Nick's Poetry

the sky was dark
something like my heart
not so unlike the image
not so unlike the image
in my mind

my dreams were clouded
something like my soul
so unlike the image
so unlike the image
before me

the dying figure
blood running down the hill
blood that is forgiving
blood that is forgiving
cleansing me

how can I be
how can I be
made clean

I traded tears of sorrow
for His holy tears of pain
and with His sacrifice
lost blood was gain

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I can't stand what she is wearing
she must have no sense of fashion;
or is colour blind, texture blind, numb

I accuse her of comatose,
but she is smiling.
Maybe she is unconscious
but it's better than my masquerade.

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I remember the dreams you once had
and I remember the vision you once dared
I remember those things, you once cared

princess walking with your head held low
princess you must know something I don't know

wearing black over her head
face is white like she were dead
ghosts don't visit anymore
what have they taken?

like a desert flower after the rain -
so beautiful and young and so afraid
left under the burning sun
forced to trade innocence to be strong
created just to wither
created just to die

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it's a complex thing
this contemplative house

we sit around and think and write

and hide behind caffeine

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early in the morning
arms outstretched
eyes turned in
eyes closed

early in the wisdom
arms out stretched
time for a friend
beginning of the end

claustrophobic
hold me
far away
not too close now
can't you see them coming?
the walls are closing

early in the morning
memories spread
heart locked in
heart closed

have seen fear
love is hard
broken, stolen
cannot try again

claustrophobic
hold me
far away
not too close now
can't you see them coming?
the walls are closing

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darkness engulfing the family
harnessing the children
and contorting their minds
he is breaking again

there goes that rattling
at the door, silencing every whisper
trying each to fall asleep
hoping their door won't be the next
"daddy has been drinking again..."

he worked toiled slaved
with the pen o'er the page
struggling to make a brain child
of the tear stained parchment
-accenting with borders;
leaves, golden crowns, and scepters:
he strived to make beauty

tears of agony caressed the note
now elegant and hung
hung with a blood stained blade
above the mantle ever reading
"my beloved, dearest John"

twisted, bent over
straining to uphold
the balance

never giving any
reason to suspect
the broken heart

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saddened eyes make no dreams;
they pose questions, break apart at the seams;
deep, empty, crying out within
as a soul detaching heartstrings

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when diamonds fall
from your eyes, shattering
on the floor
my heart is broken
and my world spirals down
falling to a place of utter desperation
a place of weakness

I watch
from down there, so broken
in the darkness
cold
waiting for you to light your smile again

like a chilled silken blanket
wrapped around me elegantly,
penetrating the very essence of my being
caressing my hands, my face, my body
sweeping me to a surreal world of qualm
carrying the angel dust,
scattering, fluttering
wiping the landscape clean
-left white and pure

there were a lot of tears
too much else I can remember
their hands reaching out
to feel us

theirs were hurting children
bleeding from their finger nails
tearing slivers from the doors
they were hungry, so lonely

sometimes I wish they could all slip away to eternal sleep
sometimes I wish they could all fight back
sometimes I wish for the moon,
wish they could all go home soon

Angels, keep watch
and take them home
guard their hearts
don't let them become cold
sometimes I wish for the moon

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lie down
sleep it over

forget, release -
silence

clenching a bouquet of roses
waiting till the door closes -
engine starts, he drives away

standing on the door step
hair blowing in the wind -
tears start, smile fades away

lie down
sleep it over

forget, release -
silence

lonely, waiting -
sober

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you came with love abounding
wrapped your arms around my pain
showed me everything was good
and took the rest away

if you were merely human
the whole plan would have failed
instead you came in perfect, clean
and made up for my shame

you saved my heart from breaking
and you showed me how to love
cleaned up the mess I was making
and saved me from myself

through you
in your whole again

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pen on paper
he was the poet
she the feather
in his hand
he was inspired

carved her face
her name
each feature
with great care,
his heart outpouring

like a harp
his heartstrings played
at the mercy
of her hands
-she gave him beauty

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