Answers

I looked to the sky in the morning, but found no answers to the plethora of questions I had. There was only the warmth from the sun breathing life into a new day as it had done every morning since time eternal.

I looked to the sky at night, but found no answers still. There was only the incomprehensible vast depth of space reaching out in all directions.

And so I looked to myself. Fueled by passion that burnt as brightly as the sun, I realised I was like a star; just a spec of light amongst a multitude of others upon the dark fabric of life.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Lost

Something hurts inside
When you’re lost and can’t be found
You feel so disconnected
From every sight and every sound

No place to call your home
As there’s nowhere for your heart
So you endlessly keep walking
Getting further from the start

Tears they fall around you
Like heavy rain on the blackest day
And the scars you cannot see
Will within you always stay

To this life of shattered dreams
You’ll be forever eternally bound
Because it hurts a little more
Each day you’re lost and can’t be found

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

When?

When your fears turns to tears, and dreams crumble into decaying debris.

When salvation becomes the barrel of a loaded gun and you drink your poison to numb the pain.

When every fibre of you soul is manipulated like a marionette’s strings, pushed and pulled beyond you will.

When a heart doesn’t break, but it cracks and shatters into millions of pieces lifting into the night sky to join the stars.

When the words have been spoken and all feelings gone.

That is when it’s the end.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Emotions

Emotions are strong things. We act blindly at times because of them, through hurt and pain, sadness and anger. Sometimes though, through these strong feelings of emotion, a poet will create some of his best work.

A pile of stinking putrid filth
A gut wrenching
Vomit inducing
Stench of decaying hopes and dreams
Tortured helpless minds
Ripped out souls
And empty shells
Zombies to emotions of once they felt
Limp and lifeless forms
Meandering
Stumbling through the cesspit of life
Let me join you brothers
The legion of damned
The unloved
Slaves to abandonment and eternal loss
As I say “Good luck you all!”
The lovers
Romantics
And all of those that harbour hope
For love is death upon it’s end
Rips out your soul
Rots your heart
And leaves you broken to the core

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Winter’s Hold

I see the appendage of a tree, stripped bare like bones ravaged by natures scavengers. I see the rock, ancient, towering and monumental. It is grey synonymous with the old. I see death, sadness and forlorn without hope. Much like the faces of those looking out from within. The land is gripped in Winter’s hold. It is cold and foreboding. All recoiling from her icy touch.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Getting back into things

I wanted to write a little piece, just to see if anything would form in this supposed creative mind of mine, see if I was still able to make words flow and ebb like calm gentle waters over the minds of those reading.

I call this ‘Drifting into Seperation’

Two ships under a crescent moon, slowly parting upon opposing tides. Communications languish, until eventually all connections are terminally disconnected. Relationship ebbing away, like water through open fingers. Tears become now your passengers, and all your smiles have abandoned ship.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Just a Question

What is it to live these days?
I spend most of my time locked up doing the things that pays for the box I’m locked in.
And to make box more aesthetically pleasing, costs more money, and so spend more time working to afford the things I have no time to admire.
The friends I’ve made have become nothing more than recognisable text on a screen, that offer a worded “hello” or an emoji, that it becomes weird and awkward speaking, let alone seeing them in person.
My mind feels starved of stimulus, instead taking on board garbage from the television or radio, until my sanity snaps and I reach for yet another book.
Dark nights draw in early, weather’s still cold, and a warm duvet is often a welcome respite from the monotony of the day.
I miss laughter, the sound of pointless banter. I miss being sociable and getting together with like minded folk to discuss things of interest.
I miss hugs and I miss kisses.
Living alone, even with creature comforts of life, is lonely, ever so lonely.
So I ask again, what is it to live these days?

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard