one small voice.

One voice
small
supersonic,
caresses the walls
aches for deliverance,
lashes the water of life.

One small voice
chatters,
devours
every ounce,
strength born of pain,
oblivion the reality.

One small voice
drowning,
the meaning of life
crawls back home,
regret to be conceived.

One voice
small
reluctant,
innocence crucified
with the first gulp of air:

chokes on the tears of mother's indecision.

One small voice.

© 2007 Michaela James.

personal ghost.

I see you laughing
I see you cry,
it hurts as
i'm alone in this world
out of my mind
a helpless pain,
eternal..

once upon a time I lived.

I can't get you out of mind
sleep easy
close my weary eyes
if only I could..

watching those flowers grow
the summer sun rise
how I need to feel you,
i'm so cold
an empty sorrow,
can't let go.

I'll watch,
keep forever
your beauty I idolise,
your tearful smile
for me,
yourself and all that's gone
to see you standing there
holding onto what we lost,
trying to touch you
wipe those tears – tears that care.

You know I still love you
and there's nothing I can do
if only there was..

I see you lost inside,
I want to hold your hand
kiss your lips
your skin one last time,
to tell you that it's alright..

so sleep tight my love
without fear
i'm by your side
always here..

your shadow
your angel
your one true love
I promise..

your personal ghost.'

{sympathy's symphony -2006(mj)}

Michaela James.

asleep

Darkness envelops our world
a daily occurrence,
the necessity of life: sleep.

I, myself
toss and turn:
little by little,

survive.

The amber shadows crossing my bed,
the humdrum drone
of clinical silence,
drifting through my lobes.

Counting the seconds
striving for dawn to rise,
backwards they seem,
mesmerising:

to the left dull, digital figures
mocking my very worth.

Tick-tock, tick-tock,
hypnotic yet disturbing,
as my being perspires
the listless breath needling quiet.

My eyes squeezed tight
framing images passing by,
each thought a moment of yesteryear
what should have been and what has not,
animated shadows playing peek-a-boo,
scaring the reality of waking up.

Startled!
I sat up wiping my mouth,
alive and lucid
yet confused as the orange littered my room,
was it a dream?
I think not:

A passing pause occurring
fooled my being,
the clock displaying five past three,
lost for a moment
indulging de ja vu:

again.

Faces seep through the cracks of the walls
laughing at my deprivation,
toy with the sanity I once had,
and the yearning for peace,
the place of pleasant dreams.

Each night I feel the world's burden,
happy thoughts swallowed by the paranoia,
that this is it:

the final journey of my meaningless existence,
an inconsequential speck of dust
falling through time,

asleep?

enough is enough.

© 2007 Michaela James.

sleeper

Images I can’t portray
put on paper
or bring myself to describe,
fear
guilt
pain :
unease with myself.

Jaded memoirs
soothe
yet fill me with turmoil.

I’m in every picture
song
written word,
within the flicker
a flame
a teardrop falling
memories
belonging to no-one.

I can see through the mirror
beyond what is real
as though I walk without care
fear.

I feel..
hate
shame
love
quiet unease

sleeping with pain.

To you I’m handsome :
look closer
deeper,
unworthy of any life,

a sleeper

trapped like the flame
the tear
aching to be released.

Born

longing for my true place
with those I’ve seen
pass away,

life and
death
buried

are my dreams.

I am lost
the child’s innocence

lost..

everything that lay here once,

your broken heart
the faded photograph,

my reflection
a shadow in the night
the melodic ghost in the corner of your eye,

voice of an echo passed.

© 2007 Michaela James.

'The meaning of life.'

'The meaning of life.'

Solitary, tears consumed the silence
the clock watcher's monotony broken,
grains meticulously dripped
single file
slipped thro' God's fingers
faster than he imagined.

With no more answers
the moment arrived,
in full view of an unsuspecting world
he appeared:

full splendour with
a wry smile,
we fell to our knees while
others ran.

His wounds
oozed a fading power yet
sucked dry pleas that rode the east wind,
ripped thro' every meaningless notion
that bore a poison fruit.

For all those who believed

taken.

Gorged upon:

the last supper.

sympathy's symphony.

© 2007 Michaela James.

The Dispossessed.

Raging across the face
rivers of history,
fables furrowed
without voice

alone.

Secrets untold
preserved for the unborn,
heavy heart slows,
pauses one last time

stopped.

Clutched in hand
a piece of paper,
blank yet lined
controlled by naked eyes

hidden.

Empty lives court
the desolation,
the passive mind disintegrates,
lost are the tales

corroded.

Michaela James.