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Category: reality

A blessing in twilight’s thoughts.

ladyarmor

At dawns awakening
the world screeched
upon the etched carvings
of a spiteful tongue,
hates essence
suffocating my light.
Drowning in yester-
years ocean of
delinquent blood.
The hours owned
by the devil, wiped
clean by the angels
beating wings.
The merry go round
of existence. Dawn
becomes day, day
becomes noon,
noon leaves too soon.
After drowning in
evening’s promise,
night begs for
resistance.

Tired eyes and stinging
mind, I walk the halls
to you, no calls for mum,
no echo of media.
I pause about your feet,
and take in life’s splendour.
A gift . . . the soft hum
of sleep already arrived,
the whisper of a moment’s
promise. I pause now with
freedoms time upon my hands,
and stare into the heart
of twilight skies. your
gentle sleep, a melody so
sweet.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017

Image found on pinterest

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Was God even listening?

As a kid I knelt at the side of my bed. Eyes closed, hands clasped together I prayed to God that I would wake from this continuos dream. Turns out I wasn’t dreaming.

Karen Hayward ©2016

The Darkness has a cast Iron grip.

 

Some days it becomes me.  A heavy weight

upon my shoulders as the world pushes and

pushes. Some nights I forget what before

felt like. I close my eyes, my mind wanders,

but it can’t, it can’t recall a time before the pain.

I pull air into my lungs, ribs wincing from

the sudden movement my shoulders scream

despite my need to breathe. I pull my knees into

my chest, each muscle groaning. Perhaps I can sit

perfectly still let the coldness creep through me,

let the darkness take me. But the darkness

already has me tight within his claws.

Squeezing me tighter each throbbing pain,

each screaming ache, a reminder that I stand

alone and as my soul is taken into the

depths of the abyss, I wonder did you

know why it is I struggle to believe when

you give me no light at all to see.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Lucky charm or call to death?

My Dad warned me about guys like you,
with your charming looks and eyes of blue,
your slippery tongue
and blind need for fun.
My Dad warned me of guys like you.
They canna keep it in their pants
he’d tell me gently so it wasn’t a rant.
They’ll end up riddled with STI’s
Stay away child, my Dad would cry.
I slipped into the blue pools of your eye’s
your charms magnetic, you didn’t need to try,
as you spun yarn upon yarn pulling me in
till that moment when my brain came up to breathe.
My Dad warned me of guys like you,
The charm he said, is never true.
Their colours show with time he said,
even willing to make a bet.
I broke the field of magnetic pull,
walked away when I wasn’t full,
you glared as I walked the floor,
Mumbled something as I shut that door.
Time moved the way it does,
In no particular incessant rush.
I saw you here, I saw you there,
not a glance to show you ever cared.
Years have passed and years have gone,
my Dad’s wise words are never wrong.
So much charm always another gal upon your arm,
never did you stop to think of the harm.
Riddled now with deaths calling card,
all those lives, it must be hard.
Spreading joy and love and death,
I thank the skies I upped and left.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Setting upon my soul.

I rest for a moment, gathering strength beneath the flaming skies.
The orange flickers of hope draining as darkness falls.
Soon death will sparkle from the depths,
each star a worn out tear, once wept.
The frozen fingers of reality will draw against my skin,
freezing all that I am within.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Watch the flowers bloom.

You drop the oppressive walls of your archaic

patriarchal system around me. Strip bare the

solitude, papers, other worlds, gathering dust.

Cotton sheets empty. You let the sun flowers die.

Draining the life from the dying seeds. You place

the wooden cage over me, give me the key,

and dare me to try. Sweetness seeping from your pores,

soothing the empty void. Your voice cold and distant.

You wear the smile of a sore loser. Fine china, cracked,

chipped, you’ll keep going till broken beyond repair.

Blooming beneath the spring sun,

cut down by your rotating blades.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016.

The Black Veil.

The creation of distance an elaborate wall of defense indestructible, impregnable. The seeping residue of desire eliminated on sight. Just the slip of the tongue an inkling of fun, in the harshest of lights I find this new sight.  Freedom of sorts exploration of thoughts, no tie to reality my speciality. Follow me into the depths of despair, in the shadows you’ll find someone to care, a troll a monster or darkness itself. Walk with me through the hollow shells, where once sat a heart that often did swell. Let me use you and take you I promise it’s true. The honesty found in the erective salute and the white flaming juice that you’re able to shoot. Play the strings, strum them, listen as their melody fills the air and know for a moment that you are there. Hope for a moments recognition in the blinking of an eye,  see the emptiness recognised by only the sky. Sheets covered, sticky and wet, a moments pleasure you might try to forget. It follows you around in the depths of your mind, a curiosity of what creature you’ve found. Emotive humans slave to their thoughts always seeking what they believe to have sought. Spiteful words, indignation to the free soul that constantly needs out for an elaborate stroll. Walks filled with passion, fingers that roam, thoughts that are free to imagine,  yet blinded in the caves of repression. A divide, a slither of time where darkness hides. A slip of the foot, a slide of the toe changes the results of the black lace show. Bodies hanging from the butchers hooks desire congealed in realities nook. Flesh and blood and bone, alone. Alone. Aesthetically pleasing until the flesh will rot, bones will crumble, blood will dry and no one will utter goodbye.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

My feet walked in a whisper.

Eye’s upon the floor my feet walked in a whisper.

Hair upon my face my lips spoke in silence.

Skin beneath my clothes my body was a vessel.

Silence in my mind my soul was empty.

Darkness in my heart was my only light.

Hiding from the world was my only salvation.

Tears of frustration my only relief.

It took everything I had to walk to this beat.

Fear, the cast iron shackles.

Fear, the iron the bars.

Fear, the obstacles of life.

Fear…the sharpened knife I used to cut away

the puppeteers strings.

Fear, keeps me in the shadows.

Fear, keeps me hidden from sight.

Fear, the nightmare that haunts me on the darkest nights.

Fear, the self regulated ego for belief in the worth of the self

is invalid when whispered from my tongue

in the darkness of my self induced shadows.

Karen Hayward ©2015

Beneath the cloak.

The observer,
watches. Listens
as words are spoken
and internalises the
empty echo, becoming
Finally
a shadow.
Unseen, unheard beneath
a cloak of invisibility.

Peering out from the
dark cold empty space,
the world appears to have
changed.

A brave act to visualise a soul onto the page,
to transform the lustrous rage,
harder still, to step out and engage,
to gratefully accept and happily take.

To be seen when all darkness has consumed,
Living has been resumed,
if I can let go and let myself bloom
In the privacy of a neutral room.

Karen Hayward ©2015.

If like were grey scale.

If eye’s were black and life were blue,
if every question the answer were knew, 
If every act we looked at anew,
then every response we know could be true.

Karen Hayward 2015 ©