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Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

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More from ~matrix7

Was the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through Devart
not a w00ter was stirring (except maybe jark)
Submissions were made on the web site with flair.
In hopes of maybe winning some Devart underwear.

Deviants asleep at their keyboards again
submitting to contests (and hoping they win).
Up late again for a commenting spree
I went to the bathroom to take a quick pee.

When up on the roof there came such a noise
I thought it was Santa with all my new toys.
Then in a hurry I ran to the door
and what did I see (well it wasn't trendwhore).

The moonlight was shining like a big flashlight
and the scene that I saw confused me a trite.
I s

Fantasy Contest - Matrix7-1

Silent stalkers in the corners
of the mind of every man.
Always watching, always waiting
beckoning with withered hands.
Through the ages man has feared them
but found no hiding place it seems.
For even now you hear the echoes
of footsteps chased through evil dreams.
Down through tunnels formed by teardrops
raining down from countless eyes.
Taste the salt and feel the wind
made from victim's tortured cries.
Dragons, ogres, orcs and demons
all are spawned from childhood fears
Giving substance to the nightmare
we drown ourselves in seas of tears.
Listen to your soul and hear it
the sound that's been there all along
And as you s

Scream Within The Sigh

Locked within transparent prisons
Outside looking in or out?
Water drips to hard stone floors
from some distant unseen spout.
Limitations they chained to them
with phrases like "I dont know how"
Never realize their potential
Darkened by a see-through cowl.
Never stretching their horizons
never trying change it seems.
Never reaching for the stars
Never realizing their dreams.
I watch and listen all around me
So loud it almost makes me cry
But noone ever thinks to stop
and hear the scream within the sigh.

Hollow Soul

You try to stare me down with eyes
that have no substenance behind.
The spark is gone, the flame has died
and all that is left is hate I find.
All your vaunted goals are ended
All your dreams have come undone.
Your haughty laughter now condemned
your bitter eyes burn like the sun.
Long ago I offered friendship
I gift I thought you had received
But now I see your heart has receded
into the swirling void of lightless grief.
Years go by I watch you stumble
offer help and pride refused
So finally I let you tumble
sick and tired of the abuse.
Some may call it cold and heartless
but I call it your just desserts.
Why can't you see

After Midnight

Walking on a garden path
signs of life are all around
the song of birds, the smell of grass
in daylight all these things are found.

But after midnight it all changes
after dark the canvas fades.
The worlds we see by day estrange us
and joins in nature's cavalcade.

After midnight shadows lengthen
and daylight finds no place to rest.
And moonlight plays across the water
a silent song of subtleness.

After midnight lovers linger
and hold each other soft and near
Conveying impromptu expressions
of soft, sweet nothings in their ears.

After midnight warmth escapes us
carried off by chilling wind.
Unseen razors prick and freezes
th

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Transparent Dreams

by ~matrix7, Aug 30, 2001, 10:26:16 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

A sea of faces surrounds me
stretching to some unseen horizon
in every direction imaginable.
Each gazing, taunting
staring at me (or through me).
I feel very transparent.

Secrets lay flayed open
by an unseen assassin's knife.
Goals on display behind cases
of glass forged from crystal tears.
Dreams paraded around for all
to see. No secrecy, no privacy.
Put myself between the crowds
and my transparent soul.
Begging, pleading to leave me be
but nobody hears my pleas
(or they don't care).

After poking and prodding all my
most secret ponderings
the crowd has had their fun and move on
laughing until there is no air left.
And I have cried until the oceans ran dry
for I have used up all the tears.
Fall to my knees and caress
the shattered pieces of
my broken aspirations.
I put them in a pouch and tie
the cord tightly around my heart.
Never to be opened, but always hidden.

Go ahead and mock me.
Tell me how you despise my goals.
Deny my dreams.
Block my passions.
I will not be restrained,
I will no be confined
I will not be strapped down
I will not be intimidated.
Because I have myself
and my broken bag of dreams.
Someday they will be whole.
Then I will be
transparent no more.
And you will see me for the first time.
And you will finally understand....
but far too late.

Transparent Dreamsby ~matrix7

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

The life of a poet is not an easy road. Bearing your soul to strangers only to have them stomp your dreams and crush your plans. You must learn to push on, and continue to write because someday they will understand......just not in time.

trans.par.ent - Easily seen through or detected.....obvious.

Daily Deviation

Given 2001-09-01

Transparent Dreams by matrix7 says, "...I have cried until the oceans ran dry...I have used up all the tears." So what of the faces, blending into one, surrounding, he asks, "stretching to some unseen horizon...?" The poet holds in his hand, "my broken bag of dreams" transparent, needing, goals determined.... We stand in this together. selected by jsenn ( Featured by $devart )

~ashighasaeagle Mar 25, 2004

Heavy

~themadpoet Sep 2, 2001

very nicely done congrats on the dp ...and by all means keep them coming we have all been where you are and the strength you need is in your heart and your words...thats where i found mine

words mean nothing without emotion ....show some heart write a poem

~oddlyaromatic Sep 2, 2001 Hobbyist Writer

Nice, me knows the feeling.

I think everyone does. Wahey on the DP, and I'll see you and Chairmas, thank you.

~sixwings Sep 2, 2001 Professional Photographer

Although already an excellent writer... I think you are actually getting better!

Congrats Thumbs Up

~----josh---- Sep 2, 2001

I can relate very much to this. An outpouring of your innermost feelings gets uploaded, scored, awarded for the day, and then it's on to the next one, while you are left pondering..

Did they read it all...?
Did they understand..?
Did it make any difference to anyones perception..?
Have I touched someone today...?

Well, you have. Because I feel what has been expressed in this work. So I read it, and score it, and congratulate you on your award, and move on to the next one...

:-) (Smile)

Psalm 139:13

For you created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mothers womb.

~jinoise Sep 1, 2001

... i am speechless..
this is beautiful =) (Smile)

very good work.. keep it up =) (Smile)

.past.present.future.then?

`sanguru Sep 1, 2001 Hobbyist Writer

congrats on the DP. Well deserved Wes. love your work.

---------
question silence.

°jsenn Sep 1, 2001

Perhaps it just me tonight, but I know the words you've written. For a long time and still now with some, I held this in secret...too precious to give to ridicule or criticism. So the agonizing flow of your words were poignant and so relatable. The goal must have validation not just in us but in others to be, somehow, of value to us. There, it is easily destroyed, will tumble into the chasm with the slightest ill wind of doubt within. Sometimes we should not be transparent but solid and steel hard, keeping the secret for self, the goal for later when we have been strengthened. You will be strengthened here. I chose your poem as Daily Poem because it reached farther than surface. It expresses that elusive feeling of transparency and spoke of goals that one day will be accepted as viable and worthy. They are precious to us, they will be, someday, to others. Determination has so much to do with success.
(¯`·.,¸¸,.·´
j♥y

!xshock Aug 31, 2001

that wasnt long! you people are way too impatient. a poem of that quality, i could read for an hour! as people said, very nice imagery and metaphors. your stuff is very original, good job

~somnambulist Aug 31, 2001

Excellent poetry here, emotional yet simple concepts. :) (Smile)

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