Pulsar

photo credit: KJ Photographie ***** via photopin (license)

Travelling seventy miles a second
As sunlight explodes through the trees.
Wind fire blowing through the neurons
Carried on the autumn breeze.
And it’s good to be alive,
Blood pulsing, raining fire,
As the journey flies beneath the wheels.
With the trees as golden as desire,
Roadside sentinels, as my chariot drives me.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 19 November 2017

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I See Dead People

I see ghosts out of the corner of my eye.
Shadows of the past, phantoms long gone,
Haunting me. Sleeping and waking, the dreamers
Creep through the tall grass. Circling my sanity.
Searching for the weaknesses in my reality.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Chiaroscuro

photo credit: The Manic Macrographer Low Key Portrait via photopin (license)

Your light and dark plays with me.
Essence of night is the fragrance you wear.
Silence is the word on your lips
As with a gaze unwavering you stare
Succeeding again at unmanning me.

Twilight and rain clouds wrapped about you
Like a mantle of darkness
You are shadows, a certain chill in the air.
An absence, a sickness,
An addiction I keep on returning to.

You are the bones, the secret within.
The whisper deep underground
Forever echoing in the dark.
You are the fatal cry. The final sound.
I am your victim. You are my sin.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Horizontal

photo credit: d6v1d Tiger & Turtle via photopin (license)

I want to be in a steady state
Once in a while.
To take a break from the up and down,
The rollercoaster of fear and forgotten dreams
And shattered plans. Once in a while.

Not taking it all lying down.
Not a unicycle loop the loop
But a steady state at a steady rate
Not speeding up and slowing down
On a steep incline through life.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 22 September 2017

Your Silence Speaks

photo credit: Steve Corey The Mermaid via photopin (license)

Your silence
Speaks an ocean,
Of the stars and the dust;
Reflected
Glories
Harder and harder to bear.

Your vengeance
In the crying light
In the shadow of trust.
Sharing out the darkness,
The madness
In Gaia’s despair.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 23 August 2017

Wildflower

photo credit: garryknight Uranium Geranium via photopin (license)

Be a wildflower in a garden of roses.
When one door closes
Kick another one open.
Be little girl, whatever you want to be.

Be a daredevil on a tightrope,
A beacon of hope,
The last rays over stormy seas.
Be little girl, whatever you want to be.

Be a dancer without any music.
And if you dance to a tune
Make sure that you choose it.
Be little girl, whatever you want to be.

Be a horse galloping free.
Running wild, kicking up dust,
Trust yourself, do what you must.
Be little girl, whatever you want to be.

Be a wildflower in a garden of roses.
Be your own kind, something new –
Rambling free wherever you choose.
Be little girl, whatever you want to be.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 9 June 2017

The Deaths

photo credit: Tortured Mind Dark alleys of Xibalba via photopin (license)

Plumbing the deaths

Falling to pieces,

This virus

Infecting us all.

This entropy

Interconnectivity

Escaping my soul.

This sickness

Modern madness

Crime waves

Pandemic

In the DNA

Of society –

About to tumble

And fall.

The faceless

And the faithless,

Mood music

To soundtrack

The riot.

Choreographing the violence

Over and over

Until we get it right.

Or we forget what’s right,

Loosening our grip on reality

The will to fight.

To all that is left is this decay,

Neurons misfiring

And demons crying

Over and over,

Until you get on your knees and pray.

For the seizures to free your soul

Or the inevitability;

The deaths to conquer us all.

 

Quote from ‘High Rise’ by JG Ballard. Art ‘ The Music from the Balconies’ by Edward Ruscha. Photo by me!

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 20 April 2017

Escapologist

 

photo credit: Derek R Goulet Beach Bird via photopin (license)

Yesterday is not tomorrow,
Memories are not today.
All those childhood tears
Yet you are not crying now.
You survived my darling,
You survived.

And those heartfelt sighs,
Too, too many goodbyes.
Teddy bears the only lonely listeners,
And birds with broken wings.
Yet you survived my darling.
You may still fly.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 31 March 2017

Rainy Monday

photo credit: © Axel Naud It's rainy outside.. via photopin (license)

photo credit: © Axel Naud It’s rainy outside.. via photopin (license)

I’m a child who is still growing
I’ve not gained enough experience yet.
I don’t have the level of knowing
To stand on my own feet without a helping hand
From someone who loves me.
From someone prepared to accept my fallibility.
My ability to fuck it up on an epic scale,
I can only say sorry
On those days when I don’t feel ready to be an adult.
You know, when it’s Monday and raining again.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 20 February 2017