Breathe deeply my legacy,
My mysterious abandonments
My asylums of the dead.
So many forgotten dwellings
Now boarded up and cold.
I once wore them and shed them
Like snakeskins.
All these mental spaces,
What was their meaning?
What visitations did I encounter?
So many giant houses of horror,
Gothic crumbling, rotting
mansions of ruin.
There, I was imprisoned
In solitary confinement self-imposed,
Like a rodent feeding on garbage,
I never thought to look beyond.
I breathe deeply into this meager legacy.
Now all these houses remain idle.
Why I occupied them, I will never know.
In my final chapter, I see,
Everything was empty.
one-time betrayal of trust
taints pristine relationship.
there's nothing worth salvaging;
not much to cling to.
they gave it a fighting chance
sadly, it was all for naught.
too strong, the stench of decay;
their love couldn't last.
We hold hands as we walk through the woods
Rich with decay.
The leaves crunch beneath heavy bodies.
The smell of death follows us.
We walk slowly, savoring the day
For there is no use running.
Our hands fall limply by our sides.
What we once had in blooms is now rotting,
The bittersweet vines have choked the flowers we grew.
We are walking through this decaying forest,
Walking to a grave.
Hold my hand as we walk through this dead world,
As the book falls shut.
Give me a kiss before the fork in the river,
Whisper lies to me,
Say you’ll never leave.
Walk me through this forest of endings,
Then let me leave.
Where do decayed dreams go?
Are you like me and would like to know
Is there a secret place where they abide?
That's a fantasy dreams have died.
When I compose myself for sleep
Wondering what dreams may creep
What will capture my slumbering form?
To be young again quite transformed.
For one split-second when I awake
My midnight dream is not opaque
It does not linger decayed away
Momentarily I'm in disarray.
What causes a relationship to fail?
Decay sets in when thoughtlessness persists,
when selfishness extends beyond the pale,
and chances to show love are blindly missed.
Vacated houses crumbling with decay
once teemed with life and families with dreams.
Now in the wind, these spindly structures sway,
not willing to give up the ghost, it seems.
But Nature’s life-renewing power leans
upon decay of plants. Like night and day,
these opposites, decay and growth, are means
that lead to all Earth’s glory on display.
Each year Spring plants and flowers grace the Earth,
for God decreed that death results in birth.
Sadly,
The truths they claimed
Would set me free
Rotted
In the souls of twisted vines
And broken branches.
Decay
Spreading from stagnant soil
Through the roots
And twisted bramble
To the towering
Papal tiara.
Thus, freedom came
And I was lost
Left alone
To seek a truth
Unknown
To them
Yet longing
to be discovered.
Once vibrant and alive, hope danced in our eyes,
But now, a flickering ember, slowly it dies.
Time's cruel touch, it weaves its bitter thread,
Unraveling love, leaving hearts heavy with dread.
The promises once made, like whispers in the wind,
Now fade away, like echoes that rescind.
Love, once a flame that burned with fiery passion,
Now flickers weakly, consumed by life's ration.
Age, with its relentless grip, takes its toll,
Lines etched upon faces; stories yet untold.
Youth's vigor wanes, as strength starts to fade,
Leaving behind a yearning for time's escapade.
Once vibrant and alive, hope danced in our hearts,
But now, a wilted flower, it slowly departs.
Dreams once held dear, like fragile petals fall,
Withered by the weight of age's relentless call.
Amidst all the decay, a glimmer still remains,
A spark of resilience, refusing to be chained.
For even in the twilight, hope can still arise,
Love can find solace; age can bring surprise.
“This world is but thought and thoughts fade away ~
Eternal is God’s love, that’s here to stay”
~ quote by poet
Alive here on earth, what we know is this
What is born, will die, suffering decay
Though fleeting are moments of happiness
We hope one day bliss will be here to stay
Mind tells us we’re here for a short sojourn
But heart assures there’s more to us than this
Ceasing doubting, our soul befriends silence
In timeless time we’re drenched in mists of bliss
Yes, body decays and so does our mind
Yet it’s but the vehicle we ensoul
Oh worthy hermit, we are living light
Made in God’s image, as scriptures extol
Awake! Arise! That that dies, never was
We’re here but to live, learn and smile awhile
To share God’s love and light and so ascend
Ambling along with joy, mile after mile
Bilocating consciousness, truth is known
Birth, decay and death is an illusion
Likening earth life as a lucid dream
Awakened soul is free from delusion
“The torrent of trying time takes away
the debris of decayed dreams”- Quote by poet
In your squishy hug my fervent arms delicately turn
into the embrace of my heart’s enchanted urn,
set the lingering longing latent deep within
to sail in the sea of depthless desire keen.
