Stop and Go Life…attempted escape
Thoughts so dark…
Thoughts become blades,
then turn to wings and fly away,
yet I feel their presence,
their looming fate within darkness,
and bleed if I must
to keep them at bay,
as words choke my resolve,
like gnarled fingers tight around my neck,
as I breath a toxic gasp,
as if a gas has pervaded every cell,
and then it relents, fades into darkness,
still within the periphery
of my wandering mind.
Butterflies carry hope
and the colour of time not yet expended,
and I follow their erratic trails,
hoping for respite
some time within the light,
before thoughts arrest my mind,
and the dark figures alight
to test my will, and disrupt the still
I so seek in compensation,
yet those patch-work wings,
turn to metal, cold steel grey,
as that erratic flight resounds
in sharp metallic spite, decay,
and darkness pulls the reigns.
Escape is a fairytale I once knew,
before those whispers made sure I understood,
and the words just melted,
like a Dali imprint upon my brain,
and their molten heat did singe my feet,
as I ran away, wings fluttering,
blades tearing, clawed hands grasping,
darkness perusing my panic,
as I run with nowhere to go,
in circles of myself, pushed, shoved,
entreated, snubbed,
until I reach the surface light,
where brews my stop and go life.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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Thoughts can certainly invade and take over our mind, making it so difficult to obtain peaceful calm. Sometimes a whole mixture of thoughts go swirling round my mind like Chaos before the Universe came together. I love to ponder deep on some of your poetry, Tony. This one sure gives me that opportunity. Great work.
Thanks Phyllis, yes I was in a certain mood when I wrote this; a little different and layered with esoteric thoughts. Cheers!
This triggered a slew of thought and personal relation for me, as I might describe my own ‘episodes’ so to speak. Excellent imagery, the Dali reference was perfect, torment coming to the forefront. I also really appreciated the contrast of the butterfly from colorful, and soft to erratic, ‘patchwork’ wings now metallic sharp. The turn, the panic, and ultimately the cycle of circles around ones own darkness and finally the break…reality back into the light of life.
Not to pick this a part, but only to say how I percieved this piece, for myself, and found relation to it. For me, this was excellent, I fell into its imagery.
Best,
Mel
A lovely compliment Mel, thank you, and everyone perceives poetry differently as there is no definitive understanding. The joy is that words trigger thoughts within us, so we may understand ourselves and what relates to our lives. So pleased you related and enjoyed the work. Cheers!