Visions of a backlit childhood
Of golden-haired halos and shadowed eyes
Slideshow in flashes of painful yesterdays
For those still unfamiliar
Longing to hold the child as he cries
Those tears cannot fall in confusion's void
And fear darkens all roads 'can be seen
Still here, in their nightmare,
Like it was my own
Is a truth told in smiles and jellybeans
Long since gone away

a boy stands chained to a wall
silent words left unspoken line his lips
but,
Angels never stay silent
he's an angel among the shadowed souls
who save shattered spirits
they silently stand by
       repairing cracks that no one ever sees
                                         not even you
look around you...
                         Don't you see them?

Mother Earth and Father Sky
Sitting closely as I sing
Flying gracefully in the night
As I drift upon their wings
Slow and sweet, lovely tunes
Frolic through the sounds
Looking upon the blissful moon
As I float safely to the ground
Losing moments in the heat
As the night comes to a holt
And the moon turns to defeat
So the sun can spark a volt
Shining softly through the sounds
That the chorus makes
Of defenseless little clouds
Feeling pain they cannot take
The trees will slowly turn to ash
As the grass becomes a blaze
Melting into the dusty hash
So the world becomes a haze
Mother Earth and Father Sky
Protect me for I am trapped
In between these pins and burns
Slipping from your grasp
Mother you cannot save me
Now that the world is cold and still
Father can't come hold me
I am the one that makes him shrill
I know you're busy with this world
I'll be a part of it one day
But inside my body's swirled
For these words are brash, dare I say
That now I'm floating in your air
The breeze linked to my heart
Close you're eyes, no need to stare
For now I am a part
Of this world you know so well
Quiet and serene
Nature turns and dare i tell
It was no home for me

                                        Alysia Marie 2015 ©

Now that you are gone
they surely
will find you
as good as you
know you deserve
on Earth.

Why do you mock me
here in my own space?
This is my home
to desecrate.
Had I known you were
here as well I might
take my chances
to venerate.

I want to be alone,
lonely and lost.
I want to be
the god that I ought.
Whatever it takes,
however I find
I may as well
buckle up,
because I'm ******
either way.

Now that you are gone
they surely
will find you
as good as you
know you deserve
on Earth.

and so
we're alone in a world full of people?

just this pen.
just this paper.
one on one.

it's an escape.
therapeutic and sublime was how it felt.
a chance to put our thoughts down..
put our foot down..
"chill out", a voice behind the ear.
just let everything flow out.. spill out..

escape or seclusion, pen and paper
but not isolation.
for some reason, ‘these thoughts, can they be a gateway...?
to connect through others.'

we hear people's thoughts, personalities, various angles and perspectives, religion, art, arguments, controversies, and social engineering..
so many subjects and topics, spraying at many targets in the hopes for one that might ever latch on, can we ever click on?

so this was the escape.
let us bleed ink and we succumb to slowly die.
as the life proceeding will be one word less,
until the very last breath.

we share eachother our mind, body, spirit, soul to one another.
our sanity, our graciousness,
our wrath but also our peace into love and strong relationships.
the incendiary lava that flows and burns within,
can be frozen and lifeless tranquility tomorrow...

but then after all the chaos
once we see for ourselves, and we had a chance to walk and walk.
and everything just... settles.
past this tangible life onward to a spiritual existence,
just remember to stick together..

because we're all in this together..

They say the sea
is a place for freedom,
for the strong willed
and the liberal spirits.
They say the country
is a place for humility,
for the hard workers
and the level headed.
They say the forest
is a place for mystery,
for the subtle explorers
and the quietly brave.
But the sting of the salt,
the pull of the grass,
the shade of the trees,
they haunt me so:
for there is only one place
I could ever belong,
and those arms, that heart,
have long since departed.
                                                   tsk

now those eidolic dread horses have scarred your slumber, passed 9, passed 10,  and even your furniture has silent, open mouthed, nightmares over the too soon dead, dead school friends who never ended their crossings, and see, see, she stoops, in shroud  ghastly knelt as in prayer, but you can’t see, see through the tricks  of light that scream “she is there”, your crumpling chest  boiling as the bones in your legs subside while those, without body,  cross the empty room, no need to surmise that which lies bereft and restless may yet have something to say and you, you are the luckless soul who lives upon their byway and now,  now the voices, the voices start, those grody sounds, that won’t stop, stop your heart, beneath the floor, within the walls, the precedent for dull footfalls calling, calling to us one by one with no clear sight of saint or villain, a spectral round of hide and seek, directed by a floorboards creak, each time we search there’s nothing, nothing there, but of this guest we’re so aware, who was first, it or us, we can’t be sure, sure it wasn’t brought  from distant shores, for it never raised its head or voice before, before that gift from land of Vlad was carried over our threshold and ushered in something, something cold,  the bearer of an ancient fear, something as of yet unclear, or are we in thrall of phantoms more explainable  


This is a combination and refinement of what were two separate poems, previously published, to make by far a more satisfying whole. I believe it more convincingly captures some of the fear and panic I was trying to convey and should be read in a breathless manner as if you were living in a world that was entirely scripted by Samuel Beckett

Do our loved ones
Once deceased return
to us in dreams?

When we walk in fields
with them
side by side
and chat , and smile, and laugh, and cry?

Is death hastily forgotten
like so many pebbles cast
in pools ever so deep?
And not thinking
the absurdity of their death
long past gone
paid by
our loved ones
that now talk to us?

Ooh what sweet dreams
are made of
that brings
us once again
to our beloved
once long past,
only to be awakened
in the morning
by unbearable
fleeting...
     ...heartbreaks