hunterm85-blog

[hunterm85-blog]

Temperature Tempest

Where has it gone,

The air of yore?

Nought but hot miasma,

Now fills my nostrils.

Sun and dry,

They scorch the earth,

When will this madness end?

Shade and fan,

They fight the fury,

That drives flower to droop.

Drawn to water,

To consume and submerge,

For rest that is all but fleeting.

Blazed and boiled,

Prison of my own doors,

From morn til dusk is calling.

@wrentalks @picklemafia

[hunterm85-blog]

Such Sweet Sorrow

When too many moons have been,

Since my garden has felt the sunlight of your presence,

There grows a hole the size of you,

That lives inside of me.

No matter what I pour into my body,

The hole it remains,

Empty.

What the fourth number is

To the padlock of my heart,

Will only truly reveal itself,

When ours beat inches apart.

Colours they do not dazzle,

Smells do not whet the appetite,

Music is just noise.

My soul it still calls your name,

Yet alas my ears don't ring,

With the sound of your voice.

This platter is such sweet agony,

Where has my palate gone?

I taste nothing but misery,

I must have for what I long.

[hunterm85-blog]

Guess what inspired this?

Poison Thunder

What of this witching hour?

How long this awful din?

Tremors through sleep and soul,

Surely this sound is sin.

Anger courses through the beat,

Discord sown in its song,

Though the orchestra is empty,

It's tempest suggests throng.

Poison thunder

coursing through me

Poison thunder

Sleepless eternally.

The window rattles,

From a hollow chamber,

Where is the conductor,

This late night tainter?

There is no ceasing,

This is forever now.

Every second grates,

Like a tortured hour.

[hunterm85-blog]

Stay the Course

Seas could ignite,

The air might boil.

Steel may rain,

Blood upon soil.

Imagined or material,

It matters all the same.

The fight the only journey,

We have to play the game.

Elements beyond control,

Remedies beyond grasp,

One must navigate,

One must survive,

And not give in to the asp.

The passing of the storm,

Rarely rent with blast of horn.

Simply a realisation,

That a new era is born.

[hunterm85-blog]

When Your Touch Stops Me

I cover my soul in cloth,

Woven thick and tousled,

Of thread, faded and aged,

So I do not yearn for touch.

It's rough and it scratches,

But warmth it does give me.

I lack the touch, miss the love,

That sets my energy free.

I long to shed, to lay it bare,

The skin upon my arm,

To feel your love,

From gentlest touch,

And know I fear no harm.

So hear I wait, covered up,

My skin emotionally numb.

I wait for that lightest touch,

To tell me that love has come.

@picklemafia

[hunterm85-blog]

Our Crown Princess of Fire

Curly wisps of flame,

Delicately light the crown.

A fire that is yet an ember.

Yet already how it's glow

Has spread.

The fire washes its warmth,

On every being with fortune,

To be caught in its amber.

Flames that hue of twin blue,

Shine across from her to you.

The softness they bring,

Makes your heart sing,

And now, you are melted through.

A smile that burns off the husk,

Yet the fire leaves no nasty musk.

For there in its place,

To replace the malaise,

Is fiery dawn to drown out the dusk.

A fire that burns without smoke,

Yet still it follows your place.

Regardless of seat or of stature,

The fires warmth is focused,

Straight at you.

A miracle on the moor,

A fire to guide home,

Incense and innocence,

A warmth that will grow.

The Queen of the fire,

Princess of the hearth,

Sweetest little soul,

On this place called Earth.

[hunterm85-blog]

Where I saw a spark,

They saw a dumpster fire,

Where I had back up singers,

They had a choir.

But dumpster fires are warm,

And they love to talk trash.

Bring over beer and vibes,

You know it will be a smash!

When the dumpster fire is done,

All the contents are now ash,

And now aren't you glad,

That you gave this ride a splash?

[hunterm85-blog]

For The Freshly Broken Up

I miss you already,

Hopelessly, uncontrollably,

I miss you,

Even though it's so soon,

I can still feel you,

In my head, in my heart,

And in my bed.

I miss you like I miss the romance

in the novel I have just finished.

The way that I miss the story,

As soon as last page is read,

And the cover returns closed.

I miss the feeling of warmth,

That was both forward and backward,

As each new page revealed anew,

And the story it gained shape.

Like the novel already read,

The desire there to start anew,

And the read the pages once more,

To feel the wonder,

And to see all its hues.

Alas, the novel is fixed,

By typeset, plot and twist,

So if it is read time again,

The same adventures and endings,

Are all that can exist.

Is it the book that you miss,

Or is it the way that it made you feel?

The temptation always probes,

The itch that must be scratched.

But need not pick book that's new,

Or read from its fresh page.

Need not search or be found,

We can let last novel age.

We can put book back,

Upon the shelf,

And walk away, heart sublime.

Its story read,

It can be shed,

New book will present in time.

[hunterm85-blog]

Last night after I'd sat laughing with you, my soul wrote me a letter.

But it speaks only in verse,

So I know not fully what it

wanted to say.

Take from this what you will:

Most tragic tale of woe

That will ever befall your ear,

Is what I could put to pen.

With nought but my tongue,

And my battle scars,

Expose my foe, to friend.

Alas, to occasion such malaise,

Such misery, on a scene so merry,

And so quaint, as this,

Is tantamount to murder,

Of gay abandon,

And unadulterated bliss.

So, in its corner, it rots,

This festering tale's decay.

Where once stood rock and sun,

Now stands,

Sand and ominous shade.

The sun it sneaks in,

Through time-worn

nook and cranny.

Darkness holds so strong,

Everywhere not touched by sun,

Ohhh it feels so clammy.

Tell not to all you meet

The squalour of the cave.

Focus only on the sun,

Even though darkness owns,

All, but a single ray.

Who will listen,

What will you win,

To speak of such dark horror.

When all they want,

All they seek,

Is escape from

their same squalour.

[hunterm85-blog]

How many galaxies,

Hold how many stars?

And I get to play Goldilocks,

On a rock,

Surrounding the same star,

As you?

How many light years,

Is the desert,

To the next rock,

Or is it a dimension?

The odds of finding you again,

In the universe,

Are too staggering,

To mention.

How many eons,

How many supernovas,

Have endlessly dragged,

And blindingly exploded,

Yet still in all that chaos,

I'm sat next to you.

[hunterm85-blog]

A Miracle Named Ada

The road that led to you,

Had twists, potholes,

Road blocks and dead ends.

It had hope,

It had despair,

There was bated breath,

Tears in the night.

But never was there doubt,

That this path was right.

An expected moment,

That fell enticingly late,

Could this be it?

Is this the end,

Of most agonising wait?

Butterflies fluttered,

Where new life now grew.

A gift long awaited,

Is quest now sated?

Only Fate knew.

There grew an angel,

Created and nurtured,

Held in suspense,

In life-giving water,

The mother that felt her,

She longed and she hoped,

To hold in her arms,

Her miraculous daughter.

Two souls longed for,

With furrowed brow,

And sleepless nights,

For the moment,

Their two eyes met,

As orbs of the angel,

Shrunk to the light.

Worry, doubt, and fear,

Had been such ugly bedfellows.

They had been overtaken,

They had been vanquished,

And now they were turfed.

The bed in which they had lain,

That had filled love with such pain,

Now was filled with the smiles,

And laughs of an angel.

And that angel had a name.