Month: July 2020

Incubus

Incubus
 
An Incubus came to me,
and I was stranded
on an Island unknown to me
 
Strides as far as I can take
I gather all that I can see
a world of twisted fantasies
 
Around, my aspirations
are all I can breathe
drowning in a glazy eyed state
 
Everything I wanted
tortured into macabre fonts
set to dance like marionette lies
 
I cannot handle my eyes
these must be dirty lies
tricks of the flies
 
I try to run
but the Incubus hums
a dirty little tune
 
And I zoom
right back to start
to watch the play again
 
My dreams, my horror
on a repetitive motor.
 
7\23/20 – Andy McRae

Empty/Mirror

Empty/Mirror
 
 
The Empty is on me
The Empty is around me
Forever stalking me
This void is in my hair

I watch the corners
Of my eye
For the void
Empty that is my lie

When it reaches out
And grasps me tight
The Empty takes with it
I


See yourself standing
There in the mirror
Watch and stare
How bare
Presented to the world
Without a soul no more
What an affair

Unable to move
Cry or fall
You notice the little things
Text off center
And a bug on the wall
Why is the world
Seem so small

And it all comes crashing back
Your soul, your mind, your sin
Falling downward
Fin.


6/29/20 – Andy McRae

Syncing Delusional

Syncing Delusional
 
I am the unusual
Very much delusional,
A man perched on the brink
This verse, this man, out of sync.
 
I am searching to fill in a hole
A chunk of ground missing in front
Of my blind eyes, I fall in with a grunt.
Bury me alive, cover me with dirt, like a mole
I, the delusional, cannot see through to your soul
 
Pondered on the verge of my destruction
Why is it that I am always looking for what is null
You fell into my gaze, only for me to crack my skull
If I bleed onto you, I will bleed on your instruction
I have fallen, delusional I am, into your seduction.
 
7/8/20 - Andy McRae

INK 2

INK II
 
Words flowing
Like a fountain of oil
Ink
From the mind
Covering all in script
 
I cannot contain
The fount of ink
Blackens out the page
With darkened letters
Words poisoned
Ink stained
 
Reading what was written
I find nothing but the unforgiveable
Ink smudges on my hand
On my face, crawling in
Sanity bending whim
 
Ink
A simple thing
Sitting in a jar
Take it out
And madness
Is not far
 
Ink.
 
6/25/20 – Andy McRae

This poem revisits the idea of Ink being this powerful force. Here is the original INK

Pink Rose

Pink Rose

In the light of a harsh sun filled day
A lone bloom, a pink rose, reaches for the sky
Curling down a petal, a single drop, a cry
A pink rose, a lone bloom fenced in, to keep at bay
All gloom and doom of a world outside the array

Yet the drop is not curling down the petal
For simple gloom and doom so removed
A pink rose, a lone bloom, seclusion proved
To be a sword hilt ringed with a thorny metal
Effective for sure, but an unhandleable devil

Gated on all sides, an island at sea
A lone bloom, kept from the doom
A pink rose, alone from all the gloom
Kept alone from all the horizons that it can see
Why, little pink rose, a drop is curling down thee.

July 6, 2020 - Andy McRae

Hydra

She said
'Have a nice day'
So, I tried, I wanted to try so hard
But this hydra hit us off guard
 
That barista was delightful
My coffee, simply delicious
But I could not go back
Because the hydra was malicious
 
Now I drink coffee alone, at home
Nobody around to say
'Have a nice day'
And still the hydra is on the roam
I cannot win in this modern apocalyptic zone.
 
June 30, 2020 - Andy McRae