To Poe

Drudgery perfumed melancholy,
pacifies me deep – so very deep – into every perplexing
sound or syllable
of every penned
fear ever felt by you!
Like a haunting veneer
of the unforgettable -
like a lustrous stone
suppressed by the sky,
covetous for an unknowing price.
Pounding sneers of percussion fused rain
slithering over violet stained glass,
feeding the creature that lurks within
your most desired pain.
Folds upon folds
of bewitching paranoia
blur all that was seen or seemed
in the constant relevance of a dream within a dream.
Midnight chimes upon this cruel and desolate hour,
unnerving my soul with such fanatical sensations of horror.
Noir colored obscurities
parading on the walls
bringing forth strange company –
such voyeuristic guests!
Paying homage to the man – the poet – who taught me best.
By accepting normality, the less one will frankly ever know
the ingenious cognizance of brilliant Poe.

Rara Avis

A luminous blur
in a fragmented scene.
A self inflicted stutter
in the ear of
a far distant dream.

I stir in my seat
head spinning with nerves
upon his return.
Tears slit my eyes,
bleeding through my words.
Penned passion
through the days
of all that we heard...
of all that we have seen -

You are a rarity
in the illusion of my reality.
You are the inexhaustible seam
that threads our veins together,
my far distant dream.

...And when the sun exhausts all sources of power,
when the crow has cooed his final call,
I will be there,
exploiting my deeds in the eyes of my maker
hopelessly imploring
to return to you,
my far distant dream.

Changing Minds (Lyrics by Skye Lyon, Performed by Matthew Sternstein)

Hush baby child don't focus on the pain.
Feel no need to hide away and restrain.
All those subtle fears that chip away and drain on you...
keep me in the loop.

Hold me tight, throughout this lonely night.
No need for review,
inhibitions left the room.
I'm in a swoon at the sight of your body line
ebbing against the light of the rising moon.

I'm listening to your silent call
and so it echoes on and on and on...
and so it echoes on and on and on...

We are just a pair of changing minds
but babe, never change on me.
Never change, no never change on me
and so it echoes on and on and on...
and so it echoes on and on and on...

We are just a pair of changing minds
but babe, never change on me.
Never change, never change on me...

Changing Minds (Official Video)

Sweet Field of Clover (Lyrics by Skye Lyon, Performed by Matthew Sternstein)

She was a precious gem,
he was the dream within the beast.
My story was a broken saga,
that fell into the devil's reach.

I thought the love I found
was mine alone,
but a shadow crept from under me.
Stole the house that became my home...

Oh, can't you see?

I cried to the sky above,
the stars all painted black.
The only one I found
would never come back...

I cried to the sky above,
the stars all painted black.
The only one I found
would never come back...

Fighting never made sense,
I let you just float along.
No matter how much I would dream of us,
my heart is where you never belonged.

Now I wander the roads
aching in silence.
Glaring into a shattered glass,
searching for some drunken guidance.

Two years later,
I have you to remember.
A laughable ending
to a cold December...

I'm no stranger to this reality
nor the sweet field of clover.
I found the one.
I found my only.
The troubled key,
for a defeated me...
for a defeated me.

I cried to the sky above,
the stars all painted black.
The only one I found
would never come back...

I cried to the sky above,
the stars all painted black.
The only one I found
would never come back...
 

Blue (Lyrics by Skye Lyon, Performed by Matthew Sternstein)

Your choice is made but is somewhat blurred
and all your laughs morph into sultry burns.
Helpless and scared, I want to hide
believing your madness died inside.
I try and try to runaway
but your love, your love, can't seem to fly away
from me.
From me.
From me.
From me to you was all I knew.
Lord, I prayed it wasn't true.
After years and years of all my wasted tears,
cascading into mountains of newborn fears.
Countless pleas I sent to you
are now splattered with ink, hued in blue.

From me to you...
Lord, I prayed it wasn't true.
Helpless and scarred, I want to hide
believing your madness died inside -
but your love, your love, can't seem to hide away
from me.
From me.
From me.
From me to you was all I knew.
Lord, I prayed that it wasn't true.
After years and years of my wasted tears,
cascading into mountains of newborn fears.

I love you.

I love the blue.

Your choice is made but is somewhat blurred
and all your laughs morph into sultry burns.
Helpless and scared, I want to hide
believing your madness died inside.
I try and try to runaway
but your love, your love, can't seem to fly away
from me - to you was all I knew.

Lord, I prayed it wasn't true.

Life & Death: The Lovers

Life, loyal to her beloved, Death

take small amounts of passionate breaths

in between a prolonged eternity.

