Lies We Weave

Tags

creative, Depression, free-form, Lies We Weave, Life, Philosophy, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

The lies we weave
Hang from the ceilings
Of the rooms
We dreamed up once
Upon a time
In nighttimes held in
Hands so large and warm
We never had to breathe,
They hold us there
Afraid to move or break
The cord that winds its
Silken thread
About our limbs
Until the will to step from corners
Dies and lies in silence
A shell bereft of care,
And still we spin
Draw in those who fly
Too close or
Cannot feel the risk
We show so plain
To believe the lies we say
As if they were anything but
The web we sleep within.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Animal

Tags

Alcohol, Animal, creative, Dependency, Depression, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Take a deep breath and hold it now

Going down and going under,

The dark won’t drown the animal

The cold won’t freeze us where we fall.

Reach your hands out in the darkness

Knees worn right down to the bone,

Cast your words out on the altar

Take your comfort in the silence.

Drink in the brown drink in the gold

Distractions from the howling dog,

All the things that never killed you

Only served to keep you here.

See the shadows portents looming

Climbing blindly in the stairwell,

Animal upon your shoulder

Inside your head won’t let you down.

Take a deep breath and hold it now.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Undone

Tags

Communication, creative, Depression, Insecurity, poems, poetry, Undone, verse, writing

I’ll carve marks into my skin

And hope that you can see

Trust the cold wind with my name

To show where I have been,

Throw my arms out open wide

Watch red skies turn to black

Cry lost flowers wilt and die

To show you what’s inside,

I’ll leave words upon the shelf

Beneath the dust they’ll die

Hear the voices on the breeze

Whisper someone else,

All the things I left undone

Freeze the hands as they spin

Then slip between the covers

And vanish with the sun.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Some Days

Tags

creative, Darkness, Depression, pain, poems, poetry, Some days, verse, writing

Some days

It is difficult just to lift 

My head

From the pillow;

Impossible to raise

My thoughts from the depths

In which they lie.

Some days

The strain to place one foot in front

Of the

Other aches hard;

Pain that sears like fire

Pain that leaves no scar

That you can see.

Some days

Each breath is like the very last

In bursts

Not short nor sweet;

Sucked in without my will

Chest that rises still

Then falls once more.

Some days

There are no words justs sounds that bleed

Behind

My hollow eyes;

Some days.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Never Quite This Warm

Tags

creative, Depression, Life, Never quite this warm, nostalgia, poems, poetry, verse, winter, writing

Wanted to feel seasons

Count colours in the sky,

The winters of the past

Were never quite this warm.

Wanted you to hold me

Feel snow upon our lips,

Beneath an icy moon

Kept warm against the cold.

Wanted to taste the night

Fresh kisses on my tongue,

Clean sun against our backs

As hand in hand we were.

Long days without an end

Wasted time never lost,

Each moment perfect, new

Eyes coloured in the sky.

Curled safe within the sheets

With arms and legs entwined,

You never looked so good

As naked in the dark.

And walking through our dreams

With feet that never ran,

The soundtrack of our days

Played sweetly in our heads.

Wanted to feel seasons

Count colours in the sky,

The winters of the past

Were never quite this warm.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Heart Out

Tags

creative, Depression, emotion, isolation, lyrics, poems, poetry, Rap, verse, writing

When words like fire,

Burn into my soul,

I lose myself,

Can’t seem to keep control,

Intentions hang,

From a gallows pole,

And love is blurred,

Eyes blackened by kohl.

 

When reasons fail,

Feelings pushed aside,

Leaves a bitter taste,

Where something died,

And all the things,

That we ever shared,

Broken shattered,

Like no-one cared.

 

Though it tears my heart out,

You know it tears my heart out,

Every day.

Yes it tears my heart out,

Nails it to an old tree,

For you to wear.

 

When shadows fall,

On the bleeding ground,

And voices scream,

Without a sound,

And days all merge,

An unholy night,

The black dog howls,

Drowns out the light.

 

When silence rings,

Like a broken bell,

And four walls hold you,

Like a cell,

And all the things,

That you ever said,

Come back to life,

Inside your head.

 

Though it tears my heart out,

You know it tears my heart out,

Every day.

Yes it tears my heart out,

Nails it to an old tree,

For you to wear.

 

When the ghosts you thought,

You’d lain to rest,

Grow stronger now,

Within your chest,

And the visions that,

You thought were dead,

Echo louder now,

Inside your head.

 

When words like fire,

Leave a bitter track,

There’s no way out,

And no way back,

And all the time,

We’d tried to change,

There’s no chance now,

To rearrange.

