Category Archives: Poetry By Woodsy & Amber

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {9} ~ Tussling

Buried beneath the suppressed debris, swimming, tussling to grab onto the wooden plank of order and hold on tight for dear life,
squeezed through holes smaller than my soul is ready for.
Sucked into vacuums too sticky for me to leave.
I’m split now, into fragments of the thing I was,
not sure which small reflection to chase
when none of them call my name anymore.
Pure fragrances of the young soul echos, steaming off glass condensated windows, once rose-tinted, now on a spectrum of grey.
We should all be fresh,
ready for the springboard, always –
not these
wizened, broken, withered things
that weep with dreams which need a taste of forever to unravel.
Yet I can’t tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like.
Hoping you’ll catch the feeling like a kite,
run with it,
turning your soul on something real…
Discovering the footing to hover over steady ground, detached from suffering, yet, involved in the transforming of it,
grounded and
laying on a bed of foundations.

By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {8} ~ Navigation

Zombies, automaton vehicles subconsciously drifting about the dream of the day,
awaiting the next quick fix;
do we ever stop to question our existences,
who we really are?
Motioning animals with somewhat higher consciousnesses, few question the depths of the abyss,
Staring into it, in paradoxical terror and bliss.
When does the walk become the glide?
When does the soul begin to swim,
with manta wings
and precious, half-known tingling things?
Is this what we chose?
Past choices culminating into the present state when we arose?
Does our free-will allow us to chose different timelines?
Or is it all written in the stars, determinism,
has it all happened already?
Deja vu. Reality is distorted.
Do I want some semblance of a chart
to map me through these broken stars?
Some sextant,
calibrated to a butterfly wing?
Some crystal compass,
aimed at the waves beneath my heart?
Those who felt the music, each flutter of the wings, would dance,
to the others they would appear crazy;
yet to those who heard the music, they could now see,
not a care in the world would knock them off their destiny.

By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {7} ~ Smothered In Unarticulated Hidden

Hallucinating of a realm where no psychopaths run the spheres,
Snapping into sharp reality,
So many people telling me who I am, what I need –
so few souls hearing the noise and the silence,
and me,
caught like a bubble in-between.
Compassion is past it’s sell by date, don’t worry, it’s already been stamped out,
swirling around a plug hole, feeling the suction of the water yet coming up for air and afloat.
I’m scared to speak anymore, with every word analysed
so that you can second-guess what you think I feel
without having to touch the messy, morbid truth
Numbed and burnt words left unsaid stir this unknown presence,
fire scaring my insides,
swallowed irritation, suppressed, smothered with hidden, unarticulated feelings at what could have been.
If we really were the warriors
we like so much to play,
could we not just fight the things that hurt us?
The ties that bind to things unkind?
Instead,
we store such poison in these tears.
Hiding behind “the holding it all together” face,
Breaking down, the hero archetype dissipating, the role changing, the actors switching, here we are once more.

By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {6} ~ The Long Fall Drifter

These once familiar walls, now closing in, the blurred lines are running thin
Want so much to fall away, feel a free thing not quite catch me
Hurling through the depths of the earth, hell has basements, when you think you’ve reached a floor, a trapdoor swings open
Steals me again and again –
out of this me
I wanted so deeply once to be
Whispers of should, could, would, echo within chaos and order

I want to stand, feel the splash and taste the chime –
the stream between fingers and mountains and stars ripped open through the storm.
I want to stand,
even here, behind the rain.
And feel alive, become the storm that whips up around the sound of crackling thunder
Lightning that lights up the atmospheric scenes of life, a looped tape on repeat, a cassette tape jammed inside the mind of a drifter.

~Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {5} ~ Devil’s Playground

Banging skulls against ever shifting quantum strings of walls, chasing after my own shadow, cyclical cycles of oscillations betwixt fuck this and screaming.
It’s fuck and it’s fuck and it’s fuck this again! …lying where a kinder thing once lived
Tension bubbling within the psyche, isolation – breeding a playground for the devil to play
So everybody…

Forget how to hug,
how to hold…

Learn how to wear a set of values on your forehead,
light them up
like headlamps made of righteous rage…

searchlight labels
to seek out and destroy
and die in the tiny, silly fight…

While everything you really wanted to be
stands shattered
in a tide of jagged words that’ll never translate you

