love

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Darkest Light.

 

Photo

Darkest Light

Consuming
and all drowning
my essence of night.
Deepest blue,
darkest burgundy,
it matters not,
my essence is cloaked
in this state, this void.
Think not of my night
and my aura as negative
for a dark state
can be a canvas.
A blank page for
something bright
to create. . .something
bright to form
my nights’ sky
and give it character.
and make it
come alive.

Yet it should consume me.
Darkness such as the night sky
should devour me, swallowing
my essence into oblivion.
Do you see me?
I am a mere whisper
of light lost in the echos of time. Yet,
when you lay me upon
your dark essence,
your canvas
becomes my art.
Your depth is my contrast.
I tip toe through your darkest blues
leaving illuminated kisses.
My essence, glimmers and glistens
upon your touch, for my light. . .
is love,
created by your darkness.

Words & Image
©5-2017 Locthiese/Karen Hayward

Check out more work crafted by the multi-talented Loc Thiese by clicking here

love came at a cost.

banshee

The oxygen in my crimson blood.

Love? Beyond spacious atoms, lust?

Love could never be our song.

Oxytocin stuck to us,

seeped from our pores,

became our alphabet.

A tug of war and I always lost

my flesh came at a cost,

to us both,

to you,

to me.

Nothing comes for free.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest

 

I will be her moat and drown in the suffocation of your spite.

A wonder to me,

so much hatred in those

eyes and spite in those words.

Atrocities of self imposed ego,

the world must be bowing down

at your unwashed feet for the axis

of the earth tilts at your command.

Come down from your mighty throne

and lay upon my skin your bite,

fists scorned in fury, scars from emotional

battlegrounds hold no depth now and

you linger on the grass verge of betrayal

your hate washes over me much

the same as your fingers at my throat,

meaningless as you pull me back into the

depths of your hell, my worth carries no

value you cannot strip me of what i do not

own. And so it is, no pain is pain without true

gain her heart so pure you tainted it in the

posion of your callous tongue, you crush her

with your heavy burden of fear in a repressed

offering of strength, you are all powerful as she

cries tears, you are king as she tends to the broken

beats of her heart, you are all…I shall pick up

the pieces as i always do, sellotape the cracks

and whisper to her that she is princess to a

Queen…I will cocoon her in love so great your

hate cannot break the barrier, i will be her wall

of defense and meet with pride your fury, i will

be her moat and drown in the suffocation of your spite.

I will be her castle and keep her safe for eternity.

You are a wonder to me so much hate within

those eyes so much poison in that heart, so much

spite in that soul, you are blind and raging in a

storm of your own creation.

 

KH*©2017

Willowed whispers.

…and in the willows
wisp of love,
where shadows reign
and death departs,
the beast ascends the
ancient walls
searching the shallow
skies of time,
to bless upon your
soul,
and mine.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Essence upon the air I breathe.

maygarden 015

Walk with me as one.

For was this not always

your most desired wish?

To see the world through eyes anew,

to experience life in my view?

Wander freely, listen to life’s music,

watch God’s miracles,

talk with nature in unity, laugh,

dear God laugh, for laughing is compulsory,

a must,

a treasured past time that transmits

the frequency of life echoing through the

atoms of our existence. Do you see?

Silver thread aligns a row of clouds in

preparation and I paint the walls in grey

so melancholy knows

already my name and

never comes a searching

for my soul in which to tame.

Walk with me as one beneath

a single sun and illuminating moon

your essence upon my skin and

spirit within my soul, come now,

dearest,

walk with me…

Karen  Hayward ©2017

 

For what reason does the soul sing a symphony of words?

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A celebration of life,

I ponder what is such without poetry?

And what is poetry without life?

But for the empty void of letters amassed

together to create a void of

existence nullifying to the soul…

Karen Hayward ©2017

 

 

A passing essence of lost hope.

Your soul is empty,

your spirit waned,

’tis the reason you

play desperate games.

A master of words, they slip

from your tongue, soothing

the edges whilst you have your

fun. The world is created

through images of flesh,

and you consider them this or,

perhaps a bit less. You play and

you take your feelings so fake.

A whirlwind of fantasies out rank

life’s realities. But when day break

comes and you’re all out fun, you’re

going to realise whilst you were playing the field

with nothing to build,

she passed you by, that single one.

Karen Hayward ©2017

To rise again…

ladyarmor

The time has come that I must

again stand upon my feet

and go forth

into this world.

Rising from the ashes

your spirit

now the ink within my pen,

your love is the voice within

my words… and yet still my legs

shake as a new born deer does on her

first arrival.

©KH*2017

Image found on Pinterest

The swarming venture of a thousand wasps.

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In the whispered hush of frozen thoughts

where darkness reigned, indifference

swarmed, he took it all he stripped me bare,

transparent value worthless flair.

Spiraled path, twisting fate, storming

skies a tasteful hate in the hush of frozen

thoughts, where darkness fought and

indifference swarmed.

KH © 2017

Crimson flow of death of life.

ladyarmor

Upon my knees

I plead for the

crimson

flow

of

death,

of life,

release me off

this torment that

flames within each cell,

each atom of myself,

the damning condemnation

of anatomy versus the spirits.

Will I resurrect on combustion?

On eruption will I realign into a calm

and ebbing ocean of delight, sprinkled in

heavens gold dust…will I hell! The scorn of

the blood moon seeps into the fibers of existence.

Perhaps in fighting the urge I am defying my nature,

the flames of resistance tear at my skin as the burned embers

of heavens feathers scatter across skies of doom.

Must I forever resist this bite? An internal

craving to become the beast,

to embrace the fallen

angel to scream

from

somewhere

deep within my soul…

Upon my knees I plead for the

crimson flow of

death of life,

release me from this torment.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest