death

get busy growing

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

The gates are down,

broken down,

I marched in with

malicious intent

as only humans can.

 

No survival instinct,

pure aggression unwrapped,

punching at your fragile state of mind,

to err is human,

to kill

maim

break

destroy

decapitate 

is GODLY.

 

there is no quick fix,

no fix at all,

for the broken humanity,

that still dances as a saint,

while proving to be the sinner.

 

No dawn will break,

there's no storm passing

which would break if weathered

long enough

unless you count on death,

which is always counted out

but never down for the count.

 

No twilight of peace,

and what a stupid book,

and what a stupid wish.

 

Life is a torrent of lightning,

fire and destruction,

where a tree shelters you

momentarily,

or you huddle with others

sometimes for a night,

sometimes for fifty years

but nothing lasts

and death is lonely.

 

Get busy growing,

or keep dying;

but enjoy it.

A dead connection

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

A dead connection,

struggling to stand on the horizon,

like a dead, hollowed-out metropolis;

once great, strong, and teeming with life

and love,

now thew blood has gone,

the face is pale.

 

Three years,

two,

what does it matter,

when you dance on the scythe

of a midnight sky

alone.

 

Your toes drag,

peeling skin leaving crimson,

on powdery white-blue acrylic skies.

 

The artist's brush paints

and captures a sadness inconceivable

to the human eye

but captured nonetheless.

 

Wrapped hands stop

red red waters of life

from deserting you

in a fight you've lost

for too many years.

a beast and a gentleman

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

I haven't even managed,

to hit my full stride,

yet.

I'm already your favourite beast,

and maybe,

favourite gentleman.

 

The image is broken.

 

The thoughts of me,

and my best moments,

fell from your ears and shattered;

a mountain ridge of memories,

piled on the cold floor,

passive,

on cracked, dry concrete.

 

You're broken,

and I know,

because,

I broke you;

you never had a chance,

or a shot in hell.

 

Don't worry,

dry your comatose eyes,

you're finished but there are,

certainly worse things in life;

not death.

 

I stole your core,

the package of life,

that represents you,

keeps you breathing,

and I ate it gladly with,

my smiling hero jaw.

 

I didn't leave a loiterer,

I fought for my territory,

but you were too strong,

too well-armed for my weak,

shameful,

display of force;

I grapple with inner demons,

that have worn me down for years;

NOW IS YOUR TIME.

 

A train clangs along,

the tracks of your hatred,

a rock on the rails,

shifts the weight,

and the train tips,

ever so slightly,

but not finally.

 

A rusted train penetrates,

a midnight sky of lost hope,

there is nothing else.

Numb floating

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

Numb,

floating,

helpless,

splitting the water,

as I drift,

towards nothing,

significant.

 

What matters?

 

The tears,

touch down,

on paved street,

reeking of asphalt,

and blurry memories.

 

It was never enough.

 

Heels echo,

in crowded corridors,

where the rug tries to muffle it,

and fails miserably.

 

Pressed shirts,

dark pants and ties,

a gathering for a fallen,

cherished and loved one.

 

Pain spikes through,

the numb feelings that,

reside in fractured hearts,

pouring blood into your soul,

swelling it with pain and bruising.

 

Life's not easy,

and every loved one,

eventually leaves,

until you leave them.

 

Cold reality,

and I love you,

don't ever forget that.

 

I hope I don't,

leave you first,

I couldn't bear,

the thought of you sad,

on my unworthy account,

my dearest of friends and loved ones.

 

Times are tough,

and they'll get tougher still,

but we hold hands and heart,

and rebel against death the best we can.

 

That's the only way.

b(e)t(w)e(e)n (t)h(e) l(i)n(e)s

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

I met her somewhere,

when life was happening,

and she was in between the lines,

the only place where I knew how to read.

 

There's a broken piece of the past,

floating around in your distant future

awkwardly lodged into your present;

it brings with it a series of,

ridiculous notions,

a time for,

rebirth brought on by,

death,

a new chance.

 

An old life,

breathes again,

stronger,

fiercer than before,

it's hollowed out,

and the holes feed the fire.

The fake…

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

The lonely hours,

after conversation died,

crawl through my ears;

a vacant, dead space.

 

Something shimmers,

ghosts just out of sight;

a chilling memory,

a phantom feeling,

or a brief hallucination.

 

The quiet hours,

where transport trucks pass,

filled with the tools to stupify a nation,

or the liquid to smother, choke, burn life.

 

The dead hours,

a piece of sanity chips away,

under the chisel of self-doubt,

falling down an endless drain,

leaking with earwigs, sewer bugs,

and all the poison memories

of the ones who got away.

 

Toxic aftermath,

an east-side story with west-side actors,

believe the hype, smoke and mirrors,

it's the best you'll get in the theatre of life.

 

The sound of fake birds thunder overhead,

above all of the fake mustangs and jaguars;

only the crunch of bone and pain is real now. 

the lonely prize

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

A shadow is spreading in my heart,

viral by nature,

an infection feeding off my memories,

swelling my chest.

 

Blood leaks out with love,

while hope struggles to hold on,

a seemingly endless battle

 

I no longer own my heart,

and truth be told,

I haven't owned it in years.

 

It's been sold to the highest bidder,

time and time again;

the person too intoxicated to understand,

and willing to show me the most affection,

a double entendre of failure. 

 

The auction's up,

and the bets are being placed;

an over-anxious auctioneer,

a lonely prize.

 

The neon life;

tweets, posts, blogs, status updates,

friends, music, movies and video games,

sports, jogging, working out, dancing,

poetry,

nothing works for long,

and it shouldn't.

 

Life is meant to be tackled had on,

hit your bruised forehead again,

on the same dull, white brick wall,

from school of old and the office of new,

until you need a release.

 

What release?

none.

 

Create as you will,

nothing will avoid the end,

not even your art can buy time.

the lonely prize

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

A shadow is spreading in my heart,

viral by nature,

an infection feeding off my memories,

swelling my chest.

 

Blood leaks out with love,

while hope struggles to hold on,

a seemingly endless battle

 

I no longer own my heart,

and truth be told,

I haven't owned it in years.

 

It's been sold to the highest bidder,

time and time again;

the person too intoxicated to understand,

and willing to show me the most affection,

a double entendre of failure. 

 

The auction's up,

and the bets are being placed;

an over-anxious auctioneer,

a lonely prize.

 

The neon life;

tweets, posts, blogs, status updates,

friends, music, movies and video games,

sports, jogging, working out, dancing,

poetry,

nothing works for long,

and it shouldn't.

 

Life is meant to be tackled had on,

hit your bruised forehead again,

on the same dull, white brick wall,

from school of old and the office of new,

until you need a release.

 

What release?

none.

 

Create as you will,

nothing will avoid the end,

not even your art can buy time.

The soul sickness

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

I saw you yesterday,

over my shoulder,

in a vivid dream,

you were dead;

symbolism,

surely.

 

The soul sickness,

strikes at me again,

with it's weary eyes,

drained, dead face,

gangly, toxic hands.

 

Deadly,

overwhelming,

it eats me like fire,

my thoughts are ashes,

floating freely on the winds,

thick with change and new life.