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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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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Ruffled Edges – Chris Nelson

We came here so

Many years ago,

Chasing the ruffled edges

Of a crumpled photograph

Its monochrome hues whispering

Hushed voices still echoing

From white-edged border to faded frame,

Days stilled by wishful perception

Of contentment borne on wings

Which hung like the slow-mouthed moon

Captured by the eye but slipping ever

Between the fingers that reached out

Lost like the hopeful,

And frozen images caught our eye

Like souls entrapped –

And did we know that ours would follow?

Or was it all a dream

The promise that we shared

With a belief in something better?

And we’ll meet again one day

When all the pictures have faded

And all our dreams have died,

We’ll visit them at night

And walk along the rows

Of all we never knew

And ponder why we came

And shred ourselves on all we ever lost.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Loud as Love – Chris Nelson

Sing it loud

Sing it clear

From the rooftops

Through the tears

Lift your voice

Let it roar

The heavens shake

Still no more

Scream your name

Let it sound

Like thundered skies

Silent ground

Loud as love

Whispered words

Moving mountains

Seldom heard

Cry it loud

Let it ring

The love you have

To make me sing.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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I Would Have Loved – Chris Nelson

I would have loved you then,

Your tumbling hair

A cascade of words

Around my heart,

Your silken skin

A sliver of hope

Amidst the dark,

But my eyes had not yet opened.

I would have loved you then,

Your precious lips

Their berry-sweet taste

Against my own,

Your endless eyes

Welcome drowning pools

In which to dive,

But my heart had not yet thawed.

I would have loved you then,

Your gentle touch

Warm electric glow

Against my flesh,

Your turning back

Sign for me to say

Deep hidden words,

But I knew I was too late.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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Ink me in colour – Chris Nelson

Ink me in colour

This monochrome heart

That’s bled black

For a thousand years and

Stained the Earth with pain,

Given birth to the sorrow

That wails through the night

A banshee’s song

Makes the Moon in her shame

Cover her face

And drop an icy tear which melts

A torrent which washes this despair

From corner to corner

Of a globe already sodden,

I’ll watch as each droplet seeps

Slowly from the pipette

Splashing upon the canvas

Like the first kiss of Spring

Its trickle running with quiet insistence

From page to page

Impregnates the white impassive

Sketches of life

Drowned from birth

By the flow from my eye,

Watch with impossible hope

For the pigment to take

And wash the black blood

Red – passion’s hue –

The disinterested white

Now coloured with love,

Empty the well

And I’ll drink with the thirst

Of the dying

And cling to yesterday’s hope

That the colour won’t come

Too late.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Metal Boxes – Chris Nelson

We hide our thoughts

And faces behind

The fantasies we build

In metal boxes,

The melted sand panes

Reflecting back the cold

Outside,

Holding in our voices

As if they belonged to us

And yet still they slip,

Unruly children,

Through our fingers

As they grasp too late

To ideas on the winter breeze

The chill that keeps us

Safe inside,

Open-mouthed we gasp the poison

That bleeds into our sanctum

Wishing that the journey was worth

The destination,

That our voices would join

With those we hold

In silent esteem,

That we could stay

Forever cocooned in glass and steel,

That all we would be

Would lead us home.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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Different Shores – Chris Nelson

We set sail for different shores

A chance to greet new horizons

And carve a name where once was none

To plant our feet on holy ground,

We threw our maps into the sea

To trust to luck and winking stars

And casting dreams upon the winds

Our faith forever in the brine,

We sought the land birds on the wing

Strained our ears to hear their song

And when the call came from the crow

We took to task with hungry hands,

We welcomed in the virgin green

As if we’d never loved before

And set our rootless feet upon the shore

But never felt the tendrils grow,

We let our restless eyes look back

To all the things we’d left behind

And heard our past love’s whispered words:

“Come back, come back, come home to me.”

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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