I keep expecting you
to fade
to wake up one morning
and not care
so I
keep myself
one carefully measured step away
in anticipation
of your love's decline

so when your check turns
and you attention
wanders
elsewhere
my heart will not be left
all awkard
hanging
from an elastic thread
you forgot to pull off
your old pair of socks

for it's in your nature to
lose interest suddenly
we are both artists
who suck the marrow out
of each lovely bone

It just happens to be
my lovely bones
this time

How Bare

Jewel Kilcher

You don't call
I check again
I become uneasy -
is this a frame?
Suddenly I'm not so sure
I check my sources
each conversation becomes a crumb
how easily I'm led
how stupid I've been
to believe
you could be
loving me
you who can not be seduced
by anything other than
the temperance
of need
each one facilitating the next
and suddenly I see my place
the phone rings
you say hello
but I don't believe you

Jewel Kilcher

For five seconds,
it all vanished.
Faded into the wind
like some horrible nightmare.
Gone.

It was then,
in a brief moment,
I could imagine
that everything
was the way it should be.
Night had not
stripped me of my desires.

There was hope
in that morning.
Born, on broken wings.

Familiarity in five, short seconds.

My dad just wrote a poem for me and sent it to me. So, I thought I would post it here, cause that's what I do.

She held up the picture and told me to squint to see
A picture within a pictures but it was all swirls to me
Oh but can't you see the image of the landscape, soft, serene?
No, I can only see the swirls came my frustrated scream.

She told me to relax and rest and slowly open one eye
And hold the picture far away and give it one more try.
I thought what's the use but yet I did exactly what she said
With one eye and then with two I slightly tilted my head

The blurring started to make the swirl take on new transformation
I started to see what couldn't be seen, beyond my concentration
The picture was one of solemn peace and full of detail fine
I revelled that I finally found it and made the picture mine.

Show me why
you were my hero.
Why with child-like trust
I knighted you into existence -
and whispered through
a midnight’s path
those words -
“you are my hero”.

Why I fastened
the armour
around your waist –
attaching each piece
with prayer and a smile.
Never doubting
the why of it all.

Please, this is
my dying wish –
repeating with bated breath;
tell me – why were you my hero.

Confusion reigns these skies,
creating pockets of fog
upon once clear planes.
Amidst gathering clouds
raindrops fall - questions.

Why does 2+2 no longer equal four?

Sea weed floats
against this surface.
Swirling between
alge covered rocks
and moss invested banks.

Only to finally come
and rest against
this distant shore.
Tierd and alone.

I was alone
last night.
Wandering through
sand dunes.
A cold chill
invading my bones.
Wolves howled
around me.

I was scared,
scared that I
might die here.
Isolated and cold.
Devoid of all feeling.

Something that really bothers me, the cruelty and insensitivity of people at times. Rape is one of those things that I just don't understand - what would drive someone to hurt another person in such a way is horrifying - hence the poem.

Innocence has died
by the power
of your hands.

Bloody hands.
Butcher's hands.

Covered in a
midnights hunt.
Discovery staining
your teeth.

Remorse unknown.

Letting Go
[verse type things]
Letting go of what I’ve come to love
Was never something I planned to do
But it’s clear I can’t go on
Holding to these dreams of me and you

Every morning there’s an ache
A necessary emptiness inside
I guess I’m just waiting till that day
When you won’t be the first thing on my mind


[chorus type things]
I'm remembering how to breathe
Learning how to leave
--Your memory behind me
--Somewhere that it cannot find me
So I can freely love again

I'm learning to let you go
Believing that I'll grow
--Through all my doubts and questions
--Trusting in this new direction
Knowing that you’re nowhere
----to be found

[third verse/bridge-esque things to come…I hope]

Unfortunately not written by me.

Life has been birthed
from this womb;
in all it's brilliant form.

Clothed beneath
bloody dress -
writhing in it's own afterbirth.

Through pain, life has come.

Earth clutches her child
to her breast.

Rome has fallen
in a single night.
A wooden horse
its conquerer.

The invincible
is no longer.
Buried beneath
warm ashes and tears.

Only a memory remains,
amidst smoke and rubble.

History, created
between old parchment papers.

You exist
in half dimensions
not quite seen.

Behind stone words
that never rise.

In almost moments
where I am not.

There's only
a skeleton's remains.
The brittle shell,
shriveled - cold.

Though you swear
against it's existance.
Covering her with
flowers and wine.

