#132 POETRY =

By Charles Robert Lindholm

POETRY =

HAIKU: THE GHOST OF NIXON

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The Ghost Of Nixon

Haunts Bozo While He’s Sleeping

A Mother’s Dreams

Your dreams do not predict the future,
Be relieved they process the past
So you can function this morning.
Your fear still burns
The sweet blood in your veins,
It contaminates your heart.

#132 POETRY =

By Charles Robert Lindholm

POETRY =

Overthrow

Winch upon waking; the night is not gone.
Harangue at your terrors that sweep along the walls.
Make a shotgun of your pillow, throw lightning at the mirror.
What would the darkness have of you? Mass marketer of
fears, has aligned itself with your cheek, weaving your spittle
into the phantom.

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Awake

Enter, if you dare,
My dreams’ dungeon of despair:
Come meet my nightmares.

Dream Stalker

.

He Seeks with Visions pressing in,

Darkness Spiraling through the void;

Whispers of Unheard Dichotomy,

With Dreams so Delicately employed.

Blurring Reality

Reflections hidden in the pane

Through the looking glass again

Raven Queen

 

Raven Diabolical Queen

Mantra of Disenchantment Singing

Harbinger of Melancholic Dreams

Hiding in Plain Sight

Waking from a fretful sleep

I feel a tremor slight

journey

a journey back to the past

dreams coming back fast

nightmares speeding on the road

journey needs to be slowed

it won’t be a blast

Night Oil

In a churning rolling pool
Of black oil and oil rainbow refractions
Nightmares boil through the fluid

She Sleeps.

The covers are binding,

Breathing is elevated.

She tosses and turns,

Her universe is in peril.

Eyelids flicker subconsciously,

Sounds are deafening,

Feelings are heightened.

You. I. Us?

 

Wandering was this little soul,
in the blistering cold.
Hoping was the key, lifeless was he.
Of all the Romeo Juliet, was his story untold.
No love, nothing. Harder than it could ever be.
Believed in love, worshiped life.
Broken still, hollow inside.
Kept searching, to feel the feeling.
Kept failing, always taking the fall.
With this ignorant world and the truth concealing;
He wondered, his life had any point at all.
Like flowers fading, was his messed up mind.
All the thoughts, all the pain stored into.
Turning numb, broken projections with nightmares combined.
Love existing, hoping still to walk this through.
Life goes no easy whatsoever;
plays its part, the good, the bad.
But, fact being such passing phases never last forever.
Luck turned his way, and all the love he had.