Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Fear©
By Mical Edstrom

My heart henceforth shall be defeated, shattered
I shall be forever concealed
From your healing touch
From your love, I so fear

The walls so looming
Indestructible, the confines I loathe
Yet the binding is my own fear
An asphyxiating betroth

Intimate relations
Of love and hate
Destiny of fear and anger,
Loneliness claims my barren fate

Unyielding chains, my terror
Has tied me to an anchor in the sea
My gruesome nightmares
Bind me to ghosts, never to be free

Vacant of passion
My heart is so cold
A dilapidated shell
Of sorrowful remorse
I Hate Me©
By Mical Edstrom

'A voice of remorse shrieks in my ears
It whispers of self-hatred, the lonely years
It sighs breaths of disgust, my ceaseless fear
Contempt its self, detests me, thrives on my tears

It mocks and derides me, of it I shall never be rid
Coiling amidst my thoughts, self-loathing it bids
It is consuming, so selfish, loving forbid
It has caught up, wherever I’ve run or hid'
Truth in Love and Song©
By Mical Edstrom

For there is no lie
In the music
May the omnipotent song
Be my life, be my magic
When I am alone and searching
May wailing cellos be my refrain
As I watch and I long for you
May the thunderous ivories
Be my escape
May the nefarious tango
Be the cadence of my heart
Through the ecstasy and pain
As I run and I quaver,
Let the resonating strings be mine
Let the majestic harmonies
Be mine as I waver
May I dance to the tune
Of a thousand voices
And may I know the sound of verve
May I my life be a waltz
And a symphony of chaos
Untitled Poem©

I’ll never cry
For the salty ocean is mine
For the heart you’ve broken
Has befallen numb in time

The lead in my mouth
The dry swollen sob
Won’t escape me
So help me God

So my fingers will croon music
Out of that old grand’s keys
I’ll lose myself in the sigh of the song
A moment, so fleetingly free

I shall love the refrain
And on the water I’ll lie
Singing to the wind
An honest, lonesome cry

The petals of the sky
Will betroth me in peace
The ribbons of the rain
Will be my release

Shattered, I rest
My bellowing heart shall respite
And the beads of convalescence
Shall inflame me to heights

By Mical Edstrom

Thursday, November 19, 2009

No-I don't think your boxers are sexy...

No, no thankyou. I don't fancy a first-class view of your boxers.
Is what you do, who you are?
Are the thoughts in my mind, reflective of who I am?