Sell Me to the Crows

Tags

creative, Crows, death, faith, Freedom, Mountain, poems, poetry, thoughts, verse, writing

I’ve walked these streets too long at night,

Know every broken turn,

And when I vanish in the light,

I do not feel it burn.

I’ve sat upon the table’s head,

And humbly served its guest,

I’ve listened to the words you said,

Responded to the jest.

I’ve followed you along your path,

And tried to guide you too,

My hands wrapped tight around your snath,

To carve a way askew.

I’ve made the choices that you feared,

Torn down the bloodied wall,

Then hid behind the paper scared,

Just waiting for the fall.

So lead me to the mountain high,

And sell me to the crows,

So I at last can see the sky,

And know what no-one knows.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

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A Thousand Miles

Tags

A Thousand Miles, creative, poems, poetry, verse, writing

One thousand miles

One last roll

Wounded heart.

One final word

Lonely sound

Falling slow.

With tongues wrapped round the distances

Faces floating in the clouds,

We lick ourselves our wounds to heal

Turn our faces to the wind.

One frozen hour

One more lost

Broken time.

A hundred years

Shattered days

Nothing new.

With hope wrapped up and gift-tag tied

Boxed beneath a fallen tree,

We sit expectant like a child

Turn our faces from the dark.

One thousand miles

One more run

Gone to ground.

A thousand lies

Hand in hand

Come undone.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Silver Bullets

Tags

Communication, creative, Dance, Deception, poems, poetry, Silver bullets, verse, writing, youth

We danced around our drinks

Like they were poisoned cups,

Dodging silver bullets

Which looked to cut us down,

Surviving each day

The best that we could,

Never talking of the ghosts

That haunted every corner,

The ghosts that lived inside

And made our shadows long,

We held our smiles through the day

Until our anger tore the dark,

The shadows now the best of us

The tears we locked away,

And still we dance

Our shapes against the sky,

As if the truth will fade

And we will be unscathed,

Dodging silver bullets

We keep within our hearts.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Little Victories

Tags

creative, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Such insignificant specks

On a tiny rock

Lost in time,

The edges of a space

Incomprehensible to all,

And yet how we cling

With unyielding grip

To our little victories:

Whose was the book,

Who wrote the word.

Who owned the sand,

Whose was the voice.

And who had you

In the dark.

We made our machines

To number our days

Each hour, each minute and less,

And hoped they would freeze

And hold us all there

In the moment we called our own,

We built us a place

To which to ascend

And find all our victories again,

But as dust on the wind

It was only a dream

Forgotten, as fleeting as breath,

With open-hand then

No reason to hold

Each moment a moment for one,

We let go the fear

Immortality’s hope

Built on victories so frail and

So small.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Green Swallows Me

Tags

creative, Desire, Journeys, loss, Love, lyric, poems, poetry, Sailing, Search, verse, writing

With the wind at our backs,

And hope in our sails,

We left these dead shores,

To mariner’s tales.

And under your watch,

We found ourselves led,

From cold weathered deck,

To comfort of bed.

 

I charted each course,

And marked every night,

Kept count of those lost,

Or stricken by blight.

I conquered the tides,

Or so it did seem,

Kept buried the fears,

Held fast to the dream.

 

And this ship will go down,

And all hands will be lost,

And the blind will still swim,

As the green swallows me,

‘cause I never knew when,

To let go.

 

We welcomed each shore,

Set foot on the sand,

And offered our gifts,

With quivering hand.

Whilst still in our ear,

The whispering wave,

Kept pulling us back,

This wasn’t our grave.

 

I clung to my map,

With bullish resolve,

As each new horizon,

Began to dissolve,

I saw myself then,

A mast that won’t bend,

A rudderless ship,

On a course that never ends.

 

And this ship will go down,

And all hands will be lost,

And the blind will still swim,

As the green swallows me,

‘cause I never knew when,

To let go.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Arm Around Your Waist

Tags

Control, creative, Fear, Love, Obsession, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Arm around your waist

Snakes like a disease

Fingers seeking flesh like clean air

And welcomed like a cure

Love’s touch draws patterns in the sky

Dances like the pure

Swirls curls with kissing clouds

And gathers in the shadows

Holds them close love’s cherished thoughts

Carves out cliffs with initialed tags

Brings the ancient to their knees

And boughs will bend to touch the ground

Before love’s floating fire

And all of this

The sweetest curse

A time that lasts for such

A fleeting eternity

Yet burns a hole that will not heal

Above our heads

Beneath our feet

An arm around your waist.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Walk Away

Tags

creative, death, Ghosts, Longing, loss, Love, poems, poetry, verse, Walk away, writing

And when you leave

Don’t turn around

Or leave the door ajar,

Just walk away

Without a smile

Don’t look me in the eye.

I’ll strip away

The years between

And hold them in my hands,

The days we stole

Without a word

And meaning in a glance.

I’ll carve them all

Into my skin

The hours that we shared,

The joke we knew

Would always end

When laughter turned to tears.

So when you go

Don’t blow a kiss

To ease you on your way,

Just walk away

I’ll watch you leave

Through gently drowning eyes.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

They Said

Tags

Control, creative, faith, Lies, poems, poetry, politics, Promises, They Said, Truth, verse, writing

They said the Sun would always rise,

The clouds would always clear,

They said the light would always burn,

Beneath the wall of tears.

They said that this was all a game,

The rules we never learned,

They said that they would hold our hands,

But never said they’d burn.

They said that we would have our day,

That waiting always paid,

They said that all of this was ours,

Behind their backs the blade.

They said that if we held out nerve,

The steel in our backs,

They said that if we learned to bend,

Our spines would never crack.

They said that when we heard the bell,

We’d know just how to act,

They said that when it came to this,

They’d never break the pact.

They said that time would be our friend,

And shield us from our fears,

They said the Sun would always rise,

And the clouds would always clear.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Too Much to Lose

Tags

creative, Fear, loss, lyric, poems, poetry, Premonition, verse, writing

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Can’t leave you now

And let you bruise,

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Don’t want to fall

Or have to choose.

 

Waves come,

Crashing through the walls

I built in sleep,

Feel the tremors rise

I cannot close,

My eyes.

 

At night,

Even though I feel you

Close to me,

The nightmares take control

I cannot shake,

Them free.

 

Eyes wide,

But I can’t see a way

To end this fear,

Which burns within my chest

I cannot still

The beat.

 

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Can’t leave you now

And let you bruise,

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Don’t want to fall

Or have to choose.

 

Sometimes,

Even when I talk

Myself to sleep,

The demons still have hold

I cannot talk,

Them down.

 

Would I,

Give all that I know

To choose the time,

To open up the door

When I had served,

My time?

 

Or would I,

Close my eyes once more

In silent prayer,

To gods I cannot trust

To beg to keep,

Me here?

 

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Can’t leave you now

And let you bruise,

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Don’t want to fall

Or have to choose.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Afraid

Tags

Afraid, Change, creative, Fear, loss, poems, poetry, Truth, writing

Afraid

Of the night

The truths that hide in the shadows;

Of the day

And the light that reveals the flaws.

Afraid

Of the sounds

Which fill the rooms with laughter and tears;

Of the silence

And the demons which it feeds.

Afraid

Of the crowd

The sense of estrangement which grows;

Of the solitude

Which settles like an unfriendly ghost.

Afraid

Of inertia

Trapped in the mire of eternity;

Of change

And the loss of the ground beneath.

Afraid

Of the page

Its whiteness screaming in my ear;

Of the words

That give away far too much.

Afraid

Of death

And leaving so much left undone;

Of life

And all the doors left unopened.

Afraid.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019