Poem 26: OBLIVION

A knot so tight,
Stuck in my throat,
Words of delight?
I laugh out of spite.

What do you want?
A familiar face now foreign,
Lost for meaning, judged often
By eyes that see sound, softened.

Mind so clouded,
Thoughts rushing, crowded
A parade of vivid dreams,
Strangely cheerful it seems.

Even maybe strangely sad,
Most considered it tacenda,
Broken sky leaking into meridian,
It fills us, the infinity of oblivion.

Poem 22: TRANCEPARENCY

I howled so loud,
As they buried me,
In the cold wet ground.
Time fitted that into a palm
Distance brought distance,
In unison, so calm
Harmony, transparency,
I feel your pulse,
With such clarity,
Many masks we all hide behind,
Don’t forget eye for an eye
Will make the world go blind.
Deception, betrayal, dishonesty
The lack of transparency,
Hold me,
Beyond a skin-deep sense of self,
There’s a depth of rasasvada unusually elysian.
Make a decision,
Watch an irenic mangata
The moon reflecting on the sea
Peace simply asks for transparency.

Poem 21: CONTROL

He would join his daily coma,
On his faded old sofa,
Just like clockwork, tik tok, tik tok,
The alcohol, streaming his veins,
Tied down with ropes and chains,
I am sorry, he cries as he explains,
All the broken promises obsessively he maintains.

I stood still in my corner,
Terrified,
I stood still as days became weeks,
Weeks became months and years,
Time passed uncontrollably,
I watched and learned his behaviour,
All his techniques.
I saw empty bottles broken, so lovely,
Face pale, and drained, so ugly,
I never saw him come home early.
Until one day, he never came at all.

I’m in no need for a climax,
After a sensation of alcohol,
The trick is to relax,
I promise it’s my last drunk call.
The world is black and white,
Sometimes a little in between,
Mostly smells like piss in the alleyways,
It’s far from a pretty scene.

My hands are wrinkled,
Eyes barely see,
Hair is now grey,
But am I really free?
Time has caught up,
I am old and grown up,
Turned into my alcoholic father,
Like father like daughter,
No point in regret,
Because I can’t just pack,
And pick a time to go back.
Funky smell, jukebox, neon lights,
Vodka soda, with a bit of lime,
One thing we can’t control is time.

Poem 19: UTOPIA

We are the brain cells,
Of a nine-year-old boy,
His imagination with deep wells and spells.
There is no reality, in this reality,
It’s full of faceless eyes.
Synthetic lips, cursed with sanity,
Insanity, sanity people so concerned for morality,
Yet their hypocrisy, hurts my chest
A dead utopia, dust and a quest.
Full of lawless streets but I am free,
Lawless streets with nobody,
Lawless streets and a smiling cat,
Singing from a tree, just like LSD.
This is the dead utopia,
All you people fear,
Because our existence only exists,
As long as this boy is asleep and unaware.

Poem 16: WORDS

All these poems I wrote for you,
Beautiful, true maybe even cruel,
But all these words, I spit and throw up,
Like liquid sunsets mixed in with the sea,
Meaningless, a lost cause,
Cremated, but now an oak tree.
Birds stuck inside my hair,
Hair birthed from the ashes of the night sky,
They whisper words into my ear,
Words only I understand,
Only I’m able to comprehend.

I dreamt I was dancing, naked,
In the middle of a destruction,
In the middle of the remains
Of what was a battle field.
I danced, and danced.
Till my feet bled,
Till my legs gave in,
Till the sky was dusky red,
Till the enemies feared my power,
And fled.

I dreamt I was dancing,
In the middle of a destruction,
Beneath a torn moon,
The stars cried, we confused it as rain,
It is all a mere illusion,
A delusion created for us,
We truly do own nothing,
Not even our own bodies,
It belongs to the ground.

We simply seek and search,
A moon that’s full,
In one piece, exploding with energy,
A sky so bright, thriving with life,
That showed no cracks and does not leak.
Perfection, does not need to be unique,
Simply undamaged,
A sky that will camouflage our flaws,
Even guilts, shames, cries, and evils.
Upheavals.

No soul is perfect, or pure,
Bury your conscience,
We are all a little fucked up,
Nothing makes sense anymore,
Similar to this poem,
Because we are all a little broken,
From words that was spoken,
But more from words that were unspoken.

Let your skin soak in my tears,
Watch quietly,
As I undress to the world,
I watched the white tunnel disappear,
A failed attempt, once again,
My saviour. Is he really a saviour?
Now you can kiss me goodbye,
Without any spoken words.

Poem 13: WALK AWAY

My thoughts are bitter
The world crumbling in its essence. Shiver.
A simple stroke of guitar strings. Brings together,
A melody, rhythm, hope maybe even melancholy.

Life should be avoided at all cost,
Anguish, misery, catastrophe. Mind lost.
Thunder like a hollow echo,
Walls travel you back to the 30s, art deco.

A violin playing for my sorrows,
The bows cut through, like arrows.
She cries on the kitchen floor,
Her mind an on-going war.

Walk away I plead,
Don’t be so naïve,
Walk away or grieve,
Walk away or forever deceive.

Poem 11: SKIN

In my chest, my ribs protect,
Hard bones, a dying fire,
An empty void I neglect,
Surrounded by electrical barb wire.

My demons awaken,
The wolves, howl with the full moon,
Every creature which sleeps inside. God-forsaken.
What a sad, lonely tune.

They confuse my kindness,
Assume it is weakness. Sinister grin.
I introduce hell,
It wears my skin.

Melissa Johnson

Poem 10: DAY & NIGHT

Sipping my tea, knock on the door. A visitor.
Golden long wavy hair, dancing with the breeze,
The dark sky fading, sunrise. Warm beauty. Sinister.
Her smile earnest, a little keen. I’m at ease.

Together we sipped our tea. Sweet and milky. Peaceful Harmony.
Silence broke as the world woke from its sleep,
Her eyes cut through the morning ray. “I devour darkness. Eternally.”
“He is my love, my sweetheart. But cannot live when I’m near.” Weep.

She is my source of life, no need for fear,
For when she’s around. Time had fled.
I took a glimpse to her seat. Gone. I shed a tear.
She was my sun, my day. Widespread.

The world was asleep, a trespasser in my presence,
cloak woven with shadows; I knew then. Darkness.
I trembled in my seat. Breathe, smile, patience.
His love was day, the sun, the light. He could not be heartless.

His black deep eyes stared into my soul,
He spoke, “I do not ask for much child,”
Voice deep and cold, “I am what you cannot control.”
“I am fear, the unknown, dangers of hope.” Cunningly smiled.

He was my desires in physical form. Maybe upside down.
Although, I was no longer afraid,
I was allowed to dream, to desire, with him around.
He was my moon, my night, my fantasies in a darker shade.

Melissa Johnson.