Poem – “Difficult Places”

Difficult Places

In the corner, a famine of mind
Patiently waits for the situation to change –
The dreams he wastes creep up the walls,
Delusional strings of white datura metel
Creep into the holes in his soul and decay
All the pleasures that he keeps there,
Like murky water spoiling worn-out books

We pass by him slowly, calculating
Whether or not we noticed him dying

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – Ginger Root

Ginger Root

Tell me your treasury of terrors,
I’ll heal you to keep you sleeping
What floats in the stratosphere of the heart
Can never hurt you if you’re never there,
Where they skulk in the endless pit

Nestle down in the belly of the planet
And I’ll make you safe for the first time

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – “In Agony”

In Agony

Tremulous tendons, strung like piano wire
In the valve of the heart of anxiety
Little spectres in agony, fitful dying dreams
When they wake, a field of eyes follows
What thoughts might lie behind that cluster
Of prying eyes, it is what keeps them haunted

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – “No Concentration”

No Concentration

You strive to stay mellow, stay chill
A will all-important, an impossible achievement
When a cacophony’s always storming your way
No concentration, no focus, no cerebral strength
An antithesis of thought, you can’t breathe
Your brothers are so afraid of silence, its phantoms,
That their cowardice might be the end of you

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – “Upstairs”

Upstairs

Look alive, here they come creeping
Can you hear their parade of legs come skulking
Open your heart for the final hour of prayer
Here they come, better watch your little spine
Here they come stalking down the stairs with
Baskets full of heads, lullabies in reverse time
Look alive, look alive,
Playing dead in shallow corners
Here they come again tonight

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – “Anxious, Anxious”

Anxious, Anxious

Trying to entrance myself into believing
That it isn’t a major ordeal at all,
That there’s no needle-teeth lurking beneath
Everything I try to hold in reverence
And it’s not true that it means nothing at all
But it’s a pit of vipers under its skin

Anxious, anxious
I don’t know what’s lying
But I know you mean harm
Underneath your surface
Anxious, anxious
What it is, it never is
All a pit of snakes in waiting

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – “Suspicion”

Suspicion

Shadow against the window,
Shadow framed within the screen
Shadow at the door’s edge
Shadow stalking in a dream

Who are you, I never ask
Who am I to be your vision,
Who are you to be the hunter
Who am I to sense suspicion

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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Poem – “Last Dreamtime”

Last Dreamtime

Sap of blood spun from your branches,
Mother of the vanishing dreamers,
Take me far from here where I shall suffer forever
Mother of the fluid blossom, take me home
I know there are no sacred houses in your hour
And I will be safe from the human judgment
Mother of delusion, there is no organic pain with you
Never more shall I feel my intestine, slowly dying
Struggling to be free from a body of anxiety

©S. M. Shuford 2018
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