Saturday, 30 September 2023

Kyle Coare - The man of your dreams & Wet hair

Burnining the candle

 


The thing that pushes you on

can send you crazy,

mentally rushing through your head

like an earworm song. On and on.

Spinning you on a downward spiral,

like a vinyl record at the wrong speed.

The thing you awaken within,

sometimes needs to feed.

 

The thing that you push to create

can make your head feel

like it's under a heavy weight,

and the pressure is making it break.

You put every hour, every second

into the creation.

Pulling hairs and grinding teeth.

Tears wept for art, tear your heart apart.

Spilling blood

to pour

over the paper pages

beneath.

You push and push.

It all starts to crush.

Never stop

to feel the rush

or to feed yourself

some well-earned love.

 

Not so much both ends of the candle

as the whole world ablaze.

You work relentlessly for days.

Just to create. Pouring

every drop of sweat,

every emotion you hold,

boiled down and reduced

to a single piece of art.

Then you are left

with an empty hole in your heart

and a void in your brain

where the former work

was all contained.

 

 


Thanks for reading

Endless Nightmares out now

300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling

 https://amzn.to/42H2OGw

Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle


 

Kyle Coare - Can't sit still forever & sea of colour

Friday, 29 September 2023

Kyle Coare - Ancient explosions & imagery out of the ordinary

Fog of melancholia

 


When melancholia rolls in

like a teasing fog

across my thoughts.

When clouds are painted

in a deep spectrum of grey

and the blue sky is

threatening to tear my day in two.

I let my thoughts blow away.

When low is the only way

my mood will go,

I take myself to the city

where the lights glow.

 

When polythene fear

clings tightly to my skin

and my weary thoughts

are wearing thin,

I take to the place,

where the electric flow

of fluorescent light sinks in.

I like to watch people

going to and fro,

under the moons

ancient magical glow

 

I wear a novocaine smile

like my teeth have been pulled,

my mind lulls

my thoughts into sleep,

Empty and dull.

I listen to the call.

The city, she sings to me

to walk her concrete caverns,

feel the pulse race

upon asphalt veins beneath my feet.

To sense the essence

of life that never stalls

 

When my mind is stood on the brink

of the dark abyss of emptiness.

My thinking is a mess.

My opinions sinking into deep mud,

and I'm feeling stuck.

I let the shine of streetlights guide.

The solid ground be the foundation

to my climb. I put one foot

in front of the other

and let the city welcome me

like a loving mother.

 

 


Thanks for reading

Endless Nightmares out now

300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling

 https://amzn.to/42H2OGw

Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle


 

Wednesday, 27 September 2023

The call of the void

 


Have you ever heard

the call of the void?

L'appel du vide.

It plants a seed,

just a snippet of a thought.

but enough to make any more

thoughts flow away in the breeze.

The siren song to endless seas.

The song of deathly nights.

It sings in harmony with the hum,

trying to take your light.

Sever your connection to life.

Cut you dry to wander the lonely tides.

 

It whispers on the wind

whilst the hum grinds you down.

It won't leave you alone,

it will find you in any town.

The void is speaking.

Listen. It demands your ears.

Commands you to hear.

To wilt like a flower,

quivering in fear.

 

The call of the void,

intrusive voices speak to you.

Tell you to do the last thing

you'll ever do.

They whisper to jump

when you are near a high ledge.

They tell you fall, free,

be with them instead.

The voices lie deep inside.

The hum has buried them

in your mind.

 

When driving at night

and you suddenly think,

I can swerve into the traffic,

Just a flick of the wrist

and it will be over in a blink.

Or when stood at a bus stop

and you catch yourself stepping out

into a road full of cars, 

This is the call of the void,

ready to end your life.

Tune out the sounds,

before they tune you out.

 


Thanks for reading

Endless Nightmares out now

300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling

 https://amzn.to/42H2OGw

Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle


 

 

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