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Posts Tagged ‘hanging’

Hanging Heart Dripping

Running, running, running away,
To peaceful place where heart has fled,
I need, I need, I need to catch
My heart before my spirit’s dead.

Before the buzzing flies go round
My corpse, my corpse, my corpse that sees,
Just black in distance, distant air,
Catch up, catch up, catch up to me.

When my body finds my heart
In that serene swirl color,
I promise, I promise, I promise I will
Keep my word to friend and brother.

I’ll then be able to complete
The life, the life, I wish to live,
Bitter heart and angered soul,
Release, release, release, forgive.

That heart of mine I think I know,
Waiting on a steep face of rock,
Around it a protective orb,
Protect, protect, protect its thoughts.

I hope it waits and thinks of me,
Sends out a guide in white light beam,
So please, so please, so please arrive
So I can show it what I’ve seen.

To fill it whole and put in chest,
The face of rock is mighty steep,
I climb, I climb, I climb the beam,
My brain with memories to keep.

The only color is the heart,
Blank eyes, blank thoughts, blank skies, blank trees,
Life would be with a touch of grey,
Life is gone with no memories,

Unless the hanging heart decides
To wait, to wait, to wait for sight,
Sight my lost eyes could provide,
To call, to call, out into night.

Roar at the wild hanging heart,
Sitting, thinking, color-dreaming,
Ensure it’s mine and not turned black,
Raining, raining, raining, thinking.

Rock face wet and fingers bleeding,
A storm I will not soon forget,
Blank heartless land should not have rain,
What’s heart’s, what’s heart’s true habitat?

Pulsing, pounding, waiting, needing,
It needs, it needs, it needs to stay,
Was that a touch of color sight
Or are my hopes falling away?

Drip-drop red in front of grey,
The rain is not the rain I thought,
My heart, my heart, my heart it drips,
It drips, it drips down into rock.

Dripping liquid frozen love, and
Spraying, raining a forceful spit,
Into my eyes, the cracks, the brain,
I slip, I slip, my finger tips

Still seem a hundred miles out,
All that’s here are red and wishes,
I wish, I wish, I wish to cry,
Shades of redding-grey blow kisses.

My thoughts, my thoughts, my thoughts alone,
I ache, I climb, I shake alone,
I miss, I cry, I shatter bone,
Dripping heart, drip my love, take me home.

Too much this scene has weighed on me,
Storming, flipping red collection,
I think, I think, I think it has
More than one color reflection.

Reach the ledge, hope it wants thoughts back,
Liquid rocky mess, hope it knows,
I touch, I touch, I touch my heart,
It then, it then, it then explodes.

Kyle McHale      2009

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Thoughts in Autumn

I become lost in the scattered mess as I always am,
or seem to be, unable to break my unhappy cycle.
When daylight begins to die with everything else I find some peace.
The modern world allows for many of us to
avoid panic before the cold comes,
too much time to think when survival is not the pulse of thought.

I let an early frost-covered weekend morning break the silence,
and watch the cold glisten outside the kitchen window.
The house is asleep, though I am not.
My head hangs, my heart hangs,
my thoughts aren’t of anything memorable or meaningful.

Coffee is a good thing,
I learned to drink it too young with Gramps who would wake
too early to watch frost with a hanging head as well.
A deep sadness carried by men who often spread cheer themselves
but know the grim realities of life,
staying with those who have love in their hearts despite
the darkness of the world.

Slow mornings are good.
I wish I could share them with Gramps and Dad.
I say bring the season on with a quiet passion.
Dying colors have that special beauty,
an irreplaceable hit on the senses.
The air is cold, the coffee hot,
and I somewhere in between.
If anything I am ahead of the day
but behind in everything else,
thinking on this autumn morning.

Kyle McHale      2012

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