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My first fubar blog entry! I'll use this blog to share some of my poetry with my fubar peeps. To start, let's do 'The House of Poison and Smoke'- I performed this one on a radio show http://youtu.be/pcwXo1ODnI0 and it's one of my favs. If you're a fellow poet, comment, like me, send me a glass of wine, show me love. Share poems with me at my site poetbryanpaul.com, if you wanna too.
THE HOUSE OF POISON AND SMOKE
The other night in the park,
I sat amongst shadows,
Alone-empty in the dark,
And I would have chose,
A house of poison and smoke,
Over lonely thought,
Bottling tears as I choke,
Inner battles fought.
Finding myself lone again,
Had to leave-to go,
To let those hurtful thoughts drain,
I’d descend below,
Underground to meet the crowd,
with poison and smoke,
under the chill of a shroud,
as I breathe, I choke.
The ghost flies above,
It flew from its host,
As a free white dove,
Now hovers the ghost.
You may wonder, do I speak,
Of heaven and hell?
Of the house I say is bleak,
And skies which to dwell?
I speak only of shadows,
Of which make me whole,
One represents my sad woes,
The other-my soul.
A figure stalled in his place,
I stay like a stone,
Thoughts of a beautiful face,
She remains unknown,
And she is not beside me,
Though I dream while I’m dormant,
Part of me’s gone free,
The other thrives in torment.
A white dove released,
And who with me flies,
above the deceased
-in the clean air skies?
I remain in toxic haze,
Swallow down a drought,
At the dead end of the maze,
I linger about,
With ghost above hovering,
Both my halves alone,
Want for what a lover’d bring,
To warm my chill’d bones.
I would cry out to be heard,
But I will not try,
I can think of not a word,
My mouth has gone dry,
From the poison and the smoke,
In the house that’s bleak,
And bottled tears that I choke,
prevented to speak.
Where now is the ghost,
Of my conscious soul?
-flew back to it’s host
so I can be whole.
*
