The Land of the Purple Sky (part b)

The curtain slowly rises upon a dark dismal day…

As the insane infant smiles a creepy scowl,

His eyes drift slowly upward.

Peering through the haze of seething hatred and shame

His soul erupts in stark electiric laughter.

No love, no hate… just anymosity towards the living…

And fear of those fortunate dead… carries him forward.

Was that by chance a microscopic glimmer of hope, momentarily?

Or just the hairline crack in his personal mask?

Still sorrow follows him everywhere…

The life of Chaos’ first-borne Son…

A Shadow

This poem won a contest on Poetry.com last year and was published in their anthology of new poets. This was the 6th time I was published. Hope you like it. Let me know…

 

A Shadow

As the moon gently floats cross the sky,
I catch the lilting twinkle of your eye.
A slight wink I cast across the room
A far off pass from my days of gloom.
You shrug me off and look away…
No lust, no love for me today.
I pushed you out to complete my change
Another lost love? or one never so strange?
I never knew where I stand or stood
We never really talked like two people should.
Promises made… kept, unkept… untold lies?
But you… I will never despise.
You thought you knew me but even I
Had no clue what lurked behind my eye.
I cannot, could not, get you to let loose
That sealed shut shell that gave me such blues.

Copyright ©2009  Kevin John Sievers

The Land of the Purple Sky

The curtain rises to a brand-old day,

   As the insane infant peeks out a window.

All around abound the good people on their way,

   He wishes he had somewhere to go.

The clouds drift o’erhead reminding him

   Of scattered thoughts lost in the haze…

Like riding a bike or learning to swim,

   ‘Stead he drifts in this magickal maze.

He hears his melodies lilting, softly in

   The background…his soundtrack, his life plays. 

He lazily ponders yet once again…

   ‘Tis weird it is to have his very own.

No crew, no camera, no little green men…

   The sound effects are ne’er over blown.

Yet…

 

© Kevin Sievers  circa 1985

Am I Wrong?

Sorry to all you who look here to laugh. This poetic attempt was not intended to be funny… I just needed to get it out and felt this was a good place to do it.

A little background for this poem: I saw my ex-wife again earlier. She is more of a mess than she ever was. It felt like a huge release melted over me. Some deeper understanding for a moment, if you will. I can truly say that I have finally forgiven her for cheating (and no longer pity her either). It still feels a little weird though.

 

When I see my ex-wife doing worse than me,

Am I wrong to barely choke back a laugh?

If I feel no remorse that what once was just could not be?

Am I wrong when I do not care to hear her latest gaff?

Am I wrong? Am I?

Am I wrong to curse this clown I’ve become?

Wrong for falling up when falling down?

To see this “one true love” I once had (so dumb…)

Am I wrong for casting her out on the town?

Am I wrong? Am I?

When breach of trust sears your soul,

And all close round you the Bible quote,

Left standing dead-alive, a gaping hole,

Am I wrong as I just ago wrote?

Am I wrong? Am I?

Forgiveness comes in many a dire guise,

Peace of mind grows healthy again, slow,

Happiness be found in thoughts of the wise?

Am I wrong to laugh that I can grow?

Am I wrong? Am I?

 

© Kevin Sievers 04/21/2009

The Last

As I wander through this wonderful life,

I often pause to scan the strife,

My ex-wife, my ex-bosses, my ex-properties…

The life I’ve chosen was chosen to tease.

It teases me with pleasures sublime,

And nudges me towards  the world of crime.

It wraps me up in silk and snot,

Lands me jobs that ne’er pay alot…

Kicks me when I’m up or down…

This life I stole… I am the Clown.

© Kevin Sievers 04/11/2009