Their relationship is of a tumultuous kind

where neither her mother, Nature, nor her father, Time,

can intervene through their love’s sincerity;

however,

Death wipes the tears from vivacious Life’s eyes

and explains to her they were not created for such a mortal like prize.

Life abides yet forlorn and left wondering "why",

while Death must always vow to tell his loved ones goodbye.

 

"Of Life & Death"
by Scott Dandson

Jet Black Ink

Love and war. The two stand unbeknownst
to the one who craves it the most.
Entranced by a smile or the flicker of an eye,
can send a marble statue, in its immobile transit, to cry.
A sweet and brutal euphoria in the midst of winter -
gazing upon the moonlight from an airplane, ink splattered pages sparkling with black glimmer.
I welcome him into my life with newly found grace,
hoping he can save me from this mundane wild goose chase.
Some days pass…but this instant compares to no other form of glory,
and so there, laying vacant in the airport terminal began a new love story.

His Whiskey

Maybe it's the way he sips his whiskey,

has cigarette smoke that stains his clothes

with an ashy smell, or the angered grit in his voice that turns me on

to this perfect stranger. A crooked smile with jagged teeth edges

as if from grinding them down to the root.

If only he'd grind my way.

Grind the hostility out of my life...

the pain, the suffering, the melancholy of longing for him.

It's unbearable at times.

He is a constant variable in my mind and in my dreams.

Suspended in the sunshine I see.

If only I could hold him...if only he could hold me.

Talk about all there ever was and all there will ever be.

 

Maybe its his presumable valor and my honor he will defend,

holding the wrath and strength of a thousand men.

A bottle in one hand, my hand in another,

his rambunctious temper and the love letters

he has yet to write me.

The anticipation of our encounter and a bottle of his whiskey,

caught in a landslide, closing the sweet worldly blinds,

flinging the door open and wallowing in loneliness no more.

 

"Somewhere Up North, Caught Down South"
Photo taken and edited by Skye Lyon. 2013.

Candy Coated

Walk with me, to the end of me.

Where the weeds seep and screams reverb down

across the rubble wreckage beneath my feet.

Fall in love with the chaotic fury that engulfs me.

Where heated anger flows out like passionate lover’s sex.

Never vex of cause a hex on what is good about us, babe.

Wait, what was ever good about us? Don’t hold back…

Ink splattered tears stained my cheeks black.

Ruing my melancholy for all those years and

my unborn happiness I will never get back.

Vacantly listening to songs pressed on vinyl,

yearning for those lone hearted desires etched on wax.

Bed sheets painted our arguments mad -

kisses sewn in with candy coated lies were the only memories

I have ever had of you.

Who can blame my surges of madness, when all your lies turned true.

So when it comes down to the fact:

No, my once sweet surrender,

we will never get back together.

"Blue, Little Red"
Ink sketch by Skye Lyon. 2013.

Holocene

Politicians laughed and the poets dreamed,
and our love was showcased like artwork in the Holocene.
I decided to reach out to you, across the Atlantic engorged in blue -
I have so many things I’d like to say
but hesitation has me waiting yet another day.
Writing out all my points to get across,
as I look at the neighbor’s windows turn to frost.
Sifting through all the rumors that were never true...
smoke clears the ashes of our past, us being one of a troubled few.
As your promise to me reflects a gilded hue, the only man I see is you.
Dense mystery cloaks the night as I lay in bed -
God, allow me to rest my tired head.
The grandfather clock casts its devious spell,
with every echoed chime, my prayers all turn to hell.
Our bed is made, the stars are crossed.
A revolution is brewing, babe, and you’re the boss.
Nerves strum across my fragile chest
as I feel his fingers add pressure on steel, cold frets.
Sleepless minutes morph into early morning hours,
he bows before me - I turn my heart away, walking the path of a faithless coward;
but maybe now is the time to shed my fear…“oh, not now, let’s wait another year.”
The inertia in my soul outweighs my desire;
a stick, a match…fire strikes - I watch my hope burn on a funeral pyre.

 

"Good Luck, Kiddo"
Photo by Skye Lyon. 2012.
Kaori Japanese Sushi Bar

Wine In a Coffee Mug

The sun is sinking and is awfully missed.
Cold breezes are for the keeping and lay motionless
in dark hair. Fragile lips count the teeth in a lovers mouth,
and the town elder rests stout in a rocking chair gazing upon what could have been
years and years ago.
Now loneliness is hidden knee deep in a blanket of snow
with each coming winter. As long as we have each other,
babe, spring will lead us back to the moment
when we fell in love. In the midst of autumn’s cusp.
You, my awkwardly beautiful man, wrap your lips tenderly
around my coffee mug - drinking the wine given to me by my mother
years and years ago, under fragmented stars
that we interpret as scattered gold.
Hiding secrets told to me by October’s harvest moon.
Sacred riddles no one will ever know – no, no, no.
No one will ever know.
 When I curl my body into yours, will you tenderly

whisper in my ear…the new daylight rays
will mean nothing to me if you are not by my side.

