Something like a diary

Something like a diary

A Poem by Kristallo

I didn't edit, or think about it, or let myself delete it. I started writing and hit "enter."

She was so unremarkably sad
In her little space by the sea.
Words never lived on her pages,
an infinity of music, whispering through the trees
the unsung melancholy of autumn, 
a ghost in the breeze

The constraints of time within her mind
a self-evolving disease
buzzing like a hive of xenophobic bees
she can't take the
screaming of a million dead ghosts and the
pain of a thousand years, a thousand love's lost and a 
thousand miles walked, just to find
she's just as far in as she'll ever be out
she's another casualty of infinite human selfishness
and it's all clamoring like these words are
these fingers clamor to solidify the abstract of my pain
to make it a little less heavy, i'm writing to you
no one
and i'm saying I die a little every 
single day
And it's such a shame
That the beauty in me, the sweetness, the electricity
all of it's wasting
away, and i'm nothing but fragility
Because love is the cruelest affection
and to my terror
and trepidation
I see more of my mother in my face
And my father in my pain
I can't take another day, swelling up like swine
swallowing the hurt and disdain
wine soaked in the rain
and listening to the infinity of music
the one place
I can be free. 

© 2016 Kristallo

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I love this, like the subconscious and conscious crashing together. I do understand as well ... about music and freedom. I have not been here for some time - I am slightly shocked that some of the best poets (basically all my friends!) are so under-read. Why is that? Years ago so many wonderful writers were read and appreciated. I think poetry might be dying as an art form, like a swamp of words with everyone and everything drowning. Ho hum, I so much hope you are happy my dearest. Much love always -


Posted 7 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on February 25, 2016
Last Updated on February 25, 2016



Denton, TX

I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn't say any other way - things I had no words for. Georgia O'Keeffe All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind. -Aristotle Th.. more..

Woke Woke

A Poem by Kristallo