The Tempest – A Hellish Journey Into The Darkness

Howling winds pounding incessantly on the dirty window panes

The constant rattling a reminder of the frailty of security

A glass barrier, thin and resilient….to a point

Much like the invisible walls that surround my life

Mayhem from modern activities my personal windstorm

Dust, as the remnants of those times where things just happened

Messy things; things that left more than just a paper trail

As I sit here silently contemplating my escape plan

The pitch of the gale rises to something fevered and askew

Concentration a foregone conclusion, as it comfort

I scratch and tug at my shirt as if trying to lessen its pull

My throat feeling tight and my chest constricted

Aching muscles a symphony of pain, erupting simultaneously

Coupled with a stiffness in my lower back

And the headache that rises up just enough, but not too much

So its presence is known, but isn’t quite debilitating yet

The air feels thinner than usual, or does it?

My focus point, a moving target which even I cannot pinpoint

Again I sip from an empty glass, only a few cubes of ice

Stirring my thoughts to possible action, before quashing it

Anchored to my chair is where I must remain

Despite the draft from the window, another reminder

A tempest, with all its power playing a dual role tonight

On the outside it’s obviously something beyond my control

While inside my fragile walls, another rages within

My keyboard glowing with artificial light

An empty page staring back at my empty head

Jumbled sentences collide with thoughts of ambiguity

Witty phrases entangled with poignant thoughts

And since I’m alone, nothing offers a comforting guide

The silo of creativity seems to have been upended

Its contents scattered in the prevailing winds

Heavy rains driving the rising thoughts downward

In torrential walls of impenetrability and seclusion

Nothing remains but the damp and cold emotions

The darkness; and those words which are rarely spoken

As the hours pass, the raw nerve throbs, demanding

Attention to detail, attention to something else

And so tenuously my hands flutter above the keys

One word, just a single word to ignite the engine

Hunt, peck, hunt, and peck again, slowly and deliberately

Stronger as one sentence leads to two, and then three

Dark words are still words and the list begins to grow

Anger, malice, and tales of destruction generating noise

Droning out the pounding weather, or perhaps merging

With the tempest outside becoming the tempest inside

Feeding the darkness with a maelstrom of text

Conventional wisdom a foregone conclusion

A runaway engine producing noxious smoke and lethal fumes

My soul a prisoner within as the darkness consumes

The chill now welcomed as it cools the stoked fires

Madness creeping in as my fingers pound the letters

Damning each line as part of some unholy scripture

That which is not accepted is my reality

That which is unclean, debaucherously delicious

That which is avoided at all costs, now embraced

And madness is now my certainty as I keep typing

Transfixed eyes unable to focus on anything else

The narrative grows and grows with an unseen energy

Mountainous in projection and horrible in execution

Yet the darkness screams and shrieks in my head

Demanding more energy than I’m prepared to give

Shaking without control, I continue my nefarious journey

Merely a vessel, nothing more left to give

I write the tales of doomsday and destruction

No happy endings, no knight in shining armor

Only darkness, blood, gore and complete destruction

Transfixed on somehow finding completion

An exit strategy from the mayhem and murder

Trapped on the front lines of my imaginary battlefield

Shell shocked by my own mind’s creations

Screaming and screaming as my psyche is ripped apart

Letters and words spilling from my open wounds

As I crawl aimlessly looking for sanctuary

Sentences streaming from widening gashes

Drying like words etched in a granite headstone

My very own trail of tears my final calling card

At last, breathless, and drained on everything

My final breath, my last words….the end

R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.
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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all. I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed. I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another. I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me. I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

4 thoughts on “The Tempest – A Hellish Journey Into The Darkness

  • March 7, 2017 at 11:32 PM
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    As they say Ralph, better out than in. Lol. Oh many a night I have penned such dark and disturbing thoughts, one needs to vent, to explore the malevolence within. Nicely emoted and expressed in fine verse my friend.

    Reply
  • July 26, 2017 at 8:38 PM
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    RJ,

    This is incredible imagery! I felt that I was experiencing it for myself, and this was not necessarily a “pleasant” excursion, but it definitely woke me up! This is absolutely amazing poetry!

    Reply

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