Unbridled Darkness ...

Unbridled Darkness

As I search for the light
in this eerily familiar room
Darkness won’t let me
find the switch I assume
I feel for the walls
that confine this hopeless space
So close yet so far away
that known boundaries are misplaced
 

Where lays that lost tunnel
that funnels away the despair ?
I know I have been there on hands and knees
naked, broken, bleeding and bare
Obscurity consumes me
I sense my aching soul
Am I back here again
in the isolation of forlorn holes ?
 

Is this a daunting dimness
no faint light may penetrate ?
Are these dark shadows’
self-tormenting delusions only a chimera state ?
Can I patiently wait
for the illusive light in this room ?
Isolation hears no mourning
as if this were my ultimate tomb ?

 Blessed be the final anguish
when merciful surrender evolves  into solitude
After all I nearly found redemption,
when I was rescued from earthly turpitude
Memories of slowly drowning,
gasping for a vivid dream
As the angels of mercy hovered over
the ultimate final scene

 Don’t deny what’s within the shadows
The  soul is never alone
In this place where midnight floods heartache,
with all that insignificance condones
Surely hopefulness  has merely vanished
as broken hearts leak
The last drops of love rain down in silence
while the spirit within is willing but the flesh is weak

 The soul of a man still clenches
for the tunnels to daylight
If only the mind could follow
its intuition’s path from black and white
As I search for the light
in this proverbial empty space
Dreaded darkness won’t unveil
illumination’s key to guidance that’s misplaced
 

These walls seem so claustrophobic
like fear has consumed
But darkness still envelops
the warrior’s tomb
Yearning for a passage
that was lost along route
Scratching and crawling,
loneliness timidly reaches out  . . .
 

© 2013 Harlon Rivers  …  All Rights Reserved

Blood Out of a Stone

He knew he would never suffer from the madness they perceive...It’s easy to look the other way when you’re blinded by what you see...while crawling, with eyes wide open, through a world of make believe...

A poem by Harlon Rivers

What is the song that the moon sings ?

In the silence of the starry blue night ?

Is it the sound of a heart breaking ?

Or the mournful moaning 

of a shadow fallen on bended knees, 

lost in a moment of stress and strife 

No one ever thought they would hear

a shadow screaming 

at the moonlit night!

No one gave it a second thought...

Never bothered to ponder

the unknown reasons for the thoughts.

He knew he could never suffer

from the madness they perceive

It’s easy to look the other way

when you’re blinded by what you see

Crawling with eyes barely open, 

through a world of make believe.

Don’t disrespect honest disbelief,

when the flame burns brilliantly high

Awakening revelations rise like heat lightning

An impossible unseen illusion

for those who are blocked 

by their own light

Just a mysterious inconvenience  

waiting for the whole thing to blow apart

A subtle unnoticed interruption 

like a shooting star in the foggy twilight

Emerging from the vanishing shadows 

absorbed by the fading darkness taking flight

Some days we innocently stumble 

Sometimes we trip and fall

Smash into something good…

Hang on until its time to let go

Trying to wipe away the final teardrops

is like squeezing blood out of a stone...

© August 2012 ... Harlon Rivers

A Victim of My Own Silence

...when the dominoes fall, a daunting feeling overwhelms me as if the weight of the world is resting on my shoulders and there is nothing that can be done to get out from under it...

A Harlon Rivers prose poem

                       "Falling Angel"

A Victim of My Own Silence

The perfect storm gutted a delicate balance
That once seemed the essence of emotional symmetry
A merciless tempest left a hollow
Fragile shell, gray and melancholy
as a dark cloudy day

A previously crystal-clear identity
Became lost in the smoke and ashes;
The smoldering ruble of what once was
Before the rampart storm’s fury fanned
The flames into a ragging abyss of what
Was already burning silently out of control

The depleted faint shadow of a shining light
Now remains dimmed by waning elements
Once glowing with an unbridled spirit of light
Dignity is a vague concept by which
We measure our toleration when dull unending aches
Overcome the obscure illusion of parity

A series of unrelenting raucous storms overpower 
willpower, manifesting a mind set-of helplessness 

evolving into unrestrained thoughts of hopelessness
An intimidating feeling as if the weight of the world
Is resting on my shoulders and there is nothing 

that can be done to get out from under it ~

Too few steps forward for too long
Too many steps in the wrong directions
Were taken while waiting
Stranded at crossroads
Where indecision stalled forward motion
On the road less taken

Mired in the humility of silent contemplation
A daunting unanswerable question
Dominates all remaining thoughts

What happens when the ache of the weight
Becomes too much too much to bear?

There comes a time when silence
Is just another word for pain . . .     

© Harlon Rivers ~ February 16th, 2013      
 

Insomniac Dreams

Scantily scattered moonlight filtered through the canopy of broken clouds and leaves... Moon beams strewn sloppily onto the midnight floor as blurred sleepless eyes scan the shadowed field through the bars of the big brass bed.

A poem by Harlon River.... a Word Whisperer chapter

Scantily scattered moonlight
filtered through the canopy
of broken clouds and leaves
Moon beams strewn sloppily
onto the midnight wooden floor
as blurred sleepless eyes scan
the shadowed field through the bars
of the big brass bed.
Opened window's fragrant air
chills to the bone
serving a cold reminder
that now is here.

The frogs croak so boisterously,
through the open window,
their annoying echo disturbs
the peaceful serenity
of the stone cold silence
from the dimly lit night.
They echo the sounds
of insomnia…

Scenes play out
across the satin
clad feather pillows
as if some old drive-in
movie projector re-ran
the same reel over and over
onto the giant screen's
dreamscape in my mind.
Tossing and turning
as each new scene fades.

Those scratches on that
favorite record with
tattered and frayed cover
from a distant memory
Imperfections make the song skip
in the exact spot each time
the player replays
Lost moments ruminate
as the record spins
Projecting the picture onto
the pillowed screen’s
silky thread count

Convoluted dreams seen
through the blinking dark circled
exhausted minds eyes
Only in insomniac lucid dreams
does silent reverie evolve
into tortuous nightmares
Never silencing the croaking frogs,
subtle yet raucous reminder,
that soon dawn will arrive
The cockaded crow's "caw" " cawing"
laughs haughtily at the orange sunrise
ending another loathsome
sleepless night
alone...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Teardrops are the Heart's Traces

…sometimes I cry…others see it and are afraid to be near, thinking it is about my darkness…they do not realize the tears are about theirs…
...thoughts about an "empath"

This is a second version of a poem written for the Word Whisperer chapters

Tears are the Heart's Traces

Tear in the eye

Wound in the heart

Teardrops ...that drip from these eyes

will never be hidden

No mask of humiliation

will cloak an empathetic soul

Tears fall without shame ...

Wept tears of merciful surrender

Pour out the essence of a mending heart

Willingly breathing… 
into a sympathy blinded world

Being mindful of unclear aesthetics 

when there is an unwillingness to unveil

the very core of true nature

Lean into imperfection's shine …

Embrace the light from tears shed

Releasing the traces of the loving spirit within

Giving love is to share unconditionally

with eternal purpose

Flooding out a flow of empathy

onto a love deprived world …

Love more ~

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Isn't it a Pity