Night Watch (Turbulence)

photo credit: PeterThoeny Sonic Runway and bubbles via photopin (license)

Transition from high to lows
Is always a bumpy ride when you can’t let go.
When you are reaching out for the drowning man
Hoping, beyond hope
That he’s going to drag you back down again –
To the bottom of the well.
Instead of just hanging here where gravity is like shifting sand.
Where the currents could tear you apart
And you’re living a living hell.
Crying tears, flowing down, creating rivers all about where you stand.
But nobody sees the pain, because nobody is watching
They all think you can cope.
They share out the blind eyes, pass round the happy pills
As the music starts and you put on the clown mask.
Believing the delusion that all is well.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Fire Hides All

photo credit: chiaralily Sol via photopin (license)

Fire,
Elixir of motion
These dancing flames.
A spark of passion
Which ignites

And cannot be denied.
Turns the sky
A violent shade
And reveals the dust,
The lies within.

The shallow souls,
The hollow hearts,
The tattoo beating
To the revelatory
Rhythm of the blaze.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Destination Unknown

photo credit: One Candle Photos Time Portal Watercolor via photopin (license)

How did we end up with so much distance
Between you and I? Between what we were
And what we’ve become. Gaping silences
Now divide us, where once laughter united.

There was a time I’d have driven for miles
To bask in the glory of a half-smile.
Now I just wonder, how did we end up
With so much distance between you and I?
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Three Witches

photo credit: chiaralily Bottled via photopin (license)

Scrabbling around,
Scrabbling around for something
Down there in the dirt.
In amongst the entrails and the detritus.
And from nothing creating,
Creating something to hold onto –
Believing in a something.
We are making,
Recreating –
Holding on to something
Drawing shadows out of the night.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Bliss

photo credit: zubrow Red Cushions via photopin (license)

Bliss,
The one word
For the feeling.
Electrical dreaming,
The motion picture of colours
Exploding in my mind.

Bliss,
The one word
When my head’s spinning
Because our lips are touching.
We’re so close
I feel your heart beating.
Rhythm coalescing, realities colliding
In this mystery, in this kiss.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.