Dark ages
Dark spots
Under nails
Something beneath
Thick ice
Something fleeting
Another war

Dark earth
Deep dig
Below steps
Something waits still
Dirt kept
Something legend
Another past

Dark smoke
Sweet hell
Metal teeth
Something escaped
Light lost
Something burning
Another blast

Dark side
Hidden face
Over lines
Nothing troubled
Sleep sound
Nothing written
Another life

Labels: alarming truthness, artform, confession, poetry, Primessa, To a person who never returned to the world, winter passing

Around the world, people are clicking a link to a video titled "The Most POWERFUL Wisdom You Will Ever Hear" and it presents Alice Herz-Sommer, a 109 year old Holocaust survivor. When asked "What is the secret of feeling so good at your age?" she answered "Optimism and looking for the good." and this reminded me of you.

It reminded me of you


Don't give up

Don't focus on the pain
The only thing that is real
Is what makes your heart scream
Perception is a needle
It will tear and it will sting
You can try to hide it all away
But through it I will remain

You have disappeared my friend
Forever lost to this world
Here I stand unknown, in the end
On this fresh pile of dirt
Above seeds and rotten eggs

Don't push away the pain
The only thing that is real
Is what makes your heart bleed
Perception is inception
It will build and it will breathe
You can try to push them away
But through it all I remain

You have disappeared my friend
Forever lost to this world
Here I stand alone, with a stain
Of your heart on my shirt
Above ashes, flames and Jane

Labels: artform, buckley, To a person who never returned to the world, video

Labels: passages, people, pictures, poetry, smile, To a person who never returned to the world

it was a new city
i wore new jeans
gathered feathers
put them to the test
negate the chance
of it being true
i made a plan
to talk to you
a flying elephant
i saw the show
i waited for the trick
what a plague
it drew
strings were set
you dropped a card
i followed through
the circus was subtle
the vegetation thick
it covered your wounds
it made me sink
homesick
but not for long
a swing a crash
a deluxe
cardboard box
all in place
to talk to you
slither above
shut your door
but not for long
silence crept
pulled you down
in front of the room
not left nor right
you held your bottle
like a light
it could have been
a message on a beach
a french weekend
what could it be
the perfume i wore
the house you built
the roof you shook
the ghost i used
the pillow you choked
the seat i took
the song you played
but not for real
to set the record straight
it was just a ruse
to talk to you
you were so grade A
you were so close
you were blinding
did i shiver
did i blink
i ran away
with the taxi driver
i got crushed
by a flying elephant
before i could return
to tell you about the spark
you left in my room
how the iron fell
on my toes
of a whisper barely broken
upon your heart and sleeve
about the gift and greed
of that afternoon
this is not a poem
this is not a secret
it is just my way
of saying...

Labels: artform, mood, notes, To a person who never returned to the world

Labels: “Do I dare?”, echo, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, To a person who never returned to the world

I am back from a very intense voyage in time.

I have been witness to elements that have changed me, burned my skin and filled the holes in my eyes.

Someone very dear to me has passed away and I spent these past days going through his remains...

I did not expect to come out of it this way.

Lighter.

Labels: To a person who never returned to the world