Marker: Black bones vanished

To leave this weary land, is like turning off a light.
My tiny heart is shattered into a million little pieces.
Please understand.
I can no longer fight.
My black bones crumble and my eyes bleed.
And this heart struggles, squeezed by a ghost of a dream I once made.
You lost your way, but are happy with what you found.
Caught between goodbye and complications.
I long for more than this, and the sky above is opening.
I must leave, so please understand my departure.
For to remain allows the belief that I understand.
And linger like a taste in your mouth.
So I will disappear, like words of love and forever.
Muttered into my ear as you cum.
But my exit wounds will never heal.
And your soul, that I tried to steal, will freeze in your bones.
That walk and creak to a lonely death.
Silently stuttering my name.

27/10/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: anger, bones, departure, PoetryTags: anger, art, bones, departure, freeze, hurt, leavving, poem, Poetry, sex, sky, walk, words 1 Comment

Clemency

Is it really redemption if it comes so easy?
What cost is paid in tears that no one sees?
You handle me like sad broken happiness.
Planting the dead bits of me like seeds.
A flawed parlour trick turning on sympathy.
Coated in words that stick like regret.
You try to scrub this soul clean, sucking out the darkness.
Breaking yourself, to let in the light.

28/07/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: dark, darkness, light, Poetry, redemptionTags: art, broken, cost, dark, dead, happiness, light, plant, poem, Poetry, redemption, sad, seeds, soul, tears, words 13 Comments

Diverted by distance light

Dreaming hopeful and sifting sand.
A hollowed doubt in a burning hand.
As eyes peel back and strip the moon.
This silent feeling is gone too soon.
We count the days as they fall like birds.
With tarred up feathers and swallowed words.
Two throbbing hearts break forth and run.
Leaving shadows and souls in that dying sun.

12/07/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, Poetry, sunTags: birds, burning, days, escape, eyes, feathers, fire, flame, flee, hands, heart, heat, light, love, moon, poem, Poetry, roomance, summer, sun, time, words 7 Comments

Quarantine

This isolation breeds such thoughts.
Dark and resentful.
Wreaking such havoc.
Splinters from conversations sucked from your mouth.
Now under my skin.
Into these veins.
The darkness carries itself, and I hear you in my heart.
Picking me apart.
From the inside out.

14/02/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: dark, heart, Poetry, sickTags: art, black, cold, darkness, heart, hurt, ice, mouth, poem, poetry, sick, thoughts, veins, winter, words 8 Comments

Tender

Like the night. A soft velvet expanse.
Reaching through time.
Through misty eyes which open wide.
They devour me.
In a kiss that kills me, over and over.
Yet tenderly I swim down.
Passing jagged words you keep inside.
Released, only to the moon.
As you howl them into nothingness.
For tender is your way.
Sweet bruises of affection which stay,
within us forever.
As we nestle into the tender wings of love.
Slipping into time.

15/12/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: animals, kiss, love, PoetryTags: affection, animals, art, bruise, kiss, love, moon, night, poem, poetry, space, swan, tender, words 10 Comments

A Funeral of thoughts

An earthy taste in your mouth.
The soil that slips from your lunar lips.
Is a burying of the old.
Broken thoughts grown frail and forgotten.
They’d rambled in your mind like an aged pensioner.
One that no-one bothered to check on.
Whose milk bottles of intent built up on their doorstep.
These thoughts tried to slip away in the night.
Silently and painless in the light of a new day.
In the light you bring.
Those thoughts that are the shadows of self.
From the dark side of the moon of the mind.
Fearful of the sun, that shines from your eyes.
Dirt, on my pillow when I wake.
Burying the thoughts in dreams masked as nightmares.
Finally, dead and buried.

31/10/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, horror, Poetry, wordsTags: dead, death, dreams, funeral, horror, light, lunar, moon, nightmares, poem, poetry, scary, space, words 11 Comments

Journal – In love with your words

Don’t mince words, don’t be evasive. Speak your mind, be persuasive.

A love affair with language, as any writer will come across; is a delectable art of playing with wordy ingredients to create something filling and tasty.…..
Read the rest over at the journal

18/05/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: journal, love, PoetryTags: art, author, horrible, journal, musings, nice, pop, thoughts, words, writing 3 Comments

Heliocentric detours

A story unfolding at the speed of life.
Unplugged or imbedded.
I think I missed the Milky Way.
Drinking once more from a cup of stars.
Do these words seem familiar?
As they slide once more into focus.
Chewing on your past like a shark in a bathtub.
Filled to the brim with sorrow.
Eyes, that are empty.
Call for tomorrow.
As your moon hangs heavy in your heart.
Blue, like the subterfuge that shrieks past like a shooting star.
Call it what you want, taste it like confusion.
But be sure to rinse you mouth with the irresistible.
And swallow the sublime.

