Gypsy Princess – Chris Nelson

Tameless night – black
Wild as the dark
Alive on Buckingham carpet
Alert beneath an ivory moon
Sensing, sad sensuous
The spirit of silent age
Timeless spectre
Soft floating as night clouds
Touching gifting the aura
The sight beyond sky limits
Shrouding sweet senses
The spirit of a sensual age.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Embrace – Chris Nelson

He follows you, silent
Gliding, dark-cloaked, invisible
As whispering eddies in the night.
Through streets shrouded
In simple shadows, and light
As pallid as the Sun in winter
Kissed skies.
Across cobble and path,
Through doorways abandoned
As cold as hoar-frost mornings
Creeping tentacles brushing
A shoulder of flame.
In ancient corners, windowless
Led deep within a labyrinth moon,
A face forms shapes melts
Features upon your flesh,
A windless sea carries call to home
Acceptance sighs to welcome.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Here in the Heat – Chris Nelson

Here in the heat

All bodies are lost

No room for the vain

No fear anymore,

Down on the floor

In the diamonds and dust

Distorted truths fail

And lies bear their soul,

Space counts the distance

Marked by your hours

No time for the chosen

Who drown in the sand,

Rise like a phoenix

To burn in the Sun

I’ve bathed in your tears

Can’t feel any more,

Chance now to move

Take control again

To shed all the secrets

Like aging dead skin,

Dance in the heat

No care for the days

Which burn into one

No fear anymore,

Dance in the heat

All bodies are lost

No room for the truth

Can’t feel anymore.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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A Ghost to Haunt – Chris Nelson

I am the name you never said,

The one who slips from bed to bed,

The favoured book you never read,

A constant doubt within your head.

 

I am the cross upon your door,

The creeping root beneath the floor,

The tortured dress you never wore,

An icy vein that will not thaw.

 

I am the word you never spoke,

The mirror’s face behind its smoke,

The frozen time behind night’s cloak,

A laugh too late to catch the joke.

 

I am the time you never planned,

The days that slipped out of your hand,

The rusted icon on the stand,

An effigy on broken land.

 

I am the cry at dead of night,

The splintered dream lost in mid-flight,

The falling bird that knows its plight,

A final line you could not write.

 

I am the bridge you could not cross,

The path below grown old with moss,

The road behind grown cold with loss,

An ancient sign now lost its gloss.

 

I am the one you’d never court,

The fated friend you never sought,

The thief of time I’ll leave you naught,

A ghost to haunt your every thought.

 

I am the name you never said,

The one that fills your heart with dread,

The name in everything you read,

A ghost to haunt the days ahead.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Nothing Changed – Chris Nelson

Nothing really changed at all,

The mark still stayed upon the wall,

And as we looked for something new,

Behind our backs it grew and grew.

Though we thought that we’d moved on,

The chains that held us were not gone,

And darkness clouded all our arts,

And spread its blackness through our hearts.

Things we thought that we had tamed,

Clung to our shadows hurting, maimed,

To heal themselves when night took hold,

Our sweetest dreams to then enfold.

In the light it brought its gloom,

In every corner, every room,

The stain it grew with fitful glee,

To pin us here and make us see.

Every footstep brought us here,

But never freed us from our fear,

Hung heavy over every head,

And coloured every word we said.

Dreamed we’d come so very far,

Our feet stuck fast in blackened tar,

We felt we had so much to prove,

Only to find we couldn’t move.

And nothing really changed at all,

The mark still stayed upon the wall,

And as we looked for something new,

Behind our backs it ever grew.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Dreams Fall Down – Chris Nelson

Dreams fall down like shadows slow

Can’t stop them now, can’t even try,

I feel them shroud me like a curse

Can’t see behind a clouded eye.

 

These tremors take my sweated hand

Can’t shake them off, can’t cut them loose,

I feel them chill my aching bones

Can’t rid myself, a waiting noose.

 

They drag me through mistakes I’ve made

Can’t justify, or reason why,

They show me futures drowned in pain

Can’t close my ears to other’s sighs.

 

Devils dance and duel within

Can’t stop the tune, can’t still the sound

A masquerade, no end in sight

Can’t hide my face or go to ground.

 

Voices call inside me now

Can’t make my own be heard instead,

They pull me into depths unknown

Can’t heal the scars inside my head.

 

Dogs are barking at the walls

Can’t silence them or stop their call,

They speak to me my greatest fears

Can’t hide from them, can’t hide at all.

 

And dreams fall down like shadows still

Can’t stop them now, can’t ask for more,

I feel them shroud me like a curse

Can’t see beyond the gaping door.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Frankenstein’s Bastard – A.G. Diedericks

Richard Rothwell’s portrait of Mary Shelley ~ 1840
Frankenstein’s Bastard

I malformed
from aborted bloodbaths
to bite the hands
of a kleptomaniac midwife

Dear Frankenstein

Do I,
embolden your bestial apathy
with my woes?
Am I,
merely a pantomime
for the parochial aristocracy?

fated to this warped pestilence — the stench of patricide gestates in my throat

My heart is a contaminant; an abberation that anchors the intonation of a lover’s gaze

felicity dwindles in my wake,
it dare not breach
the elongated visage of my
consumption

I am shrouded
by an opulent darkness
that fosters the penury of my soul

there’s no alienist for what lives inside of me

My bones scythe a fissure in empiric science

I am the reification of death:
cobbled by inviolable skin
with ears to inoculate the
incantation of an exorcist
My iris blackens the convex of your erstwhile sun

Halcyon birds

Plummets where i walk

. . .

Dear Frankenstein

You, who molded me from madness;
map me a path to digress from this
metastasized matter
place me in an era,
where the kinship of poetry
have not forsaken me
Where even I,
tread with shadows bereft

Glitter to Rust – Chris Nelson

We dance and dance to jingle’s tune

And eager swallow every lie,

The promise of the silver moon

To hang ourselves in crystal sky.

We offer up each golden prayer

To mark our lives like none before,

And drape ourselves in jewels so rare

Like none but us can read the score.

And on our faces painted clear

Desire and lust out stripping need,

The thought of less our only fear

To justify our burning greed.

Our eyes fixed firm towards the light

That guides us to the good and true,

Expectance lingers in our sight

At offerings for the chosen few.

We grasp at gold within our reach

As fortune smiles her twisted grin,

To claim the riches that we seek

She offers us a way to win.

But what is it we find we hold

When all the glitter turns to rust,

And we are weakened, frail and old

And all our futures turned to dust?

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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