What Words May Come

Writing simple poetry, song lyrics and short stories has become so important to me over the past few years.  When I began my words were therapy for me though at the time I didn’t realize it.  I certainly never considered how impactful these words would become in my life and, from time to time, in other’s lives too.  What thrills me most is the feedback and how many different opinions and interpretations I get from one poem read through the eyes of others.  When I write the words simply flow without me getting too caught up in whatever theme may arise.  It simply starts with a line or sentence then blossoms from there.  I’ve been told it’s a gift, and while somewhere deep within me I believe that to be true, I wonder why it took so long to develop even as it continues to grow.  My grandfather was a writer, so perhaps that is where the answer lies.  Regardless, I hope you find some meaning, some smiles, some tears or something else worthy of your time here within these scripts.

God bless,

Kev

All works herein are owned and copyrighted

by Kevin D. Parish

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CAUTION

Cunning and denial

Walk hand and hand down the aisle

While Satan saunters off into the sunset…

With a smile

THE BLACKEST OF INKS

Cloak and dagger are the harshest of words

Secretly spreading subservient meaning

Who shall defend the innocent eyes whose heart has not realized complete destruction

Oh, the blackest of inks

CHANGES

Lusty Spring oh you whorish curd to covet the morsels of Winter’s ravishing

Chortling in the distance Summer observes ‘how short a memory have you’

While slumber embraces with dreams of color Fall holds no worries unto

WINTER’S SOUL

I keep the veneer clean and polished

No one sees beyond its sheen

The meek and shuddering cries alike I keep hidden deep where they dwell

I cannot allow them to see the light

Never admitting others into this hell hidden within

You see the me that invites a kind word, smile, laugh or nod

I struggle to keep the façade in place

Imagining your disgust and revolution of my true inner self would be too much

This is my daily toil and charge

In the night my calloused heart attempts to breathe

It struggles to hold the sadness – the madness propagating, multiplying

Pressure builds and the nightmares come

Even in slumber I have no solace or rest

I must prop up and hold the barrier to keep the damnation of my Winter’s soul at bay

In my dreams people see the real me and I want to die

Brokenness is too kind a word

Morning brings the cold reality of polishing the veneer

Another day of hiding in plain sight

Smiling, I will hold the abomination that is stealthily stalking behind my eyes

A jail within

A mirage without

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