Burnt Sierra's Poetry, Abandon all hope, ye who enter here... Options

[Burnt Sierra]

Resurrection Dream - Part 1

Paris Texas taken to technological extremes
Communication without pain.
As we type
We watch you
Your movements
Your smiles
We hear your voice from our speakers
We can say
Whatever we want
No fear of reprisals
You don’t know who we are.
Are we in search of a life
Or just passing the time
One thing I know
You will live forever
Deep in my hard drive
This is my Resurrection Dream.

I like to turn off the volume
Listen to music instead
Playing along to your disembodied dance
Aimee Mann telling me I have no choice
Softly in the background
At times like this
It’s easy to believe
Your words appear on my screen
Giving me connection
You answer what I type
Who needs reality?
I can smoke without complaint
Let’s face it
You can’t smell it
My window’s wide open
The trees blocking the graveyard
Letting the spirits listen to Aimee
Whilst I feel full again.
It’s not a life
Maybe just existing
But it help’s to pass the time
Whilst we wait to be reborn
My Resurrection Dream.

[Burnt Sierra]

Resurrection Dream - Part 2

The midst of a sleepless night.
Thoughts, cascading through my head
refusing to slow down
tormenting me with their bustle.
A jumble, which I'm too tired to untangle.
On the bedstand, a cigarette
winking at me invitingly.
Who am I that I should resist its call?
The window is closed
I must have shut it before bed
now all steamed up from within
blurring the view.
I pull up the window, then pull on the smoke.
One of life's rare moments of pleasure
that lead inexorably to death.
The irony of this escapes me.
To fear death in the midst of this living decay.
This is my Resurrection Dream.
That I shall awake
and find this is real.

[Burnt Sierra]

Gutter Glitter

You say it’s all going to be alright
But I’m practised at seeing through your lies
It’s just you and another sound bite
Skirting the history you seek to revise.

Well, now it’s my turn to be forthright
What you’ve become, I’ve begun to despise
And before I walk out and finally take flight
Allow me to say it shouldn’t be a surprise.

I expect when I’m gone you’ll jump onto Twitter
Complaining about how you’re crying alone in the rain
But not every street gutter has glitter
And in truth, I’m not the cause of your pain.

[Burnt Sierra]

At This Moment

At this moment
staring across fields
a canvass yet to be drawn,
furroughs yet to be ploughed.

Paint with broad strokes
a colourful montage
your footsteps an imprint,
in the annals of time.

One day they'll be talking
about the woman long ago
she who walked along the path,
and strode into the unknown.

Chalk scribbled names
written on trees
it's your's for the taking.
At this moment.

[Burnt Sierra]

This Day

It was supposed to be sad,
this day,
remembering him.
Not like this though.
This I can truly say
I had not anticipated.
Although I don't know why.
My attention was focused on the past
I assume.
All evening I've sat here.
Drinking my wine,
smoking till my throat is dry,
then drinking once again.
It just doesn't seem right,
somehow.

An explosion might have sufficed.
Some momentous flash of blinding white light.
Something spectacular.
Something.
Anything but this.
Fourteen years ended like that.
It just seems such an anti climax.

[Burnt Sierra]

Sea Breeze

A new incense today
Sea breeze
Light and gentle life is breathed into the room
Can a perfect scent
Purify me?
I once broke rules
That haven't been invented yet
Yet I couldn't accept
What you did.
I never asked if you did it
Out of pleasure or need
Though I think I can guess.
No matter now.
I wonder if I could do it again,
Impossible as that may be,
Could I accept it now?
It's a question I can never answer
So I guess I'll never find out,
But I do want you to know
That I do feel regret.
I did love you.

[Burnt Sierra]

The Mirror

A distortion of reality
Designed to induce paranoia
Burning in the image
Of another future suicide.

Beware of reflections.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

The Mirror

A distortion of reality
Designed to induce paranoia
Burning in the image
Of another future suicide.

Beware of reflections.

Oh wow. That reminds me of...something. I love it.