11/04/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, Poetry, shark, spaceTags: art, heart, milkyway, moon, poem, poetry, shark, space, sun, tomorrow, words 8 Comments

Mooncats (and this’n’that)

I’ve been collaborating for a while now with fellow artists and friend NARA15BLOG (her name while remain a mystery to all but know her dearly.)

We have created ‘Mooncats’, which is a collection of poems that we have both contributed to and enjoyed creating. I would like to draw your attention to this collection here, and also to her own blog which includes an assault on the senses through, art, writing and wonder:

NARA15BLOG

Please check out our collaborations and her site, bookmark it and forever be captivated by it’s deliciousness. Enjoy, and watch out for more Mooncats fleeing the lunar surface in the future.

23/11/201723/11/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: art, cats, Poetry, writingTags: art, cats, collaboration, friends, poem, poetry, solar, sun, words, writing 2 Comments

Gospel of no-one

Your own personal bible, offering a glimpse into worlds you will never normally see. Words struck down, not by God, but by those souls who visited St. Sebastian’s church and who dissected their own sacred hearts for you.

Hidden under the base of a statue of Mother Mary, the current pastor of St. Sebastian’s church discovers a small tightly bound book, the contents of which explain the demise of the previous Father, Father Nikolas and the confessions of those who frequented the church throughout his time there. A journey through pain, doubt and forgiveness; the book opens the eyes and hearts and asks everyone for their own confessions.

‘The Gospel of no one’ is a hybrid novel mixing fiction and poetry, orbiting religious imagery and spirituality. Hope, mixed with the horror of being only human.

–

Just a reminder that The Gospel of no-one is out now in eBook and Paperback. If you’ve purchased it already, thank you; but don’t forget to review and tell a disciple. Comments or questions; please sound off below. Enjoy. For more books, check out the books section. 

19/11/201720/11/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: books, jesus, Poetry, religionTags: art, church, creative writing, fiction, god, jesus, poems, poetry, prose, religion, spirit, words 3 Comments

Click me

Thank you all those who have been following, liking and commenting on my work.
This is just to highlight you can contact with my brain and words via the following also, so you can take havoc and consequence wherever you are. You can also get more info here, or if you wish; please use the contact form below for any burning questions. Once again, thank you for your interest and sharing.

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15/05/201715/05/2017 by Mark Ryan Categories: Poetry, Social identity, wordsTags: amazon, connect, contact, goodreads, instagram, media, social, twitter, words, youtube 1 Comment

I see red

My eyes itch and my heart heaves.
Reading over and over.
Line after line.
Pulling me out of traffic, pulling me into your frame.
Surround yourself with good intentions.
A swirling world of your black and white.
Yet all I see is red.
The swan song that you misunderstand.
Plucking my heartstrings for the correct rhythm.
The right sound.
Colour your lines. Careful now, make it pretty.
This is the page we’re on, this is the hymn we’ll sing.
My story snipped down to a footnote.
A sentence that mice can devour.
In your book of course.
What was I thinking?

09/09/201616/12/2019 by Mark Ryan Categories: argument, books, heart, heartache, PoetryTags: art, blood, colouring, heart, hurt, lines, love, mice, music, pages, poem, Poetry, sounds, traffic, words, writing 6 Comments

Shine

Crushed to diamond dust.
Inhaled in the right light.
When the moon is bright.
Deep into your vines I travel.
Filling your soul with stars.

05/09/201605/09/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: diamonds, light, moon, Poetry, soulTags: blood, diamonds, jewels, light, love, moon, poem, poetry, shine, souls, veins, words, writing 2 Comments

Swallowing teeth

Spun from a dream, where spiders tread.
A view of your world.
Lost and rampant.
Like one of the hypocrites.
Tumbling those words that stick in my throat.
Trading your pointy opinions and brash ultimatums.
Choking on your lullabies and knee jerk goodbyes.
Checking the dirt for such reasons.

04/08/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: anger, bones, Poetry, wordsTags: angre, bones, dreams, goodbye, hurt, poem, poetry, reasons, skull, spiders, teeth, words 3 Comments

Zephyr through my soul

Eyes stutter as bones collapse. Black ink escapes me.
I sky dive in colours, shaking these sins off my back.
Feeling the warmth from within, as the light enters my skull.
Flow.
Dropping down into the ocean, where I swim to the iridescent floor.
Swallowing topaz and truths, shining in the deep.
The world tips over and I take root, strands around me taking me up to the light.
Shooting comets across my eyes.
Trying to remember where it began.
Climbing higher this tree of life, offering my hand to you, to meet me on its branches.
Like the sweet smell of the rain, I sense your nearness.
Wrapped in the roots that bind us and strengthen our resolve.
The incense of the Garden of Eden drowns you, calling us higher.
Smouldering in my soul.
Shaking off the earthen soil of the selfish.
The tangle that bound me before, I cut away with Isaac’s blade.
Sharp and ready, made from glass.
Cutting the vines that grew so ferociously within me.
Rooting my soul here with you once more.
Lifting me to freedom.

