Screaming out to Feel

Screaming out to Feel

Pacing the floor in quickened expectation
Waiting for another new ink to prize
Nervous and glorious all at once
Head a spin for fight or flight

Sitting in the chair, skin bared to all
The needle buzzes, pain awaits
Skin tightens as the needle descends
A sudden explosion of pleasure and pain

Why do we mark our bodies so
Why do we strive to hurt this way
To momentarily stand out and scream
Just for a second to know that we live

We live our lives with muted senses
Surrounded by others expectations
All the while screaming out to feel
Wanting to explode into this world

In our failed attempts to be different
In our mission to be seen in this void
we ink, scar, pierce and brand our bodies
Only to realize that we are all the same

Then to realize that we all hurt
that deep inside we are all hungry to feel
the pain, pleasure and ecstasy of life
Then we scream out, but at least holding a hand

Written by the kilveyshaman

Another Poem – Master(less)

I just had a yearning to write this poem, its not amazing, probably quite crude to be honest,  It took me all of 15 minutes once I sat down.

For those that know me I am not into BDSM (look it up) But through world experience I have talked to a few and been involved with people that are into that scene.  They would probably all call me vanilla (whatever).  However I needed to write this poem, once the urge is there there is no denying it, and it is also for some reason how I feel at present….

Master(less)

In a candle lite room she hides,
Beneath smooth silk sheets she abides.
Her soul has disturbed her from her slumber,
Craving rising for something more limber.

Her eyes look into the darkened corners,
to the shadows of sculpted men.
Her eyes first scrutinize and then delight,
As they settle upon he that feels right.

She blows him a kiss as his head rises,
The shadows recessing as he approaches.
He picks up the gossamer chain that binds her neck,
Attached to a silver collar warm to her skin.

Passions rise as the two entwine,
Hair grasped, breast cupped, arse spanked.
Bodies drenched, muscles fatigued, chests heaving,
Finally they lay still.

Then chains appear, spider spun thin,
bondage she yearns as her body aches.
More and more chains appear,
body aches more, soul yells out.

Too many, too soon, too wrong,
The chains fall heavy upon her.
Weight crushing her down into silk sheets,
Fingers stretch out, breath escapes, panic sets in.

Their eyes meet, his concerned, hers in fear,
His hands reach out and lift the chains.
Dragging them back to the shadows once more,
Her body sags as her panic relaxes.

She looks for him once more wondering why,
then laying there slips into sleep.
as dreams creep in her lips whisper,
‘maybe another time, maybe….’.

written by the Kilveyshaman

The Celtic Light Parade

I wrote this poem a long time ago, in another world and another job.  I had helped to organise the very first celtic Light parade in the St. Thomas ward of Swansea as their Community Development Officer and wrote this poem in celebration of that event for the local community newsletter which I also had helped to set up as well.

The Celtic Light Parade

Families leaned in awe against their garden walls,
As the procession went past with candle lit balls.
Each lantern parade was boldly announced,
Drawing more viewers, even babies, who bounced.

In Maesteg Park did the processions met,
To look upon this sight was a treat.
A circle of living light did the lanterns create,
Their bearers waiting for events to placate.

Arabic dancers jingled their bell belted hips,
As men looked on not a word on their lips.
A juggler of flame entertained one and all,
Children stood bedazzled by the sight of it all.

More young ladies, street dancers, they claimed,
Entertained the onlookers to much acclaim.
The night wore on and people departed,
Reluctantly dousing their hand crafted lanterns.

Little babies, heads nodding, asleep in prams
Were gently guided home, as they dreamed on.
If only for a moment we could see their dreams,
And look once more upon those candle lit balls

Written by the Kilvey Shaman

The Valkyrie and the Bear

This poem has been bubbling up for some time and I just needed to write it down. I hope you all enjoy it, it means a fair bit to me for reasons undisclosed, but then most of my poems do…….

The Valkyrie and the Bear

He lay there in a shroud of fur, brown and grey with age,
Resting in the cold night air at the entrance to his lair.
The heavy embrace of the rock offering him protection,
content with his lot in life, living in a stupour.

Occasionally his eyes look up and gaze upon the stars,
As he wonders what they are and why he yearns them so.
Grizzled jaws with escaping vapours let out an eternal sigh,
Eyelids growing heavy as the aging bear retires.

