Malakai

 

seals and stone faces

The seal is broken. The sun burst through
the dry wax covering my glass eyes.
October air cleaned yesterdays gravel
from my lungs so I could breathe again.
Words that left me hanging on a moment
rose as an army of sweat on my back
with the realization that the puppetmaster
gave up, cutting the strings that made
me whole, leaving my fallen form
for nature to swallow. The light
is harsher now, and life
doesn't taste as strong as it once did.
Hello dreamer, your orders are to assimilate
for the greater good, to drag life
through your pages once more.
I tried to speak, and for my insolence
they sewed my mind shut with steel barbs
I wasn't supposed to grow out of.
I am your anti-man, dreaming to dream
and spitting in the face
of what you were told is real.
I am home again with the open skies.
Lead me to your next salvation,
seal me in stone.

 

procession [marching flashbacks]

I stand outside khaki brick walls
contemplating my reliance of the
faith that lives on their inner
side. Watching the slowly marching
procession in black, lining
themselves forward stepping in
tune with their tears. My own eyes
gripped tight as I cross the
threshold, bringing the bittersweet
taste of the death of love fresh
into my lungs, flooding their
passages with the shock of every
previous attempt of my many days
spent inside these parlors.

Inviting the feel of your eyes
that locked sunlight in ocean
blue. Bringing the memorabilia
that makes me stagger, sweating
through a system still unhealed
from the last gaze, the one
that couldn't hold the light any
longer.

The hands of my mind reach for
another you, one who died proud
in life’s dusted years with a head
of white and a face showing heritage
never to be forgotten by any who
saw it. Warrior chief with stories
still intact to be passed along
for many generations beyond my own.

Fading within, now for you, whom
I called mother, father, the special
teacher. Laying silent with praying
hands that wrap your faith around
them, even in death. Hands that
could cure any illness and warm
a heart with one touch.

Bring me back.....bring them back
from the abyss too inviting, stop
my hands from shaking away another
recollection. For my peace, let
these tired walls that capture
sorrow fall. Shatter through
the outside air of spring to
stop my lungs from flooding in
this mourning.

 

snapshot

moments
forgotten
by sages
still hold
reflections
captive
unto eyes
strained open

 

sniper

Nature is his element
Accuracy his pride
Patiently he will wait
Time on his side
When he pulls the trigger
Eagle eye and iron will
You won't see it coming
One shot...one kill

 

the dog strikes

Black Dog rages on the stereo
Putting my mind at ease
The music moves to release me
To stop my enemy, thought
No chorus for repetition
Changing constantly as my life
Free me from these bonds
Chains from another time
Of another freedom all impure
Take this pen of constant reprise
Shake my foundations with bass
Shape my mistaken identity
Into sheer bliss unconvinced
As the beat throbs unrelenting
Through my vessels always
Timed with the ancient rhythm
My ears bleed with release

 

[un] settling

I
shift gears
unceremoniously
while you
stand
slack-jawed
unable
to understand
why the dust
refuses to settle
love
is not
based on sight
hearts decide
what eyes cannot
and particles
of truth
will float
forever free
no matter
your perfect vision
clouded
with my mind

 

yesterday

I walk into a scent as familiar
as yesterday, as strong as black
coffee and twice as hot. Wrapped
in this still unwashed shirt that
I wore on the last meeting, the
memories bleed through the fabric
and into my skin. Tattooing my
innermost workings with the needle
of time...time that does not heal.
Minutes that will not wrap me in
the comfort of their passing and
seconds that refuse to wipe the
tears away. My eyes lie to me
with visions of retrospect and
unconscious dilations seeking
a hand to caress. Peel back
the skin and taste how far I
can fall, know from the blood
what makes me fragile. Tell me,
where were you standing when I
needed you most, when the clocks
inside my mind stopped to take in
this scent, tell me, where were you...
yesterday.



malakai
     Antibiographical man. I am 26 years of age, living comfortably in Pontiac, Illinois. Male by the definition of anatomy, but slinking past the stereotypes all the same. This is a collection of a life behind jaded eyes, poetry that every man, woman, and child can feel and relate to. Take a step into the shadows and follow the breeze at your back, stepping always toward the light. Blink with me.


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