Bibliography

  • XXVVIII: Romanticize the Grave (in progress)
  • XXVII: Daemons - 2013
  • XXVI: F r a g m e n t s (part III) The Written Word Is Dead - 2013 (published)
  • XXV: F r a g m e n t s (part II) For the Sense Of God - 2013 (published)
  • XXIV: F r a g m e n t s (part I) F r a g m e n t s - 2013 (published)
  • XXIII: Saints Rose - 2013 (published)
  • XXII: Soul's Haven - 2013
  • XXI: The Paradox - 2013 (published)
  • XX: ICONOGRAPHY - 2012
  • XIX: THE OLD EPITAPH - 2012 (published)
  • XVIII: THE CRYPTIC ALTARS - 2012
  • XVII: Seen Through Different Eyes - 2011 (published)
  • XVI: Cemetery of Garlands - 2011 (published)
  • XV: Lunar Heart - 2010 (published)
  • XIV: PAGES FROM ASHES - 2010 (published)
  • XIII: Little Rabbits - 2009 (published)
  • XI-XII: Shepherd's Gray / Forgiveness in Will - 2009 (published)
  • X: Afterlife - 2008 (published)
  • IX: "From A Melancholy Thoughtfulness" - 2008 (published)
  • VIII: Black Rain - 2007 (published)
  • VII: The Silence Within & Out - 2007
  • VI: Observation - 2006 (published)
  • V: Ethereal - 2006
  • IV: Kingdom - 2006
  • III: The Purpose - 05'-06' (published)
  • II: Follow The Art - 04'-05'
  • I: My Sense Of Compassion - 03'-04'

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Childs Play


I could hear her heartbeat growing inside,
Rising to a movement
She suffers the pain to give a life…

My world is open,
I don't know a thing
A window wide view in the corner from my crib
Of a place not so familiar, but a place that I must live.

My tree was planted and has sprouted out at my birth.
No rings around my bones
No knowledge of things to come.

My youth is just a scar from child's play
What sound do I hear in a dream
Driving in the car far away?
The children they scream in the streets
The sound bleeds out from my scar above my cheek
Taking photographs of motionless time
In remembrance of myself and the way things use to be.

Crying all but in a moment
And never understanding why
Always wondering, but never knowing
That kind of hope will ever be inside…

Did you ever imagine the tree would grow so tall
That you could see it's shadowlike figure in the hall,
Swaying in the breeze across the sun
And matching the sky with whatever weather was yet to come?

I saw it through my window
I saw it but I didn't know
Whether it was you, whether it was me
Nothing can stop us from growing
Count the rings around my tree.

She hasn’t died yet,
The storm of youth has no rain,
So they cut you open,
My sacrifice
And my scar begins to bleed.

Crying all but in a moment
And never understanding why
Always wondering, but never knowing
That kind of hope will ever be inside…

Again.

Alec Wildey - 2007
Black Rain © 2007

1 comment:

  1. Childs play it's deep hidden into self reflection and it emphasis upon what happens behind words, fates, environment....It develops the poet's voice manipulating the whole atmosphere!Very well written.The end of the poem introduces continuous aspect like an echoing despair / decadence of mankind's lost thrill........

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