 

Though it tears my heart out,

You know it tears my heart out,

Every day.

Yes it tears my heart out,

Nails it to an old tree,

For you to wear.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

The Road

Tags

Depression, dream, isolation, Journey, Life, poems, poetry, Road, thoughts, verse, writing

The car stops

The middle of the road

Deserted, quiet

A hundred miles from home

Lights flash

Blinking out a warning –

Should I be here

Or still at home,

Still in bed

The dreamscapes spreading

Like melted butter

Or redemption’s promise?

Still blinking

Yellow, orange, red

And what was it that

I came here for?

A change

A retrospect?

A reason tattooed

On life-worn skin?

A number on a page

In a book

On a shelf

Of some forgotten library

In some forsaken town

Where you leave your shoes

And your belt

At the gate

And listen as

The doors close in?

Engine silent

Stills the night

And chills the tremors

As they sleep

The cub-fox whimper

Disappearing

Swallowed by its den

And isolation’s silence

Slices

Grid marks in the night

That lead to neither

Here nor there

But feast upon

The stars,

And cat’s eyes fade

From memory

And power’s whimpered

Gasp

But dreams return

Assassin ghosts

Their fangs and claws

Exposed,

And was it this

I came here for

To drown in silent words?

Or find myself

Upon a road

That disappeared from view?

And all these signs

That I once saw

Flooding into view

Did they sprout

From idle hands

To lead me from

A home?

And was that

In the distance

Another car like mine

With tail lights dying

With the stars

In the middle of

The road?

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

What Use Are My Words?

Tags

Communication, conflict, creative, Creative writing, Depression, faith, history, Inequality, Life, Love, poems, poetry, politics, Principles, Progress, religion, Truth, verse, war, Words, writing

What use are my words

If the shells still fall

From black-heart open skies

And bombs still separate limb

From torso

On a whim?

If lover’s nights are torn asunder

Each phrase of love declared

And punctuated by the rifle’s kiss

As bullets fly through skies

To deafen out the

Infant’s cries?

If families fractured fall apart

Their bodies as their homes

And stuffed in ragged bags

They walk on paths anew

Hopes and lives askew?

 

What use are my words

If every judgement still

Depends on colour, race or creed

And not on who we are

Those who act so blind

Injustice our own kind?

If passion is fuelled by hatred

And shouted from the stands

Evolution’s backward stare

Feet that stomp and pound

Like we never left the ground?

If all that we can show

Is intolerance and hate

To mask the failings in ourselves

To stick within our clan

And say this is the Plan?

 

What use are my words

If all that we believe

Serves not to heal but pull apart –

Words lost behind the rhetoric –

And sets us off to goad

The wrong way down the road?

If our deities stand toe to toe

As we become the baying throng

Applauding every blow

Forgetting that it’s all a game

And they are all the same?

If faith is lost behind the mask

And we think ourselves the show

Where Glory resides in riches

And ceremony makes us tall

Hidden safe behind our wall?

 

What use are my words

If those who shout the loudest –

The basest of our kind –

Earn mandate over all of us

To wield the sharpened sword

And cut the final cord?

If none of us is equal

And power comes through privilege

Whilst on green fields they scheme

To hold on to the wealth

Through division and through stealth?

If birth outweighs our merits

When change is just a word

And nothing brings a greater good

As islands we shall ever stay

To never see a brighter day?

 

What use are my words?

 

Why Would You Know?

Tags

creative, Depression, faith, Misunderstanding, poems, poetry, Signs, verse, writing

What did it mean

And who else was there

When you passed me

Slowly on the stair?

What do I do

With all that I know

Words that you said

That lie with me low?

Who did I see

Or was it a dream

As you glide past

In futures unseen?

How did I fall

How far could I go

Smile on your face

But why would you know?

Two Worlds

Tags

age, creative, Depression, hope, inspiration, Love, poems, poetry, Truth, verse, writing

There are two worlds

Inside my head;

One worn weary

Through the spinning

Of millennia

Gyrating ceaseless

And out of control;

The other,

New born as you stepped

Into my view,

Sings with the sweetest

Of melodies

A tune that no Earthly hand

Could pen,

Sets spark to the tinder

That lay for time unending

Dormant like poppy seeds

Awaiting the stirring

Of my soil-soul,

Now alive

And an ancient Sun

Rises with my smile,

A joy that cannot be

Extinguished or defeated,

A joy that brings new meaning

To every moment

Each stretching sinew

Each fleeting thought,

A joy that my deepest words

Could not come close to speaking,

So I shall breathe

My other world

A world in which

To be.