Silent Epitaphs

"A haven where the dead can speak."

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Poetry

The Long Walk

I am an emperor
Of blowing ash
And broken dreams
The king of lies
I govern an empire
Of hardened creeks
And hollow screams
A kingdom of nothing
Fully enclosed
By legions of fear
And walls of doubt
Moats of betrayal
Surround my dusty throne
A drawbridge of shadows
Leading me home.



Fallen

Shattered dreams, the angel's wings are beyond repair.

Relaxed enough to realize, but too fucked up to care.

The angel wanders down this lonely street, love in his pocket,
and eyes filled with fear.

                                                                                                             

Still standing nightmares, the angel's eyes can no longer bear.

Collected enough to conceive, but much too stunned to stare.

The angel trips upon his clumsy feet, love fell from his pocket,
and eyes filled with tears.

 

Shadowed reality, the angel's sanity eclipsed by despair.

Detached enough to disguise, but far too sinned to bare.

The angel ascends into his honored seat, a forsaken socket,
and eyes filled with air.

 

The demon's soulful eulogy,

Sweet nothings in his ear.

A tantalizing whisper,

The angel no longer hears.

Once silent, a now deafening cry

And as the wails slowly burn

Beyond his now empty chair.

He asks himself and discerns

That to live free of illusions

The angel must be spared.


The Show Must Go On

When the last soul leaves,
And the curtains called.
The empty stage
Sings softly to itself.
For it remembers.
Every step, and song
Each kiss, and dance,
Yet,
It tells no one.






The Shnosberries Taste Like Shnoseberries

There's a gentle wind that turns
The blackest nights, to early dawn.
It etches in wood, the beautiful faces
That the water, carves into delicate stones.
There's an infinitesimal whisper
That our star revolves, around itself.
It reflects the moon, all eyes and demons
To create a world, where trees can melt.



Crossroads

Every night,
A world of demons
Play Hallows Eve
With a simple mask.
Your fallen face.
Bullet shattered.
A different time,
A different place.
Four frozen rivers
Burn bridges
With crosses
Idols of the divine.
A movement
Tempted.
Flirtations failed.
The ground
Will grow without you
As do hair,
And nails.



Doll, Doll, Little Doll

You're at the top of the list

In the bottom dollar barrel.

Better cease and desist

Or I'll cut you to marrow.

Just sit and be quiet

My precious china doll.

If you fight, I won't buy it,

My pretty china doll.

Go roam about your desert.

As long as the leash will reach.

If you stray it'll only hurt you.

Hot feet in a frozen beach.

Pigtails and a gladius,

My fearless china doll.

What a pretty little fist,

My headless little doll.


Ropes and Feathers

To shake foundations
Dip my tongue into the core
This false belief
An endless running system
That's been feeding us and more
Trapped below its broken bridges
Hung a noose that's far too high
Grip it once to test its stature
Pull it twice and watch it fall
Coiled snakes that chase us
Waiting for the owl's call
To force a life through compromise
Dirty feet through tired sand
Blindfold this rampant cancer
As it claims our earthen hands



 


The Writer

There is no angel on my shoulder.

No demons wanting piggybacks.

Crushed the first with a boulder,

Left the latter by the railroad tracks.

It's just me sitting lonely,

Weaving the stories

That I want my home to be.

Wondering where the front door leads,

But never looking back.


What Then

Up and down.
A seesaw
And a ladder.
The highways,
Spread wider,

And the children,

Grow fatter.
Round and around
A tire swing,
And a jungle gym.
We play in the freeways,
And drive in the playgrounds.
To the endless sounds,
Of idled chatter.
 

Hidden Fighter

Will no one help bury these dueling swords?

Two puppets strung from the same cord.

Fists of horns, halos forged in gold.

To the highest bidder goes the soul.

 

One hand shakes the other,

While yet another pats a back.

While infants girls in China smothered,

Unpainted nails grow dead and black.

 

Where is justice in a place so cold?

Buried in bomb shelters years ago.

Packed away with cans and water.

Who needs hell when earth is hotter?

Who needs hell when earth is hotter?



The Hate We Breed Makes Love No Fun

The words and letters,
Segregated like each and every color.

Beheld the blind man's eye.

Trapped inside a cracking heart of vengeful bones.

When you settle down, behind your fence.
Do you note the shade?

Can you feel at all, the questions answered as your distant neighbors fall

Across barbed wire borders lined with pre-pardoned guns.

 

The hate we breed makes love no fun.

Hide the words that blind your mind.

Free your soul from what’s to come.

Dissolve the colors into one.

 

Fear is your accomplice,
Along with prejudice and greed.

The blind man sits and spits his pride.

As you settle down,
for a biscuit and some tea

Snuggled deep between Egyptian sheets.
Can you hear the screams?

Do you have ears at all, as your distant neighbors attempt to recall

The art of love taught from the mouths of lolita whores.

 

The hate we breed makes love no fun.
Hide the words that blind your mind.

Free your soul from what’s to come.

Dissolve the colors into one.



Herald Hark the Heroes Flee

Set me free,
release me from this buried cage.

Beneath the phase in which the fool's moon face.

Let me breathe,
the moist air that floats like summer haze.

Above the dirt that screams to return it's unturned grave.

I've lost my eyes to the essence of my spiraled soul.

A bottle broken along the ice that rips apart this ugly mold.

Forget my feet as they exit through this empty hole.

As time is released,
my mind boils through the bitter cold.

To raise and rise,
these long dead heroes to stand by my side.

Since the fallen angels,
forsook their wings,
and chose instead to hide.


All content is the copyright of Derek Hayes. No content may be reproduced without express permission. If you would like to use any of the content, contact the author at: dhayes@silentepitaphs.com