19/07/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: hope, kabbalah, love, PoetryTags: comets, earth, eden, god, incense, isaac, kabbalah, light, love, poem, poetry, sea, skull, soul, space, topaz, tree of life, wind, words, zephyr 32 Comments

Down for the count

Hitting below the belt, is now your signature move.
Nurturing such a disregard for me.
Bruising my inner self, my words that always came up empty.
Spat out with blood and hope.
Your maturity sent me reeling, down to the mat.
Waiting for the bell.
You can tolerate me from afar you say.
Like breaking away from a hug, it leaves me devastated.
Yet I remain. Quiet and composed. Taught to hold my head up high.
Dodging intentional verbal daggers and manufactured truths.
Your truths, your reasoning. Your horse blinders on for style.
Over substance. Over my comfort.
Through this pedestal championing, you shoulder massaging.
Cuts deep the vein of my self-respect.
Making my feel ignorant to your perfect sane mind.
I stutter and slip, tripped up on your words.
Unable to reason or fight fire with fire. Caught in your orbit.
All this time wishing on a star that was merely your own satellite.
Just a poet in your world, trying to chase the undefinable.

10/07/201610/07/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, fight, hurt, Poetry, wordsTags: blood, boxing, bruise, championship, fighting, hope, hurt, pain, poem, poet, poetry, relationship, words 7 Comments

Embark on erasing

Erasing the love, no time to argue.
I was always alone in this, now the broken hearts magnetise themselves to me.
Please, flow in another direction.
If the pain doesn’t kill me then your apologies will.
Hold your head high, fill it with promise.
I don’t know what I mean anymore.
Words leave chalky marks on my tongue and holes in your heart.
Too much time to question these directions.
Part of it lies, part of it hope.
I throw them into the sky, hoping the sun will swallow them.
Burn out these thoughts and throw a different shadow upon me.
This day is done, and all is fading.
Set sail on a sea of illusion, taking on water, lifting the anchor of you.

02/07/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: Poetry, sad, sadness, seas, sunTags: hearts, hurt, love, ocean, poem, poetry, sea, shallows, sun, time, words 9 Comments

Combat(ing)

Simple words that cut me down the middle.
Do you know the shock-waves?
They effortlessly drip off your tongue.
I look away.
You go primeval, you lash and rage like a savage.
The maddening reasons of the realistic and selfish.
These scars that I show, the ones that never healed, they bleed again.
Oozing out blood and hurt like long forgotten wars.
Not ready for this skirmish, your monologues of conflict.
Declamations shake me to my soul and make me shiver out a recourse.
This moment smashes into my future, obliterating my plans.
You dance the tribal dance of difference, circling the fire and the thoughts in my mind.
I walk away from the flames and carnal look in your eyes, with tears in my own that decorate my skin.
The sound of drums fade, but never disappear completely.

28/03/201628/03/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: anger, relationship, scars, warTags: blood, combat, fight, future, hurt, poem, poems, poetry, selfish, shockwaves, soul, war, wars, words, writing Leave a comment

The Salvation forest

This is what keeps me alive.
You drying on my skin.
Lobsters of the deep, snap memories for us to share.
For me to fish for.
Your tongue, a mind of its own.
I hope you don’t mind, that I describe you in such words.
But this is what I need. The photosynthesis of love from sadness.
Breathing deep in me, swelling my soul.
Your Picasso honey, sweet blues of strung moments to fix.
A thorn in my side and iron lung around my heart.
Feeling you on my fingertips, presenting such possibilities.
I have to kiss you.
Crawl into the space of your mind where the heart and head battle like warring gods.
Climbing mount Olympus, wax sticking, fear splitting into sweet tangible delight.
Strong roots that burst up toward the sky, like ghosts escaping a tomb.
Strange fruit that I hunger for, my teeth to bite into.
Finding your heart at the centre, I will kiss into recovery.
Restoring your pulse and transfusing our strength into something eternal.
Breathe.

07/02/201607/02/2016 by Mark Ryan Categories: heart, kissing, loveTags: breathing, forest, gods, greek, kissing, light, ocean, poem, poetry, recovery, relationship, sex, sick, taste, tree, war, words 5 Comments