Melody of Grey

The leaves dance with a sway, a beat to the melodic wind, that
Crescendos with the falling rain drops. Tiny percussion's along the
Surface of the leaves evens to the tone along the roof tops. The
World is still, calm, washing away the everyday grime. As the sky
Smears all tints of grey, the drums of thunder bellow across its canvass
Intertwining with vibrant flashes and streaks that crash like electric symbols.
It is the chorus to the main rhythm, the heartbeat, the four count to life awakening.
From the interlude, to verse, to chorus, back to the leaves catching each flyer from
The heavens, they still dance. The melody softens, the drums fade away, the symbols
Halt, and the wind carries the tune to its conclusion, to redemption, to a new beginning.

Cornell

We were in awe of you, protected by the haven of your walls.
Your exterior provided a place of peace during the chaos the
Infected everything we had known. You gave for us and we in turn
Bled with you as you took the knocks, we saw your torment,
The agony as you drifted alone. But we were there with you,
Traveling the same path of abandonment and betrayal.
We tried to fix you, we repainted your walls hoping to hide the soot
That resided before, and oh how we laughed. You said we were all
That you needed. A triangle of trust, a trinity that could never be broken.
But your windows were never secure, never sound proof. Why didn't you see this?
We were too youg to realize your foundation had cracked and shifted away from us.
We needed you, did you not see? You were our haven, we found safety and calm within
You. But you took us for granted, you found a new trinity and new walls,
And now we are left with the cracked paint and empty foundation that outlined what
Used to be. Yet we still wait for you to return, we still pull the weeds from
The foundation we called home just in case your new one falls through.
We don't know why we wait, we hurt and we flail without you all
Why you stand by the wayside and watch us struggle. But you have your
New trinity, your new three, and a new haven to call your own.
But know, we never forget, never stop hoping because we were there long before
Hoping to always call you home.

Change

Windless, breathless, the rooms wheezes for something
the night can no longer hold. Anticipation mounts, and suppress
as we hold fingers outwards to a movement that will never come.
We know nothing, from the blind to the fallen we sit silently in this
hole. Anticipation spreads for thought, it bleeds for insight when
all is lost in this river of doubt.

The floor trembles as we gasp, its frightening, exhilarating,
the motion of the sound tickles my eye lids and reverberates for
an eternity. This leveling sound of peace, it moves by like a pulsating wave
and settles between our toes. Hope, it rolls over us as the night
seems to shift, and the stars dance between one another, catapulting
from one point to another like rocks across a pond.

Yet we stand screaming quietly with our mouth's wide opened, fist clinched,
and yet motion is halted by conformity, and we press tighter
into our box, into this room. Hope exits with the tides of the wind
and the branches of anticipation that once spread throughout
our veins, now retreats back into this hole where we once lay.
The sight of the could be's leave with the sound of the never was,
and now we sway diligently in this calm night, motionless
as one heart beat fades into another, and the river calms.

J.L. Copeland

Porcelain Dream

A smooth sensation works through my bones,
as the scent of lavender tickles up my noes
and settles into the very heart of me. The touch
of her fingers penetrate and delight, as we
collide with one another, motionless, and serene.
She shutters, and moves across the room on air
hovering over my eyes like a porcelain dream.
The air leaves the room, time has halted, or vanished
into another dimension leaving only us, my porcelain
dream.

I find no inch of comfort from the anxiety
that her presence brings, but comfort is replaced
by an exhilaration of touch and sound, the moist
ruby purse of her lips that slide across mine as I
draw her near me. My hands tremble down her swaying spine across
her silk hair that tickle my shoulders.
She can't be real, she can't be here, not with me,
not this porcelain dream. But as we slide and
shift across one another I block out all the rest, all the
trepidations of incalculable insecurities and
trap my mind inside this moment, this second that
I lie with her. She fills every inch of me, as I breath
I'm entranced by every drop of her. As I close my eyes
I can only think of one thing, my one and only
porcelain dream.

J.L. Copeland

Chasing the Night

Failure hounds my bones
forcing its icy fingers over
the pores of my tattered skin.
I feel the contraction of anonymity
and pulse with the hatred of the
rejected. I can't seem to find the
light, flailing consistently for something
to anchor my spiral. It haunts me,
my hair stands as this shadow stalks
my every move, mocking the light
for which I follow. This hill I climb
shakes with every step and oozes
with condemnation for the fallen
making every step delicate.

How do I press for the light?
This night envelopes me like a blanket
scratching at my eyes and neck. The
precipitation around my eyes make it hard
to find focus. My voice tightens. But I feel the words
of reform crawling over my spine, tickling my
nerves, pressing for movement, action in
a positive direction. I look for this, turn the hunt on
it's nose, and chase this imposture of my fears. I can
not be shaken, I mash my teeth into the bones
of despair and cut out the air. I feel it
in my finger tips, my heart races over the hills
of my anxiety, beating, pounding out the night.
The moon rests in the corners of my eyes, and
I sigh with delight as the sun emblazons
my mind for a new beginning.



J.L. Copeland