Pounding in the chambers of my mind.

My thoughts always seem to travel to where you are,

If you're missing your heart, you'll find it pounding in the chambers of my mind.

My ribcage rises as I inhale a breath to sing your name,

It cries out in frozen embers that catch the cold air's refrain.

Gloom-ed creatures fly overhead,

Their existence tells me this love still lives.

I see you shine just above the clouds,

You are too high to reach down,You are a King, so far above me.

The jewels of your crown are not to be touched by my peasant hand,

For I am below you, I belong on the lowly ground.

I wait for your eyes to find me,

Your pupils to spread over my brow, the hazel majesty of your sight to save me.

I need the warmth of your lips on my head, your hand around my waist,

Your words to tuck me in, remind me I'm alive.

Blush my cheek with yours to remove the image of death from my forgotten face,

Tell me you remember that my love stands out amongst them all.

Don't gaze upon me like a stranger,

My imprint still belongs on your soul.

The thorn of you can not be removed from my flesh,

I bear your scar, I am your reflection.

Fill your hands, wash your face, wake your senses,

Let gravity bring you back down to meet with me.

~by Keila (March 7,2011)



.::*Soul Blinding Poet*::.

Soul blinding poet, eyes rush like the tide

Blood runs thick, bluest is he.

Bring into focus the disillusionment of his tone.

Through a looking glass is his spectrum of thought,

Hard soaked in bitter bleak atonement.

A heart that only beats in the ink of his pen,

The only warmth to be held lies in the words of his paper.

The pride of his poetry sleeps within the bindings of leather scented walls.

Dust will leave dormant each line until a sleeping beauty rises to kiss every word to life.

Wishes for a white washed mind erases any faith of a dream,

Abandoned love takes flight to meet a defying place of gravity.

Existing in the afterlife of unseen reason,

Escaping the crashing lights, bleeding grace, the untamed grip of passion.

He plunges his face into a watered reflection of paired lungs breathing,

Syphoning a last breath before death steals away his love by suffocation.

Wasted blueprints of a mapped out life,

Landlocked from a water's edge of symphonies drinking dew.

Parched mouth, scorned by blistering & onslaughts of words withheld, blooming flowered folly.

Petals fall in arrangement of the name that made his eyes swell to cry crimson,

Ripped from his fingers, this love had to idle, morose and die.

He cut his heart, shaved his soul, tied them up and sent away his fingerprints.

Feeling nothing now, his feet no longer seek the path to know why, Nor-shall I?

It is together now, to death, bury Love-

Wasted mourner's tears on wings of ghosts.

'To End' the poet writes,

'...this foolish suffering.  But, if to love is to be given the name Fool,let it be of greatest pride to call myself thee.'

~by Keila

Painting Your Heart.

(painting & poetic thoughts by moi)

Don't believe the lies that come to rob your fragile heart

The voices of the past that build a wall and stab repeated shame

I see wholeness and delight, feathered prints beyond eyes of sight

All those who love you are wrapped up in your existence-your life

You are beauty and you should know

 Your heart is the most remarkable badge you could ever show.