Poetry – Page 4 – Lady on a Wire

Before all this

hollow shell of a man

waiting to be filled

with something

other than stillborn

memories

over 125 pages read

in one sitting

pages you didn’t

know i had

marked by love’s end

pages sliding

between my fingertips

an orchestra living in low notes

discovering a new season

learning the way

of loneliness, pain

mapped out in blueprints

from quiet spaces

orange and yellow

railroad earth

horizons fall with

delicate mathematic

equations

bits of you kept hidden

i’ve seen

you have more to give

from a heart of barbwire

unhinged doors

windows

souls of regression

invisible bones keep

standing

how bad does it hurt?

let’s hold hands to communion

to sunrises

walking into any or all things

blind

dreamscapes can sometimes

get caught in transgression

midnight raw antics

graveyard shifts

you may think

you are late in coming to this

but you have been here

the whole time

four decades looming

over balcony seats

the watchers studying

every move that’s made

but even then

it can still happen here

the moments that have never been

are possible to hold

but what hope awakens

when you are all alone?

don’t want this to be

the last days of us

but what i see

and all i know

is written in between

your double spaced

confession of an unlived life

you are not wrong

everything is fucked

it’s

all

FUCKED

everything is a suicide quest

because nothing like the sun

can be replaced

sway with the trees

in the dark like a fool

shed your skin

with dead spirits rising

trip to nowhere

but maybe somewhere

with me

i didn’t know you

before all this

and maybe i don’t know you now

and i’m ok with it

because i’m not afraid

to burn alongside you in the fire

Our Tiktok poetry series is now a book! This was an awesome poetry collaboration with Mike Zone and artist Paul Warren. Check out this poetry chaos, it’s pretty unique! You can find Razorville on Amazon at this link: https://a.co/d/5LGuUty

Razorville is a unique collaboration between poets Shannon Lynette “Poetry is a beautiful sickness” and Mike Zone “Poetry…painting with words, mass psychosis with a shotgun” along with fantastic visual contributions by UK artist Paul Warren. Poetry on a tight rope guided by razors going on a series of schizophrenic travels in the mind’s eye. A frenetic love-song? Masturbatory self revelry? What started off as poetic correspondence turned into a tiktok video series now see if fully presented as it was meant to be… Words and art collide in a delicate balance of worlds between worlds.

Published by Dumpster Fire Press

All the fucks you gave

they say you are what you eat

anxiety

bedridden nightmares

monsters in the closet

secrets that cling to your chest

somehow become

words that spill on dirty napkins

takes more than a sewing kit

to heal a fresh wound

mothballs hidden away

as a deterrent in your mind

because somethings are too hard

to swallow

we’ve all made mistakes

again and again

you stand up

brush the debris off

and keep going

nobody gets a prize

if they’re put on repeat

all

those

stupid

fucking

bad

decisions

ties keep getting crossed

but they need to be severed

new days come

night steals them for its own

all the fucks you gave

won’t be forgotten

but always come back

to haunt you

new pursuits kept tucked away

in your back pocket as a reminder

why you fell in the first place

reflection tactics run wild

so they don’t know

what’s beyond the wall

but some do understand

that nothing can save

a rotting garden

The Evening Shade

Smashing Hearts

spilled coffee

shapes the day

when your

surroundings are

made of noise

wanting to sit

this one out

to hide the

cuts and bruises

that dig deep

it’s ok to be empty

crushing the wild

with bitter tongue tied

revelations

makes you more human

from the inside

mixed messages

shot down in

crossfire extensions

just to bend to break

because you’re seen

wearing the crazy

on the scene

smashing hearts

to run the line that’s familiar

even if it’s not the right

place to catch your breath

stranded between

those who need to be saved

and the heart you keep

caged

bridges were built to last

for only a little while

because sometimes

they need to feel the sting

so you can save yourself

from deep center

purge the days that seems to

cling onto dead planets rising

and look what’s in front of you

there’s plenty of space

to unravel new shapes

How to build a poem so you’ll remember my name

hearts bleed secrets

cutting lines

living in circles

can make you blind

there have been hints

written in the sky

that are hard to read sometimes

worlds collided from there to here

on chance shaped by

background noise

and spilled ink

no gimmicks

no roadside flairs

nothing is what it ever was

chrome cities

shiny toy guns

fucked up love suicide missions

that was then, this is now

new abandon temples to hollow out

but not alone

the wanting to

hide behind raspberry bushes

and reshape the sun, with you

get drenched in syrup

from your smile

feed on energy

from burning planets

from words that escape our lips

that may not last forever

i don’t know what this all means

but time is never lost

when the nights are young

when sleepless hours

break walls made of glass

silence always reveals the truth

but i’m here to say out loud

maybe someday i can touch your face

and call you mine

Trash

he left

her a

bouquet of

pink roses

to say

thank you

for the pussy

but she

was hoping

for pancakes

with extra

strawberry syrup

this isn’t

a metaphor

she was

hoping for

breakfast

rather than

flowers that

have no

purpose other

than to

just wilt

and die

like the

promises

you never

kept

Something That Never Was

turning up the volume

to something that should

already be there

marked by a number

that shouldn’t hold you so tightly

by the throat

by love affair convictions

flowers full of poisoned pollen

all the “i’m sorry’s”

all the “i’ll do better until tomorrow’s”

hallmark cards telling bedded lies

and giving off sharp fingered gestures

no one cares about

scapegoat advances

one-way avenues

that part away from the center

locked cannon devices on standby

all the “forgive me’s”

all the “i didn’t mean it’s”

being shoved under the rug

hoping no ripples form

fuck your red paper hearts

left on my skin

you, choking on

your own caramelized

twisted truths

lips salty

setting traps to catch

white chocolate

virgin suicide girls

just so you can tell

them how much to bleed

in your burning bed

full of spit and fabricated storylines

all will eventually fade

in the background

soaking up anything left to steal

Category: Poetry

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