Rising up from his sleep, a distant noise disturbs,
The gentle but insistent flapping of some feathered wings.
Dreary eyes open up and look up at the storm,
Watching with fascination as the black winged valkyrie flies.

She settles down upon the earth, her ebon wings enfolding,
concealing in the darkness her ivory body shaking.
In a brief unprotected moment she gives herself to grief,
And cries her tears into the rain where none will ever see.

The bear disturbed by what he sees rises off his hounches,
And with deliberate but ponderous gait sets off in her direction.
Startled by the disquiet undergrowth she lifts up off the ground,
To look into the deep dark eyes of the grizzly bear.

She hovers there upon her wings, gently flapping in the rain,
Her eyes locked with his and wondering why he stares.
Moments pass without a move, until the bear decides,
His hounches down, his eyes soften and then she settles down.

Her feet caress the ground beneath, all sodden in the rain,
As she circles around the bear, no danger to be found.
Then she talks, her voice angelic, of her troubles plently,
As the bear sits and watches, wisdom apparant on his brow.

She does not cease and does not care and does not understand,
Why she stands and tells this bear of her fears and woes.
Her darkest secrets all exposed and vulnerable to him,
And yet he sits and nods understanding every tale.

Days and nights start to merge, blurring in the background,
As the angel from the stars discourses her inner feelings.
The bear content to listen to the music her lips create,
compassion dawning in his grizzy brown eyes.

Then he starts towards her, his fascination rife,
Paw outstretched to touch her wings, to prove her no delusion.
In startled shock she turns and flinches, his outstretched claw grazing,
Into flight she suddenly lifts, leaving only scattered feathers behind.

The bear stands there all confused, wondering if she burst,
Perhaps she was just a dream or a fantasy unreal.
So once more he lets out a sigh from his grizzled maw,
And steps along the muddy track once more to his darked cave.

His eyes close as he starts to fail, sleep his only aim,
As the Valkyrie on her perch looks down upon his form.
Then she sheds another tear confused by what they lost,
Then lifts up into the storm ridden sky never to return.

The Kilvey Shaman

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Unseen Friends

I wrote this poem last year for a close frined of mine, Tamsin. Unfortunately we have grown apart it seems over the last 6 months or so, Something I should like to rectify soon.

Unseen friends

Two spirits that found each other across the void
Two star crossed lovers in another life
Two damned souls that cry out to each other
Two stars that spin in each others grip.

All they have is a longing to be seen
And exchange their loves, fears and pain
A desire for just a brief moment to touch
Assuring each other that they will survive

Maybe one day fate will draw them together
Misty eyed their souls will connect
Mixed feelings and confusion will abound
Mustering the courage to finally talk

So far fate has kept them apart
Sometimes they have almost brushed
Some may think that fate is playing
Some futile, silly and painful game

Inside their hearts they have already touched
Inseperable they are, as friends eternal
Igniting hope in each others dark times
Illuminating their footsteps along the path

Nothing can sway them from each other
Never to talk again is too hard a thought
Naming each other in their souls
Nonetheless they remain as unseen friends

Don’t – A collaborated poem about love and relationships

A friend of mine wrote this one verse poem, which to me is absolutely fantastic, the style for one, and most definitely the way it allows you to fall into the trap so clearly sprung in the last line.

Don’t

Don’t hold my hand in yours
but still look somewhere else

Don’t kiss me on the lips
and tell lies with yours as well

Don’t tell me that you’ll need me
when we both know that you won’t

Don’t tell me that you love me
when you want a jump

Don’t use me as a crutch, a spare,
any port in a storm will do.

Don’t think of me as a back up plan
whilst waiting for someone new.

Don’t think I’ll wait for you forever.
I have done my waiting for you.

Don’t think these words are for you.
You are wrong and always were.

Afer a few weeks of readng and re-reading this poem I had the urge to write the next verse of the poem for her, and offered it to her as a gift, she liked it and so, with her consent, I am placing both verses on here.

Don’t hold their hand in yours
while I look somewhere else

Don’t kiss them on the lips
while I imagine yours on mine

Don’t tell them that you need them
when my heart aches for you

Don’t use me as a crutch, a spare
even though I always let you

Don’t think of yourself as a backup plan
when you have always been my first

Don’t think of waiting forever for them
when I am waiting for you

Don’t think these words are not for you
You fool! they always were!