In my ardent sea the waves roll to beguile,
spread the shining pristine pearls of your smile
with the mesmeric lattice of moon-rays entwined,
its sparkle splashes on my enticed emotion illumined.
In my fervor your sensuous shadow exudes grace,
the duality decays to oneness in fusing embrace.
When the ebb of toiling time takes you away,
in my heart eternally embellished you stay.
My feeble aspiration to capture the rainbow
to weave the tapestry of life with spectral glow,
turns into the self-destructive obsessive condition
that fails to dispel the dream-fringed cloud of illusion.
Shredded by the splitting bevels of the slashing strife,
fragile fragments of failure I feel sliced from my life,
spread on untraveled path to the rainbow frayed,
that lies dismantled in debris of dreams decayed.
Fleeting light streams through the broken window pane.
Flickering, as the only movement trying to bring life in vain.
The stillness is dense and dust lays thickly as all is grey.
The old house utters the softest moan, resisting evident decay.
There is an aura of shame, that it has been discovered this way,
Yet a distinct welcoming can be felt, its coupled with dismay.
The peeling paper on the walls, its former charm subsided,
The floorboards dry and cracked, beliefs of safety are misguided.
A yearning can be felt, a plea to resurrect it to its former glory.
Neglect has cruelly buried many a wonderful forgotten story.
The old house stands defiant against the storms the wind and flood.
One hundred years ago it was built with sweat, tears and even blood.
From its eaves and rafters to its foundations, it was built with pride.
A murmur comes from each empty room, heard faintly from deep inside.
Tears of its soul are felt. Whispers “rescue and restore me” it implores.
Gone are the wonderful stories, as the oncoming bulldozer roars.
Decay is a natural process of the universe,
It's, perhaps, a stage of impossibility to nurse.
A seed under the earth can resurrect; not if decayed,
A flower can disperse seeds, till they absolutely fade.
When the functions of traditions and values get weakened,
Unless reformed the degradation gets deadly deepened.
Superstitions and blind faith can make religions decline,
As Jesus said, new wineskins should be filled with new wine.
Will, if less income and more expense, economies thrive?
Could burglars and foolish vendors by the same wagon drive...?
Anything that loses value must be, on time, replaced,
Thoughts, words, and deeds of humanity should be ethics based...!
08 February 2023
At first, I thought it was only other people who confuse me; convinced myself I didn’t understand how to socialize.
Over the years I’ve come to the chilling conclusion this confusion is merely a side effect, a desperate diversion conjured by my brain to keep me from realizing I am broken.
That I'm the defective member of society trying to hide, not only from everyone but from myself.
My own foggy eyes. I am but what I am not.
My existence is an illusion, a hologram; a photograph at first glance is normal- nothing more, nothing less; but the longer exposed to the gaping eyes of logic, the more inhuman it becomes.
The photograph no longer resembles anything human, anything capable of life. This thing that lurks behind its frame is far worse than any lost mind.
Cut from its womb by shattered glass- blood and flesh dripping, clinging, and clogging whatever it once was.
Once easily covered and excused has revealed itself to be nightmares beyond recognition.
It lurks within all that breathe, but these breaths are drowned in tar.
Those voices are nothing but the corruption that comes with comprehension. Humankind, such a silly name for a species anything but.
Coldest mountains, sharpest peaks
Lonely, quiet there does lie
A better end it still seeks
Body under light blue sky
Its corpse has flown far and wide
Glassy eyes and foggy skin
Tumbling through river tide
None are there, no next of kin
The valley has mountain walls
Forever trapped, a ravine
So far down, echoing calls
None can hear his shadow scream
Water cold, it runs solid
Spirit wanders far away
Body kept almost flawless
Tired corpse is here to stay
Freezing water so no decay
Slowly comes the summer melt
Maggots gnaw his hope away
Hardened face begins to welt
Winters coming fast again
Who he was, none can tell
Here a hiker now and then
Body, now, just a symbol
Only few pay respects
Helping others escape his fate
Tourists, with different dialects
Though for him it’s much too late
Till this day the cold has trapped
Valley, his coffin he’s made
In a mountain, quite unmapped
A man, but only half decayed
When churches of honor decay
Mired in cynicism's wet glue
She splints the feet of hobbled faith
To believe as the unbroken do.
9/27/20
For 'Writing Challenge - Decay' contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
opposite sexes
in front of a decayed installment
there were two figures
one observer
posing in front of the installment
they were semi-naked
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