Stumbling Towards Madness

Stumbling towards madness
that’s what we do
when we find ourselves hurtling
to the past that we once knew
where everything hurt
and life was just a game
so we lose ourselves in lies
feeling nothing but shame

so we stumble along
hoping for the best
there’s a finish line somewhere
if we simply follow the rest
there’s no need to worry
there’s no need to try
so we stumble towards this madness
and believe lie after lie

till the day we wake up
to find no one there
just a barren wasteland
what an endless nightmare
where everyone follows blindly
till the end of the unseen line
nothing but broken dreams
and we’ve run out of time

Reflection {A Haiku Trio}

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@Irablockphoto on Instagram

come april showers
puddles splashing at my feet
reflections abound

sunlight on buildings
rising with their barren trees
awaiting their leaves

against the blue skies
mirrored on grimy waters
tell me spring is here

halo

she draws all her women
facing ahead, seeing only what she sees
before her
maybe nothing, maybe everything
reminding her she’s got to get
somewhere

she draws them with halos
though they are far from saints
scarred and always alone
she draws them for she knows them
they all live
inside her soul

Seed Head

poet, don’t explain your poem to me
you’re ruining it for everyone
just as there are many interpretations of
the moon, as it is with the sun

let the reader enjoy your words
let them see it with their eyes
don’t explain, don’t say anymore
lest we see you through your thin disguise

a poem is like a dandelion seed head
blown into a thousand unknown directions
so many ways to see one’s truth
for there’s no fixed interpretation

so no matter what you wrote it for
let the reader decide
whatever they see through their own eyes
is how your poem in them shall reside

 

Image by Photomish Dan

Liz Madrid © 2015

Body of Lies

her body tells her things
she doesn’t want to know
so many lies uncovered
no matter where she goes

that she has to do this thing or that
just to fit right in
when it only takes her the farthest
from who she really is within

when every scar gets hidden
and every imperfection denied
her body never lies though
it uncovers every truth she tries to hide

and as her mind overrules her
and always undermines
her body tells her anyway
every single time

trust yourself, it says to her,
you know what to do
don’t listen to the naysayers
who’ve long forgotten their truth

it’s in your every heartbeat
and every word you say
it’s hidden behind your smiles
when you say, i’m okay

until the day you face the truth,
confront each self-fulfilling lie
your body will always tell its truth
even when you let its real beauty die

2015  © morrighansmuse

Old Books

sometimes I look through old books
for fragments of my past
an airline ticket maybe
something that was never meant to last

maybe half of an old greeting card
I’d cut to remind me of you
of the many ways you told me you loved me
and just how much I meant to you

or maybe a dried pink flower
picked up on a lonely walk
that day you said we would last forever
oh, how you assured me it wasn’t just talk

or maybe a short note
written on the back of a theater stub
‘sorry i can’t make it, babe, gotta work,’
just before everything we had blew up

so I close those old books forever
no point in dredging up the tears
not when my life turned out so much better
than the life I had with you all those years

 

Liz Madrid © 2015

Mine – 16

he yearns for her
like she were the spaces
between each breath,
knitting the air
with her smiles,
his heart in tune with her every sigh
and moan,
where there lie only desperation
and desire

Mine – 15

his kisses blaze a trail from her lips
to the base of her neck where her pulse throbs,
hard with longing for so much more,
his hands exploring, moving lower than it did
before

do you want me to stop? he asks just when she thinks
she can’t take any more.
do you want me to keep going
till you’ve reached the limits
of passion’s shores?

where your edges shall be smoothened,
and the raging of the waves calmed?
do you want me to keep on going,
my dove, and leave no stones
unturned?

 

Mine – 14

his hand traces
the scars on her skin
left there so long ago
a faint line here, followed
by another in a row
and there is no judgment
for the secrets
he knows

i see you, he tells her,
and though i’ll never know
the things that happened then
i hear them
i feel them –
each scar telling me
their story
from each beginning
to each end