You've praded
the bones
through ancient streets -
your Mona Lisa.

When she sobbed
for release;
you chained her
to your door -
and turned on
the radio.

You've become
a tyrant -
robbing peace
from a distant shore.

Strangling her life -
creating a slow death.

You exist
in a tear drop.
Wet from
recent
birth.

Travelling
across this
tender
flesh.

Evaporating
faster
then
can be
followed.

The marrow
has been sucked
out of these bones.
Those lovely bones,
one so full of life
and able to withstand
the diseases of winter.

Now they are empty
and lifeless - just as
your eyes.

You exist
in the almost thoughts,
the ones kept
in boxes
under the bed.

Boxes that never
settle quite enough
to collect dust.

More holding places
right now,
then storage bins.

Your memory fades
on a winter day,
all taciturn -
like the slow
migration of geese.
Nesting only momentarily,
then lifting quickly
in a flash of wings -
sabotaging this landscape.

In their absense
my mind is silent -
without the whirl
of their wings
against the snow.

A thirsty mind,
grasping each
fading memory
and running my
fingers through
the feathers -
each one is a treasure
for it might be
the last.

It has been buried,
Beneath the rubble
Of a million
Distant cities.
Lost, somewhere, between
Ancient ruins
And modern complexes.

Ancient tribes raise requests
To the sky, each night.
Will it return?
Will the gods
Find pleasure
In our sacrifices?

A million nights
Have answered.
A silent sky
Is the response.

Please

Please love,
when this
becomes a
memory.
And daylight
seems to
fade -
remember
how it
used to be.

When I
was beautiful
and you
were free.

Remember
liquid skies;
freshly
trampled grass.

And when
your hope
disapears -
embrace life
for this
will pass.

I swear,
by the moon
and the stars
in the sky,
that despite
what comes.
Be it winter rains,
or summer’s heat.
I will not forget.

Those moments
spent –
the days
that ended
all too soon.

Leaves, orion's belt,
dew ladden grass,
stoplights.

All has been
burned against
my skin -
never to leave.

This pale moon
stands as
a reminder.
A sum of days
now past.

The axis,
on which
the world
once turned.

A world
that disapeared
last night,
amidst
cold hands
and frozen
breath.

It happens,
at night,
when all
has fallen
asleep -
and no one
exists.

It's then
that I
see you,
and hear
your silent
screams.

Beckoning me
to a place
I can no
longer go.

These bones
have been
sucked dry.
Absorbed and
spit out.

Their juices
still line
your mouth -
in all it's
grayish form.

Your teeth
are stained -
moist with
the life
of those bones.

Full of their
lfie - completing
their death.

There are tears
here tonight,
creating rivets
against my
cold skin.

Winding tracks
across once
soft land.
Gathering
in crevices
and corners.

As if to say,
you have failed -
once again.
Tomorrow
will never
come.

Tears have
become my
witness.

Each morning
and tonight.

They've all turned in
their badges to
become surgeons.
Self-appointed doctors.

A million eyes all
trained on one corpse.
Searching for a reason
between fresh flesh,
and a once beating heart.

Probing without sympathy.
Determined to find
the answers -
each asking why.

Each digging their hands
deeper into the
death causing wounds.

A million tears
have fallen.
Yet still, this
parched ground
calls out.

Thirsty for
relief, from
the drought.

We've watied
a hundred years -
still no rain -
it cries.

Seeing only
mirages, tainted
by desires -
ever fading.

The asprin
has run out.
Finished its
four hour course
and died.

There is no
saviour to numb
the pain.
Just the full
reality in
my head.

This cursed head.
Pounding with
each thought,
desperate
for release -
unable to
drown the pain.

There are
brief moments -
when the fog clears
and sunbeams
break through.

Those are the
moments before
I awake.
When I am
still dreaming -
of you -
and it's real.

The split seconds
before I
surface -
only to be
crushed by
what is now
just a memory.

Jerusalem's walls
have fallen.
Crumbled stones
creating rubble heaps,
that stand along
this deserted path.

Her greatness
has been destroyed.
In a moment.

A million tears
will not restore her.

Wail with your
voices oh children -
with timbrel and song.

For she won't return.
She only exists
in your dreams.

Despite many
lonely nights,
spent alone
on this couch.

I am still scared
of the dark,
and the monsters
under the stairs.

Of noises
in the night.
And unknown
places - they
haunt me.

Most of all,
I am scared
that I will forget
all this.
Ths monsters
under the stairs.