Now in this second verse it really complicates things as there are two clear relationships going on, the first is from the point of view of the person who wrote the verse, looking at another person and painfully in love with them, wishes that they would even notice them. The other is that of the person they talk about, who, it seems is blindly in love with another, third person, who uses and abuses this person, and the writer of the poem can see this clearly, yet yearns to be abused themselves, just for the recognition and chance of love.

Thank you for writing this Anna, it allowed both our talents to shine.

The Ice Witch and the Shaman

Here is a little poem that, for whatever reasons, has been lurking around in my head all day trying to get out.  Please enjoy it……

The Ice Witch and the Shaman

His breath escaped in a cloud of misty air,
As he walked determined through the forest fair
Furs wrapped tight against the biting cold
Staff held grimly to steady his steps so bold

The village had despaired when first the frost had lingered
Whole crops threatened and the animals feed in ruin
The elders claimed that their gods were angered
Then sent a brave young warrior to seek him out

The shaman after commune declared that he would journey
To find the blight’s source that had left all in turmoil
He promised the village that his skill would be a certain match
To conquer the powers which stood to gain from this ordeal

The setting out had been two nights hence
The shaman now stood before a stream of crystal glass
Agog with wonder at the great trees and flowers
Which stood in frozen silver delight, toes dipped in the stream so bright

The cold bit deeper as he traveled onwards
Until with frost bitten fingers and shuddering breath
He at last looked upon the glacial cave
The hidden palace of ice soon discovered within

Eyes failing he looked upon the beauty within
Crawling deeper, obsessed with the source
Until, finally, with a seeming dying breath
His hand, staff forgotten, touched the throne of light

At last the frigid darkness overcame his mind
As his last breath finally released from his chest
Her alabaster fingers gently touched his brow
Silver and white tendrils slowly encased his skin

She looked down upon the shaman, asleep
Eyes full of pity, stared, bemused
What to do with such as he
The Ice witch did not presume to dare

Three moons passed as she stood and watched
Her power slowly fading, melting away
She kissed his brow as he started to stir
His last visage, her fading away with a certain smile

As he journeyed back, his mission complete
He could not shake those whispering words
The Ice witch’s voice almost musical to hear
Had promised ‘I will return soon my love’

The Kilvey Shaman

(Obviously dedicated to the Ice Witch)

this one’s for Jess

A long time ago Jess sent this message – Hey Gaz, just thought i wud leave you a quick message to ask how you are and when are you guna post on your blog, you keep me entertained.

Sometimes we lose our way. so this post is just for you Jess.

A poem of memories

Just moments ago it seems when first I met this little girl
Just yesterday, waiting for her mother, almost shy she seemed

Each year that has passed I have marveled and wondered
every moment proud of who she became

Since then she has blossomed to become a woman unique
Sure and strong , determined and proud

So where is that girl that once I knew,
still there, of course, just look in her eyes

(And when I close my eyes, I still see
that blue sweatered girl waiting for her mam)

The Kilveyshaman

Blogged with Flock

Cloud shaped dreams

A very short poem that needed to get out of my head for some reason……

Cloud Shaped Dreams

Just lift your gaze up towards the sky,
Let your mind drift with hardly a care.
Soon will those vapourous clouds of mist
Allow your dreams too, very briefly, be seen.

The last march of the virgin techs

The Last March of the Virgin Techs

 

It was a cold and crisp morning as they gathered there,
Nerves and Fear transparent in their stare,
In the shadowy safety of the coffee machines,
They awaited their trainers who were ever so keen.

 

One last check to see if all were there,
They headed over to that very long stair.
Crisp new headsets swung in their dark bags,
As a few more trainees raced back from their fags.

 

The brave new techs descended into the cavernous hall,
some thinking ‘Well maybe it will be quite a ball’.
Seasoned heads raised up at the meat,
that ringing customers would soon find a treat.

 

Standing before them was a strange sight,
A grey bearded man resplendent in kilt.
He grimaced as they all approached,
Deciding just how many would last

 

One by one the virgins were seated,
The looks on their faces were so defeated.
Sabs, Nexus and Onyx logged in,
Headsets ready and coffee cups binned.

 

A neighbouring face looked up from her notes,
and greeting the virgin with a calming smile.
‘Don’t worry your head’, said the veteran so meek,
‘I have already been here at least four weeks’

 

written by the Kilvey Shaman