[mALX]

On the bedstand, a cigarette
winking at me invitingly.

I love this line!

I am loving these poems!

"Gutter Glitter," "This Day," and "Sea Breeze" - these felt sad and final, the closing of a chapter in the writer's life and we are inside his head as he turns the page.

"The Mirror" - that kind of reminds me of the Native American belief that captured images capture a bit of your soul with each - picking away at your life force till it is gone. Every time I see pictures of someone taken recently before they died I think of that.

If this poetry is yours, you should be publishing it and selling it, you have an Awesome talent!

[Burnt Sierra]

Observation

When I first started to write
One of the first lessons I learned was to observe.
Detached. Uninvolved.
Purely recording the details.
I’ve been trying again recently, although I struggle.
Observing your legs failing.
Your balance losing the battle against gravity.
Seeing your mind, which used to be so, so sharp.
Too sharp.
Like your tongue when you thought I’d done something wrong.
Slowly give in to confusion.
Then rage.
Then rage at the confusion.
As I try to watch detached.
Figuring out which part I’m playing today.
Son? Husband? Brother?
I seem to have been cast in all those roles these last few weeks.
Who knows who I’ll be tomorrow?
As I watch.
Record the details.
Try like hell to remain detached.
Try like hell to remain calm.

JPG 2019


The Guardian Of Saint Petersburg

I’m up here with the spires
Heart holding a thousand tiny fires
Looking down on the city lights
Never speaking the last rites.

Cars move like motion blur
My compassion starts to stir
Everyone desperately seeking
But inside they’re shrieking.

Twilight surrounds me
But I can clearly see
Here I am free
The holder of the key
The guardian and protector

The air is clearer here
Muffled sounds all I hear
My only company the statues
But this solitude I choose.
It’s rare that I can breathe.

Down there on the streets
Battling a life full of defeats
Walking In the gloom of the gutter
Their heads down as they mutter
From up here it sparkles and glitters.

Twilight surrounds me
But I can clearly see
Here I am free
The holder of the key
The guardian and protector
In the never-ending quicksand
I hold their world in my hand.

JPG 2019


Disappear Here

Lost on the road between hope and despair
Feels like I’m losing my mind.

Searching all around for the light in the dark
Anything to show me the way.

Long lost faces loom out of the shadows
Closer and closer
They’re coming for me.

I’ll beg and I’ll plead
I’ll fall to my knees
My pride was the first thing to go.

There’s too much going on
More than I can cope with
No sign of escape anywhere.
All that I want is to disappear here.

JPG 2019


Play The Hand Fate Dealt

I wonder if you only knew
If I was to stand here and tell you true
Would it help you to pull through
Help your belief to renew.

It’s time to start this fight
Even in the depths of midnight
Time to head towards the light
For a future you will rewrite.

Fight like you know Kung-Fu
Don’t let your mind play tricks on you
Focus on the goal to pursue
Remember the symbolism of the tattoo.

This is the moment of truth
This is where you find out what living really means
This is where you find out who you truly are
This is where you play the hand fate dealt.
The hell with the dealer, just let it ride.

“It always seems impossible until it’s done” – Nelson Mandela

JPG 2019

[mALX]

Ooh, you are writing your poetry again! WOO HOO!

Love the futility of trying to remain detached in "Observation;" and of course the encouragement and motivation behind "The Hand Fate Dealt."

Every one of your poems have always reached the deepest places inside the reader in ways that they could never express themselves with such clarity as you are able to do! (an especially good example is "Disappear Here." )

These are all so good; but my favorite of all is "The Guardian Of Saint Petersburg." It's theme feels kind of like "Observation;" but the paradox between the isolation of the spires and the increasing of the focus on the world below is really outstanding!

Love your poetry!!! And even moire than that = :LOVE to see you on the Forums again !!!!!!






This post has been edited by mALX: Nov 16 2019, 02:43 AM

[Acadian]

Welcome back, Burnt Sierra!

I see your skill with verse has not abandoned you. I found Observation especially evocative and poignant.