photo credit: Mr. Pebb From a Parallel Universe via photopin (license)
The stranger in the mirror,
The foreigner in my head.
Speaking in tongues
I don’t understand.
In whispers, I’ve learned to fear.
Feeling weird emotions,
Dreaming ultraviolet
Praying that I wake.
Am I the victim
Or am I the villain?
Acting out a drama
That’s far too real.
Am I alone here?
Adrift within the silence,
Crying out; hoping that you hear.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
The silence of the scream,
Lungs bursting, roiling,
Maelstrom escaping.
I cannot connect
Back into the disconnection.
The static’s code provides no illumination.
Just darkness enveloping me. Floating,
Electrifying, frightening,
Gravity weakening; slowly
Atoms disintegrating.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Trey Ratcliff In every lifetime I will find you via photopin (license)Po
I’m thinking of you
And I know you’re thinking of me.
Like a solar storm, we create electricity.
Apart but together,
Two hearts beating
Searching for synchronicity.
Hoping that the universe
Will move us closer,
Take pity,
Give us our very own galaxy.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Send me adrift. Heart & Mind via photopin (license)
I want to see you,
I want to feel you.
In the here and now.
Screw the ever-after,
All that matters
Is this very moment.
And the pleasure
You make me feel.
For I was imaginary
Until you made me real.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: John Brighenti Moss on a Log via photopin (license)
Lichen on rocks,
Scars, marks of winter
Writ large upon the trees,
That lines the path
That wanders away
From the cabin door.
Sentinel strangers
This time of year,
For there is nothing to believe in
When the trees are not in bloom.
The forest is a stranger
When the green leaf goes.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: pni Sky Eyed Mammoth via photopin (license)
I can sense the breathing of the city
Even though the windows and the curtains are closed.
I’m doing everything I can to shut out the light,
Yet I know the city keeps right on living all around me,
Hemming me in. Cocooned within glass and steel
A manufactured being in a designer prison that is all too real.
I can’t stand this conditioned air, the sterile thoughts
And pretending to be civilised enough for this society.
For how it plugs me into its desires,
The pleasure centre stimuli.
For all the antiseptic pollutants that it uses to subdue me
Are not enough recompense for what this city demands of me.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Lieven SOETE Sounds of Longing ¬ 20170522_0713* via photopin (license)
Can you be stalked by a song?
Followed in and out of your dreams by a rhythm.
Melody coiled about your subconscious,
Haunting your hours hidden in the shadows.
Music in the motion of the leaves
As they dance around, spiralling down
In autumn’s romance with gravity.
Lyrics twisting their way like a river
Through the landscape of your life.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
The glow of the lights
Shines out across the water
Calling me back home.
In the chill winter twilight
All is dark except for you.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: quirkybird Goddess Series: Ma’at via photopin (license)
Stripped of everything but my soul,
Naked, nothing left to identify my mortal remains
But the record of my conduct here on earth.
All accoutrements of wealth, all holy symbols of my false religions,
All gone now.
All shields, all swords, I’ll have no more protections.
No magic spells are left to save me
Just an account of my actions
Where they weigh a feather against my sins.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Raphael Perez Israeli Artist naive art paintings Modern People Sculpture Design Artworks City England WatercolorFlowers Houses Portrait Naif Artists Woman Pattern Mixed Media via photopin (license)
If I dream of you sometimes I hope you will forgive me. I hope you understand that I just need to see your face sometimes. For a glimpse of someone whose hair falls down upon their shoulders in that hauntingly familiar way, is not enough to sustain me. For all the colours are a hundred shades of wrong and beauty means nothing, when only your face has any meaning for me. For I can walk through a flower garden when the roses are in bloom and it feels as barren as a desert if the scent of your perfume is not the air I breathe. So if from time to time I dream of you, I hope you understand, I hope you will forgive me.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