Only through the insomniac down time, do I learn to shed my pride
 'cause we will all leave eventually,
oh, but darling, nowhere near our “now”.
The boreal lights lull me into your private needs

as they signal us for a final bow…
until tomorrow, my love.

Gossamer Hearts & Primitive Promises

A gossamer gown ruffled with tule,

encapsulating the autumn light and violently

spewing it out into the winter darkness

for lazy eyes

to gaze upon in foolish glory.

Too much beauty to take in.

Too many cowards to bring

back down

and realize a false idol

stands before them.

Believing she is a pagan symbol
to put faith in,

to trust again,

to be that lover
who makes to the end;

however, she is a god
who regresses deeply

into primitive promises,

dwindling into solitude,
paying homage

to her former flame.

Love for a needle that pierces

virgin flesh,

draining the fruit of innocence

from that single incident

when he walked straight into

her gossamer heart
and molded that fervor
that would rip her apart.

She dies of delirium
and uncontrollable greed

for her top priority need.

Her lover succeeds

in stealing that iridescent seed,

wrapping the delicate trophy

like a prize.

Spewing the last ounce

of her memory into the rivets

of a new era.
Together...everlasting,
the stars are alive.

"Gossamer Heart"
Photo taken by Skye Lyon. 2012.

 

The New Native

I learn to run

and eat away at my

inhibitions of yesterday,

as cannibalistic

as some may say.

The natives said it was ok

to forgive those who

have disowned me...

oh, but how they

overtake me.

I learn to keep

all of my foes at bay

as I eat away at my

anxiety...that is what all

the shamans say.

They confirmed there is no way

to seek sanity

as renegade soldiers
continue to

butcher away

at my idleness.

I run from the east end

to the southern bay,

screaming a victors cry

that must be heard somewhere,

heard in the cross hairs

of belligerent play.

I sit in disappointment of

another day

as you rest in complacence

scavenging the bloody bits

of feeble prey...

I say ok...ok...ok, ok, ok

I am done,

so done.

I can't run.

The village does not
believe me?

I am done,

so done.

I can't run.

You cannot hurt me...

anymore.

Found Under Crooked Keys

A note from you was found under crooked keys,
folded in fourths. It was all I had to get me by.
Strange to say, but you’re the only one who opened
my locked door,
swept into my life on a virgin floor.
You were all I had.
An unfamiliar home burrowed deep in my chest
seemed so much warmer than all the rest.
Now I freeze to death under an open sky
knowing with full certainty I could never tell you goodbye.
It seems so easy how you change your mind...
as if you lost track of all this time.
The door slams shut...
the fighting within myself has strained what we once had,
has clouded our minds to what is sane.
You hurt me bad,
yet, I still pray like a pagan hoping you take me back.
My letter to you was found under crooked keys,
folded in thirds. I was all you had,
when you craved your needs.
Do not speak, darling,
I have seen this many times before.
Do not come near me, babe,
you will only leave me sore.
It is hard to see you in the threshold,
dancing alone,
isolating your body from your thoughts that roam.
You saw my kindness as a chore,
bruised my elusive ego
so long ago
but somehow, I do not think
I care anymore.

"The Night Owl"
Picture of Skye Lyon (2012)



1,001 Reasons Why

"Virgo"
Nude drawn in charcoal by Skye Lyon. 2012.

Living along the brink of losing it all

abiding by nature's laws against a wall.

Feeling my body shed warmth with the arrival of fall.

Teasing my senses with every lost brawl -

pathetically escaping your hold with a baby's crawl.

Continuing on through a rigorous haul

by following your every cue...

with the ruin of my safety, even if it is the last thing I do.

You are the only man who ever came by
and gave me your heart with the death of your pride.

Running circles in my mind, it is hard to comply -

with all your demands that have now gone awry.

Griping tight to a 1,001 "goodbye's", sighs, and wondering "whys".

Yelling out a steamed battle cry

from no other place than my own mind's eye.

Following your every cue...

with the ruin of my safety, even if it is the last thing I do.

Reflecting your face along the bank of snow

as my heart collapses with you in your frosted burrow.

Babe, don't you see our future inscribed in the stars of Virgo?

There are a 1,001 reasons why I want you to know...

I love you.

Southern Drawl

A land of frozen hope is my only view from your house, babe.

