Tag / poetry

by Chris Chant

Burn

We have to unlearn
To be a Burden,
Release the frustrated
Of feeling hated.
We try and we try
To live and not die,
But it’s so hard
To kick start
The energy and will
To swallow the pill
To be able to see straight
And let go of the hate.

I look in the reflection
And see no direction,
Just roads of chaos
Leading to being lost.
I know, and I feel
One day I will heal
Until then I shall not hide
And Choose to stay inside
Where comfort lies in place
And I never show my face.

I will go forth to live
Allow myself to forgive
All the invisible thoughts
That cut my life short,
Yes I shall stand
Drop the knife from hand
Pull up out of the bath
Smile and laugh,
You know I could
In fact I know I should,
If only I wasnt dead
And the water wasnt red,
And my thoughts wasnt fate
Telling me im too late,
I never learn
Im still a burden
My family will find me
Open the door and see
My body, or what’s left,
See I’m still out of place, even in death.

by Chris Chant

Domino

Dont repeat this writing
Do not say these words
Pronounce no more,
or chaos will resume.
Midnight will become timeless
Darkness unleashed
Bringing out the horrors
And flesh will be consumed.
Cursed is a curse
Non believing makes it worse
Don’t tempt it out
To play in the light,
Dancing on bones,
It will strike the leader
The biggest ego among men
Slashing the laughter
Blood staining homes.
Smile if you will
Joke at my expense
Even though your mind is scared
And your lips tightly shut,
For it hears all
Flays to be fed
Will not stop or relent
To feed its rotting gut.
Do not share I plead
My conscience is now clear
The fault will not be mine
If blood runs in your tears.

by Chris Chant

I Dont like Wednesdays

I Don’t Like Wednesdays

Days are set in limbo
To which I will explode,
These times I’ve grown to hate
With Life falling on this date,
Clocks have all the power
Striking on doomed hours,
Wilting bodies until raw
Curling naked in a ball,
Drowning in self sweat
Flooding rooms with regret,
Please wake me up on the bell
When the days are not in hell.

by Chris Chant

Flight

Flight

Escape not from this room
You knew this
You knew impending doom
Not apparent bliss.

No chance to escape
Fight or flee
Your autonomy raped
It’s not different, you see

I will squeeze for life
Control the blood
Distract the mind
Search for love

Pain rather than avoidance
Hope better than death
Control is in the thought
Fear is in the breath

by Chris Chant

The Show Must Go On

The Show Must Go On

He will try to convince you
To do the merry dance,
The joker,
Pretending to be your friend,
His Manic laughter
Promising happily ever after.
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jesters hat,
Go away you insidious monster
You mock yourself with that,
One, two, the fools on you
I see your game
Suffocating my lungs
Crushing my heart,
Whispering my name.
Bloody depression…

by Chris Chant

Dear Papa

Tread upon my memory
Twist the past to suit
So now I dwell in silence
And cry for help in mute.

You cannot talk for dread
Of upsetting your life of now
A coward never thinks
Just nods his head and bows

Similar in physicality
Only way that we’re the same
When people ask about me
You stutter at my name.

Deny any blood relations
Making young generations cry
When they knock the door in decades
Will you look them in the eye.

by Chris Chant

Karma Coma

Crying wolf to fate
Will arrange you a date
With the shadow of the reaper,
A soldier of lifes sleeper

No feelings or emotion
Or evidence of commotion,
When he cuts from the knees
The only moment he is pleased

When humans think of Karma
It’s a wind that brings much harmer,
An invisible eye of balance giving
To the path of righteous living

Sees all, and the virtual truth
No excuse to live or behave as youth
The cold will hit when cruel are older
As Karma taps on the foul cold shoulder.

by Chris Chant

Untitled

Choosing demons over loves,
Making deals with invisible allies
Who you believe will serve you right
Not serve up pain in longevity.

Non-belief of close ones hit their peaks
Freaking over the words,
Rebounding over and over,
Until rage blurs the lines of empathy.

Possessed and obsessed
A combination that kills millions,
And left many more stranded,
Empty handed.

There is either no end
Or a quick end,
Both a torture to the victim,
The perpetrator, and the fool,
Three acts playing out
In one mind.

How can one soul survive in this environment
And live unscathed,
Not in isolation, no, they will die alone,
This life needs help,
This life needs to be saved.

by Chris Chant

Limbo

A nights sleep and the heart pumps bigger
Now what hits is the constant trigger

My skin is so wet, and my nerves are soaked
My soul is flat, and my will is choked

I feel there is light, I feel heat in my eyes
A brighter appearance brings up a good cry

I put down the bottle, throw down the cork
Open the door and skip as I walk

The outlook is clearer, different and real
Feels like the air, has shook off its chill

A smile breaks free, wide and thin
The combined warmth, comes from within

Another same day, from beginning to end
Half wearing the mask, half full of pretend

One extreme to the other, to which I seem bound
Desperately searching, for some middle ground.

by Chris Chant

Three Ghosts

Anxiety the past,
Praying on memories of old
Turning joy toxic
Parading doubt in front of others.
Questioning becomes an obsession
With the conscious gods.
Rewriting history through imagination
And doubt.
Feelings of guilt and regret
Cloud truth and innocence.

Depression the present,
Creating Insomnia
And tireless days
Mask slips in lonesome moments
Reappearing with others,
Painting a fake smile in company
Swapping faces to suit situations.
Forever Praying for, and fearing, isolation,
A bittersweet time of clarity
And relief,
In a day of celebration
Where the crowd mood is red
The depressives is blue.

Fear is the future,
Projecting thoughts
To unknown happenings,
Maybe Death or incarceration,
No positive or warm to hold onto.
Uncertainty a devil of the mind,
Imagination the keys on which he plays
Silencing voice of reason.
Rationality plays part of advocate
Though fails to satisfy or reassure
Peace and calm.
Noone can predict what the future holds
Though my accurate twisted depiction,
Is feeling alone and cold.
Many are visited always by these three ghosts,
And Christmas occasions can prove too dour
An Understanding voice can sing like a Carol
A true gift given, in a much needed hour.