A Poetry Collection of An Average Young Man - The Dark

A Poetry Collection of An Average Young Man - The Dark

A Poem by Kristian Wiseman
"

Darkness comes for all. The summer of 2017 was blank for me. I was in the shadows non-stop. I hope you may be able to appreciate my words to the same extent that I do.

"
'I Am Toxin'
Winnie a sigh through your nose.

Thrust forward in frustration.

Amount your pain as anger.

Your eyes, they shift, roll,

Close.

And you called me a burden.


A burden!

Of all things I can be.

‘Be anything you want’, I’m told early.

But, quite frankly, it’s the last thing I want to be.

Without my will, it is forcibly.


I am child, friend, love,

Not burden.





'Boulders'

The doors

Are locked

The doors

Are locked!

I screamed.

Wailed.

I fall to my knees,

I’ve travelled for days,

For weeks,

For months!

No food for days,

Weeks,

Months!

I saw the drapes inside move faintly.


A note in the mailbox says:

“The key has been left where you began the journey.”


The key has been left where I began the journey?

I’m on my knees!

I will not return!

I’ve climbed hills!

I’ve swam rivers,

Marshes.

I’ve climbed boulders,

Carried the boulders!

Held the boulders

On my chest.

Not out of will,

You forced me to bring the boulders.

They were glued to my chest.


The key has been left where you began the journey,

But where did I begin?

I was on my knees.

I don’t remember the directions.

I skipped paths like climbing up ladders,

Slipped down the chutes of riptides,

Drowned, and pulled back to shore by angels.


And I’ve bled.

I bled, carrying the boulders,

I was bleeding on the boulders,

The boulders have tasted my blood!

They might as well be mine now!


I’m not returning for the key.

I’m leaving the boulders on the doorstep,

I’m looking for a door that is unlocked.

'The Climber/Dead Space'


Requesting her opinion, ideally recommendation.

I looked into her eyes, something I was practicing for weeks ahead of time.

Blue lotuses with black holes.

I see the pupils of her eyes.

Space.

Dark as ebony.

No matter.

No stars, galaxies to view,

Just me.

Floating along.

Hopelessly, frantically...

I return to Earth.

Hopelessness comes with me.

She is asking questions now.

I lose eye contact, I choke on my words.

I stumble and shuffle uncomfortably,

Glued to the wall,

Fish stuck to an ungreased pan.

I realize:

The cosmos exempt from anything;

It was hopelessness.


Weeks pass;

I meet another.

Her eyes are polished windows,

I see optimism, enthusiasm in her eyes,

Hazel with a tint of green.

Then I see the pupil.

She asks questions I have no answer to:

Ambitions, dreams, aspirations, theories,

Do I believe in fate or free will?

I am in the ocean of emptiness again.

I am trying to build stars and nebulas.

I move quickly, no patience for wasted effort.

If you Play God, you lose.


Days pass. I look in the mirror,

I have not shaved in days,

I can barely stand anything other than a smooth face.

In the fog of a reflection, I see the whites of my own eyes.

Snowcapped mountain, unclaimed land.

I see the top first, there are no poles or flags.

Now I see the full mountain.

It penetrates clouds, molests the commandments of the atmosphere.

Poor imbeciles who attempt to voyage it to the top taste revenge from mother atmosphere.

Their lungs are crushed by the air itself.

I see a climber three quarters of the way up.

“This mountain is not one for a man who is his own worst enemy,” a beggar once said.

The climber is a hopeless young man with no identification of what comes his way.

Wheezing is heard.

The snow makes each already dangerous step more treacherous.

The man looks up, and sees something close to nothing.

The oxygen tank on his back is but a burden,

More weight.

He realizes the climb is mission impossible.

He takes his first stumbles back down.

I see his face, finally;

The climber is me.

'I am Adversary'

I am Aries

Spot horns, ye run.

Run do I as well;

Alas, is but a trap!

I lose grip.


I am ewe.

See family.

Lose family.

Distress family.

I must protect children.

I do protect children.



I am Taurus.

Thine feel horn.

I feel thine flesh.

I feel thine sword.

I feel God’s earth.


I am calf.

I am fatted calf.

See family.

Protect ye child.

Can ye protect child?



I am Gemini.

Hear mine laugh.

Hear sister laugh.

See mine twin.

I see her fall.

I watch her fall.


I am twin.

I am Gemini.

See me fall.

Watch me fall.

See family.

Blood with family.




I am Cancer.

Feel mine pinch.

Lose thine shell.

Lose mine shell.

Soft under shell.


I am cancer.

Thy do not lose cancer.

Ye lose against cancer.

See family.

I defeat family.

Exterminate family.



I am Leo.

Hear mine roar.

See mine teeth.

I leap far; do not jump high.

I do not swim.


I am Lioness.

Husband hath fury.

No fury for husband.

The cubs.

Mine cubs.
See family.

I protect family.

I protect family.

Hear roar.



I am Virgo.

I am purity.

Hath no purity.

Expose thy purity.

See mine purity.


I am Mary.

See family.

He is my son.

He is God’s son,

Thy strip his life.

Return his life.




I am human.

You are human.

Steal my land.

Steal mine rights.

Take my possession.

Steal mine life.


Hear mine children.

See family.

Find love in family.

Ye steal family.

Ye steal family.

I am human.

Thy are human.

I believed thy as human.

'Pigsty'

Pigsty:

I hop the fence and join the bath.

I cover myself until my cheeks are brown and I can’t hear out my ears.

I feel these unknown textures against my skin,

Feel the bacteria complimenting my body,

And mimic their oinks.

Because sometimes in life,

You just want

To go home.


Come make bacon out of me;

End

My

Life.

An added bonus,

Poison your children.

Take my only friends;

The fatter the better.


Because cold, bloody eyes

Don’t cry tears.

‘The Wild Wolf Wears Wool’


A wild wolf wears wool.

He’s made it himself.
He sheared it,

Fleeced it, washed it,

Picked it, carded it,

Wove it, spun it,

Winded it, dyed it,

Washed it, and hung it to dry.

He darns the loose strands.


It is fantastically warm in the winter,

Put away in the summer.

It keeps him comfy,

Makes him feel at home everywhere.


Don’t get the wrong idea,

Were you mislead?

He doesn’t wear a sweater to a Christmas Party,

Itching and scratching for Saint Nick.

He doesn’t throw it over himself as red and yellow leaves hit concrete.

He doesn’t hold it in his closet, waiting frantically for the snowfall.

A wild wolf wears wool

And enters a sheep pen.

It all goes horribly wrong.






Final Words:


Knight.

© 2018 Kristian Wiseman


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Added on March 18, 2018
Last Updated on March 18, 2018
Tags: darkness, teen, life, experience, love, summer, creative, writing

Author

Kristian Wiseman
Kristian Wiseman

Canada



About
17 Year Old author in training with a love of literature and books that only came recently. I write as I please through topics that matter to me. My specialties are short stories, poetry, and occasion.. more..

Writing



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