The mood looks blue through your broken room.

I give away myself today with a rusted jaw

trying to mutter words with a southern drawl

just like you use to do

when you would touch my face softly and say

"I love you".

Yet, somehow I never knew...

somehow just never knew

how much the word "love" meant to you.

The moon has you in its jaded grip,

clenching on to every fear ever feared by you.

Have faith in the words I sip through the straw

because darling matchmaker,

you will not get that far.

Destiny only has one man in mind,

so learn to ease up on your decision.

The choice is mine.

I long to taste the lonely skin I once saw as "new".

Lay here with me tonight,

and please do not disappear with the morning light.

Stroke my hair until I cry

with relief knowing everything will be all right.

"Southern Drawl"
Portrait of a reclining nude in charcoal by Skye Lyon. 2012.

Drowning In A Pool Of Tears

Do not mind me,

just merely drowning in the shallow end.

Scarfing down the water that now encapsulates my lungs,

synthesizing itself with a heavy regret and a lost cause.

The enemy wrapping its cold, damp fingers

tightly around my bruised neck as it transports my

feeble body just above the deep end,

faced up, eyes soaking in the grime of the vanilla sky

that hovers just in range.

I grudgingly breathe in

the last ounce of sanity I can possibly muster

before I surrender myself wholly

to the static glow I see

reverberating off the soiled clouds and browning leaves.

No matter what final efforts...I know I am gone.

Waving goodbye to my routine, star-crossed security,

cinematically fading into the ominous haze that brews

behind me, beneath the water, on tiled floor.

Held captive by a lost love's form of voodoo -

a cursed fate to aqua marine blue -

in a quasi permanent fashion, nevermore.

"Pool of Tears"
Reclining nude drawn in charcoal by Skye Lyon. 2012.

Creating A Shadow

As a kid, and I am sure almost everyone has experienced this,
you are happy all the time for the most part. When I was younger, I was happy.
I laughed at the fancy free butterflies dancing carelessly in the wind outside on the patio,
I smiled at the ocean's roaring majesty at the local beach,
I happily sighed at every person that passed in my opposing direction
with love emanating through their stare.
Now, it seems that I can only reach that childlike euphoria when I sleep at night.
Away from the outside world, looming in my own dreams.
Comforted by the last sight of the moon's alluring beacon of light
that rests smoothly on my bedroom window sill.
Away from the push and pull effect that my unpredicted future creates in my present.
Away from my unforgiving past.
Just me.
Alone in a content state, wrapped like an embryo in my blanket.
Traveling across contrived lands only fathomed by me.
When my eyelids lock hold of the darkness, no one can judge me
and my suppressed primal emotion.
No phantom capable of haunting me.
Even in the regions of my most revolting nightmares, I am untouchable.
Happiness courts with safety when the night takes hold of me.
Unfortunately, as soon as the sun pries my eyes open and I plant my groggy self
firmly on the floor, standing away from my bed post,
a silent pain surges through my heart.

I face the fears, feared by many with the clock's good morning...

Finding Country

I have trailed upon a boundless dirt road,

my veins freeze over while waiting for my neighbor

to return with rations for warmth. To shy away

from winter's frosted form, we gather round a fire that scrapes the grey sky.

My shoes soaked from early morning dew,

towns people troubled with their own angst...debating what to do -

how to continue to survive with the amount

of toil we forgo in this bittersweet life.

Days prove to give little warmth,

nights give way for the spine chilling mountain winds to trail in.

Our morals get in the way of our desired sins and regardless

of what kind of wrong I have done, I continue to long for you

no matter how far. I lock hold to some unnatural explanation

to why you left me - behind an exploding star.

Leaves fall from an oak tree down to my ankles they roam,

as I lurk over that same boundless dirt road,

dying for you to come home.

I just wanna hold you babe, I do not want to let you go

when you are welcomed back; however,

do not blame me for everything you will never know…

Stainless (Co-author Sam Drake, 2011 Horror Poetry)

It was one of those days - I could not tell -

earth and sky became one in bloodstained Hell.

Vengence ran frantic in his frozen vein,

rain trickled from his eyes causing a swell...

living with this woman caused the dogs to

yell. Tattered shards bled from his skin all through -

mouth open but no sound, a silent scream.

Unblinking he stares, eyes locked on the drawer.

The gun inside pleading to be my friend.

A kiss is all I need. Kiss, kiss, bang, bang.

Cold steel pressed to a temple of warmth...

finger curled, eyes ache, this is our fate.

Can it be? Should I even think straight?

As I am about to clean our dark slate...

"Stainless"
Photo takenand edited by Skye Lyon (2011)