The devils work is run amok, amphourous webs snarling into nightmares

~By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {4} ~ The Tragedy Of Ghosts

Reverberations of a ghostly moment in time slipping between worn out generational fingers
Much like a sadness, wrapped in snow, drifting where my words used to be
Cradling the ephemeral fantasies of the mind long gone and long exaggerated
If I could feel these waves and be, like before my life stole me
And through the metamorphosis a comedy became a tragedy
Leaving me to crumble, burn away among these labels, thrown in my face where smiles used to be
Chained and strangled by these confined labels, hiding the true essence behind our given masked selves
Nowhere to go but the noise, stinging where a private silence used to sing and hug my soul
Whisperings of the ancients call, yet blurred lines block their entry by the whipping up of storms from the ant nest of modern civilization
I nearly died today, just from listening, and a small star lies dead in the wake of what I would have said back
Ponderings of floating souls, hearing the call yet not able to escape the quicksand of black holes.

~By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {3} ~ Tattered Silence

Would it have helped?
To have had some deep-sewn language in common,
to have walked in each other’s lines
rather than falling between them,
scraping our broken,
tattered souls
on the splinters between how you see the world.

How fluently we could talk
if you knew the heart that lives here,
rolls down hills
that none of your words
have thought to climb.

Isn’t it a curious thing to be seen and heard,
to find the one who gets you,
who walks along the broken cracks and dances
between the abyss
of crevices and broken keys.

No sound emerges –
not even rain,
bell-like and fugitive
through the piano of society’s symphony.

It’s more than broken,
more than lost,
this song
you just weren’t playing anymore.

Silence speaks a thousand words,
without uttering a sound.

It’s simply a darkness
and a light,
rarer than precious gemstones
and harsher by far
on those delicate eyes –
harsher to see
and harder to find.

~By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {2} ~ How They See Us, But Not Who We Are

Funny.

There is a place in all this where you feel somehow more human than anybody…

right in the middle of a sentence from which all reference to your humanity has been removed.

You know the texture of it,

the taste of it on tears,

the yearning that keeps you holding desperately on to something undefined

and borderlined –

fences beyond which you know there is only wasteland.

The last human thing at the far end of the galaxy,

weeping for a second chance at stars.

They’d kill this place if they knew it was there –

a ghost in the machine,

reminding us what was lost.

Rounding us up as if like cattle in rows and lines..

For injections, in supermarkets and in white-washed, numb health facilities

It’s as if we lost our sense of humanity and what this essence and purity means..

A cosmic blip in time of an exsistence, walking down the city streets..

No one seems to smile or acknowledge eachother anymore

Hearts sink to the ground..

Apathy chills to the bone..

It’s as if some far away place gravitates and spins,

A home far-away, a planet full of warmth and love seeks out beyond the atmosphere

Love yearns to find a home

It tries to settle in this place but no matter how comfortable it is made to feel, nothing seems quite right..

Is it heard what is being said? Or do they already have a pre-programmed response conjured up in their mind?

Listening to muffled sounds, undefined

Band-aids are slapped onto the muffled voices

They think they’ve given us choices..

How they see us..

But not who we are.

~By Woodsy {WoodsyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry By Woodsy & Amber {1} ~ Unwritten Soul Fragments

If I could lift your fingers,
show you the ice where my page froze
and swing a little pirouette,
catch you falling
through the sting of soft things…

paradoxes catch the fall in their duality
the funny thing about the heart is, may it be so that a soft heart is a strong hard?
yet a hard heart may be a weak one?
this beaming life vessel feels sunken in from all the winds of life’s endurances
blankly staring at my page

I can only speak for my own scars,
forged in an anger that screams into words
and glowers over silence.
I can only speak for the rawness that will not let go –
the courage of the vulnerable, hunting for worthy words

misty eyes scrambling to see through the fog –
how can I know what you feel when all I have is my experience to relate
most go through life judging their fellow human family through tunnel vision
concotions of confusion with muffled voices

So tired of what is written,
I find myself diving between,
sailing the spaces, the pauses –
safecracking the combinations between chapters
and running away with a small piece of unwritten soul

This fragment of soul stills the perpetual cycling of the mind’s cogs and finds that treasure warping open into the next door.

By Woodsy {WoosdyDotBlog} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~