from your head to your toes

at the bottom of a glass
of amber ripples soft and biting
your name came up to whisper to me
where you been
what new hopes you been inviting

thought you'd gone
on hol'day to forever
never to return, to sever
to begin anew and weather
storms and springs on shoes untethered

but the tides the glass embracing
so surprising, secrets seeping
make me turn and contemplate the spirit
of revolving doors and drifting
back again to the beginning
sinking
spinning
scanning
dreaming

mind made up and senses ready
take the road, the pack, the bedding
i'm sure you thought so, so did i
yet one step forward two steps back
and so it's back, the drawing board awaits
the keyboard, websites, nights up late
to wait
to stay
to leave
to cherish
so nightmarish
sacred, secret, scarlet, scary

so dive again, once more into them
amber waves of memory brightening
in your eyes, your smile, your blessings
whiskey drops my throat caressing
no response, these ripples messy
i'm guessing
i'm stressing
breaking
promises and missing
back to check, to see and hoping…..
nothing
only me just whispering
baby girl, baby sting, baby mine

solace

there's a space
in the middle of warfare
in the midst of the clash
a split second of timelessness
where the action seems to slow down
and in that finite enternity i find
sanity
reasons
remembrance
focus
future
and the solace of your face

battleground

i stand on the battleground
the place where inner collides with outer
where past and present clash
to bring about the future

turmoil all around and doubt is coursing
while i stand
rage, tears and confusion
yet i stand
as ready as i'll ever be
know i'll stand
in the face of it all - the enormity
still i stand

this is the field of battle
where barbs are slung forth and challenges issued
where purpose is true as a steeled blade
intent, primal and vicious
chances are few and must be taken
choice is but one and can't be forsaken

the course is set
grim-faced and sullen
for death to take, that new life will waken
blades are bared
glint-eyed and thirsty
the time is nigh, the earth is quaking
these fingers tremble
as much for fear as for anticipation
elation, despair, the breaking from stagnation
it begs the question, now as ever, the consummation
will it be survival or damnation?

this is the battlefield
the face-off, fragmented time
commands and cuss words strew the ground
as much as bodies, broken hopes and grime
a fraction of a moment, so charged and so explosive
yet, but a moment; so tragic and involving
the rush of blood, the grimaced visage
the face contorted, the pained looks, the image
of barren wastelands, of promise dispatched
of teary eyes, of fright, of impact

this is the time of amputation
of desperate choice, of cruel decision
of sacrifice to save the many
the innocent, the weary, if left are any
this is the time of hardship, the time of rage and please forgive me
the violent labor, the painful birthing of new destiny
of sacrifice to save the many
the innocent, the pure, if left are any

dusk with a dawn that won't break

these are dark days of downfall
damaged, i tread down this path
derailed and downtrodden: deranged
daunted, i fear
and decidedly damned

bordering on devastation
deliberately don the drab dress of despair
delve deep in this dharma, so drastic and dismal
dive downwards, downstream, eyes downcast

there is no delicious distraction
no durable discipline, none
i feel drugged and denied,
nigh demolished and dry
diligent only in drama,
diverted from course and declined
deeper forever this road, desperate,
debilitated,
disposed in these doomed, darkened domes

disposition will not deviate
from designs and devising by rote
damned if i do, dread if i don't
i am the downside, the drawback, the don't
i'm drenched in duress,
drink up the delicate drops
of dejection, and let them,
drip slow down my throat
the discourse is doubt
that delivers the deathblow
assessing the death-toll
deformed details fall out
dissonant decibels dealt loud on deaf eardrums
decayed and embittered, this drought

i come to discover the depths of this spiral
destined to dusk with a dawn that won't break
the doors to my dungeon have swallowed
and drums dole out dirges
for dwindling hopes

i dredge bygone days, the debacle to quell
to detain deadly spindle collecting my debts
but its thread's everlasting
ever dropping's its spell
and the yarns won't detangle
bound and despondent i'll stay

these darts on my side
drain blood, trust and desire
the shell that i'm left with,
this carcass is dour
in diffidence,
drive desists, broken and tired
descending the dire direction to dwell

discord takes my soul to rend
dermis dissolves under cruel dynamics
distressed that my wishes won't mend
disconcerting directness, definitive blow
dust settles, beginning the end

the dune dares not wait to devour
dark druids and dryads surround as i'm torn
tormented, so distant the respite, so dim
in deep, wallow and tumble, alone

the din all around won't die down
the dogs of the demons dine slow
at my insides, the duel between wisdom and soul
dismayed in this duty to burn and to drown
to wallow and tumble, to dwell
the mud, muck and mire, to bathe in
devilish dervish to dance until dead,
dislocated, dissected and bled
to detach, disembark and farewell
to diminish and finally fade

there are poems

there are poems that talk about love
about peace
about passionate beauty
but this is not one of them

there are those that glorify god and creation
from this floating blue marble
to the tides of the ocean that hold it
yet this is not one of them

there are some that talk about valor
about an unyielding strength in the face of daunting odds
about stoicism that won't falter
still this is not one of them

there are verses that delve in the power of friendship
of bonds realized in due time and process
of a life well-lived and death carved out in honor
no, this is not one of them

there are the poems that whisper of taking the call
of awareness and redemption
of a fight fought hard and tranquility earned
but i'm sorry to say: this is not one of them

all these speak and elicit attention
they witness and hold truth
they cradle within an ounce of hope, ever enduring
but alas, this is not
and never will be
one of them

anton

i am deliverance
i am what's coming
what began and must run its course

the toll and ticking of time
the last face, i am
the one without trace
the one at the end of the trail

i am the unlucky quarter
i am the wake-up call
i am the denouement
the last draw of breath
the one inescapable truth

the cut
the cure for all ills
the rain on the parade
the perfect tool, the wrench

i am the end
the conclusion
the final whistle
the call of fate

i am the effect of the cause
i am the result
i am what's coming
and i am come

PSA: MusicPoetic

Hey friends,
I'm pleased to announce that, I have started a new blog that will house all my music commentary: Music Poetic. Starting today, you're all more than welcome to check it out. If you feel motivated, leave a comment, or better yet, suggest some music. Poetrical Musings will continue on, as the place for my poetry and opinion pieces. Hope you enjoy both of 'em.
Blessings.