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Posts Tagged ‘rain’

What is Left?

After death
what is left?
When heart break wins
what remains?
Melting skin and
spirit sweats,
what is there and
what has left?
Broken dreams or
family gone,
so it seems some
more sad songs,
life remains, life remains
but what is left?
One more time or
every time
a mirror shows a
sad soul blind
to all the wonders
that are left,
that are left,
after rage, war, and death.

The world is
still there somehow,
love is left,
love is left,
If only it filled
every breath.

 

Kyle McHale         2014

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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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I Wish

My heart does weigh heavy on this sulky, dreary day.
It weighs and counter weighs beats and skips a few.
The evil. The good.
It becomes so much for a man who attempts to stay true.
I walk down streets from a small fishing town;
the town hides from a storm.
So empty, feelings lost.
But there is an energy waiting somewhere,
like a bomb about to blow.
Color is mostly gone in this place;
it has been turned into fear and energy.
It is more than the calm before the storm though,
it is so far past panic that everything and everyone
are frozen like the fish they catch that are about to die.
But in each house a small fiery orange glow does shine;
it is faint enough to keep strangers away,
strong enough to hold families together.
It feels like old colonial hopes, grey, small, orange.
The streets are open but welcome no one.
Maybe a wave will wash me away from this place.
I, fearing more than most, know that I should not be here.
Come storm, come take me away, freeze me like a fish,
I wish,
I wish.

Kyle McHale      2004

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Weeping Flower

Dear weeping flower what is wrong,
Why do your petals hang so low?
Where is your color bright in day,
Why does your stem look sad and slow?

What patch of earth sustains your life,
Where do your roots reach deep down to?
Has someone cursed the aging ground,
What sadness stays to comfort you?

Will rain sweep in and nourish thee,
Or drown you when you fall asleep?
Does water even help you now?
In your weak roots will it keep,

Or pester you to slowly die?
Life asks of you for one more chance
To watch the morning sun shine down,
To be a part of nature’s dance.

Kyle McHale      2012

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