heavens fall.
As the skin begins to be pulled from our bones.
The sea foam swallows.
Thunder follows.
And all around the sparks flicker.
We wait for you to catch up.
The lead in your blood to bleed out.
A correction, an alteration.
A mind frame recalibration.
I wait for you, till the end of time.
Modifying what was placed inside your DNA.
The world is ending, and time hangs like a necklace.
Heavy and beautiful around your neck.
You need to move faster.
Evolve and leave the husk of darkness resigned,
to a space only the ghosts will welcome.
We are in the age of correction.
A simple state of detection.
Of knowing what to take, and what to leave behind.

24/08/202215/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, change, timeTags: angel, beauty, bones, change, correction, dna, hope, light, motivation, necklace, poem, Poetry, sparks, time Leave a comment

Photosynthesis in retrograde

8pm. Half awake.
Sonic ringing in my skull like sonar.
Crash through your words that splinter.
Deadening my star.
Sweeping up my sparks.
Picking the petals of me into nothing.
I curl back into tomorrow.
Soaking in the dew of innocence.

30/07/202212/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, hurt, loveTags: art, flower, light, petals, plants, poem, Poetry, rain, sleep, sonar, sparks, star, sunshine, time 2 Comments

Conspicuous by its absence

Welcome to the survival.
The nest in the mind, padded with gold and turpentine.
Cleansing the stain of a life lived in regret.
Galvanising all that remains.
Precious in its circumstance.
Your uniqueness burns like a church candle.
Sacred.
Cherished.
Sanctified and blessed by its very existence.
Placed there by someone who cared to care.
What is lost, can be forgotten.
The darkness leaves little space.
We fill this void with flowers.
Where the teeth once were rotten.
An ivory tower of hope now climbs.
All inside.
Built back upon tears and upheaval.
Pulled out from the most terrible of histories.
Yet still breathing, a product of now.
Electrified by the thought of change.
Scatter your sparks into the spaces that ache in emptiness.
And save yourself, for only you ever can.

25/11/202125/11/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: church, gold, hopeTags: art, change, church, darkness, flowers, gold, hope, hopeful, light, poem, Poetry, precious, sacred, sparks 3 Comments