Jul 29
Zane Telesford's picture

It’s Ok to be Sad


The dusk comes for all of us,
Do not bother running, 
Because it will take you regardless, 
And the best things do happen in the dark

Roam calmly through the shadow,
Feel your way around the night sky,
And surely you will find another one, 
Lost in the haze of their own heartache

Find their hand, and hold it in yours,
Give them a squeeze, 
Run your thumb along the backside of their palm,
Draw them into willing embrace and finally,
Without fail, without hesitation,
The two of you will emit a glow potent enough to pierce the black

Weep, fall to your knees
Accept the darkness that eats away at your heart,
For we are all one in our sorrow, 
And our grief is universal.
 
May 23
Zane Telesford's picture

Do or Die

"This is your last chance". 

That's what I thought to myself, as I watched him grab his things to leave for the final time. Words shivered at the back of my throat, constricting me, while I waited with bated breath for them to come out. They never did. They were suffocated before they could even reach the tip of my tongue. I said nothing as he pushed past me without so much as a glance. I said nothing as he opened the front door. I said nothing as he got in his car. Only once he had pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street did a single sound escape my lips. A scream. The type of scream that hurts. The type of scream so loud and persistent eventually your ears just tune it out.

"This is your last chance".
May 23
poem 1 comment challenge: General
Zane Telesford's picture

Eris

Battlefield

Embers rise off of burning corpses,

And fall to the earth as cold, lifeless ash.

Eye sockets lay empty, barren.

Stygian craters holding only mangled grey brain matter.

Soldiers march on legs blown off by grenades,

Cradling their guns in arms with pieces of bone peeking through the skin.

As they drag themselves back to their encampments,

The dead become fertilizer,

Blood runs as water,

Cultivating rage and vengeance,

Preparing the reddened soil for the next battle.

Yes, the war will go on.

Even when countless are left with broken bodies,

And more with broken minds,

Death will continue to bloom on the battlefield,

Perverting the air with its sickeningly sweet scent.