Dance of the Dead

The dance of the dead is calling to me.

The music is so enchanting that I seem not to mind the joyousness that I would leave behind.

The utter restlessness I always feel seems to be pleased with the dance of the dead.

The drum’s dreary rhythm seems to overcome my heart and ransoms my soul for a state of euphoria.
Like a star above, prisoner and lover of night,
I am left suspended in time- neverendingly numb.

With a whirlwind of emotion, I am trapped in the beat.

Locked away from the world. 

Lost in another dimension.

Slowly, the music enraptures my body devouring all my false implications.

It opens my eyes to that of the purest beauty beheld by the world.

Some events caused by sin seem to withhold some consecrated vows unknown to living souls.

Unknown to those breathing,
the dance of the dead is a never-ending invitation to the final frontier.

The rhythm is the key. 

Fascination is the method. 

You stand before ready to unlock the door.

The event is the ending unwinding to an entirely new beginning of eternity.

The rest is left open to what you desire.

All that remains is open and untouched by the enchanted dance of the dead.

©2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Scorned

Deep betrayal born from burning sin.

Yet you wonder where my forgiveness has been.

The broken heart that you have caused has bled.

All that is left is the vindictive mind that you now find.

Stand before me at your own accord.

My actions strained by my pained plight.

The world that you thought was nothing more than yours

has grown cold form the loss of your touch.

I look away.

Anger and sorrow replay each day.

Without you, an empty hole do I find.

No scream that I share seems to ease my despair.

The ties of our love left in ashes by your lies.

The pressure within my chest gives me no rest.

How could you?

With no reason did I give to you.

Yet such betrayal did you slap across my face.

Dead and lonely you intended to leave this space.

Your betrayal.

Heartache leave.

Anger I now plead to as my motivation.

My life tomorrow will be my salvation.

For me, I will heel. My heart shall reopen.

For you. Alone. Your lies and misconstrued life.

You will remain.

Blind to the pain. No light will you find.

Anger be gone.

No more time on you shall I waste.

For you, I pity. I replace.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Step by Step Imagination Brings Life

Dark lit trail.
Overgrown. 
All alone.
I run along.
I wonder where I belong.
The stars above twinkle light.
They help me with my hindered sight.
It is the mystery of life that comes alive at night.
Under the marvelous moon, a gentle mist covers my sweat-drenched body.
Ignition.
My imagination.
Up above I gaze upon wistful dreams and constellations.
With every step, I feel my anticipation.
My desires.
Magnification.
Stet by step, I move along.
My concentration grows insane.
Need for dedication.
It is why I train.
The humid air.
My lungs scream that it is not fair.
Deep set sense of heaviness.
Surrounded by nothing but quietness.
Again, overgrown.
This path makes me feel so alone.
But alone is where my ideas take flight.
Breath by breath.
Heavy step by heavy step.
Confusion lifts.
Clarification sets in.
My hope for tomorrow begins.
Creativity wins.
As the end of my run brings life to my not yet spoken dreams.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill

Hypocritical Political Official

You protest so loudly against the rest.

Except the screams you yearn to shout remain locked inside.

The message spoken but not received.

Your simple battle has started the war.

False courage plagues your heart.

You leave your convictions as weak as a brittle branch during a storm.

Your fear lies hidden behind glass walls.

You judge others so harshly while you find countless excuses for your own mistakes.

You claim to fight for the greater good.

Yet your compassion for others comes up so short.

How clouded is the mirror that you use to look upon yourself?

How little light you let into your life.

Like sunshine breaking through at dawn,

Retrospection will bring light to your deception.

Words were resisted yet words were still given.

Your mask of polished, unshaken confidence trembles with the instability of your conscience.

Sit sipping your tea.

Your pretentious points conflict with your own precious party; don’t you see?

Ticking clock.

Your anxiety will continue to increase.

That is what comes with such dishonesty.

I let it be because my smiles were finally so serene.

Truth in hand I felt so grand.

But rights refused now leave me less than amused.

I will learn to step past my fears of confrontation.  Fast!

Against the hypocrite, I will myself to now take a stand.

Before me you stand.

Fake, blank face in hand.

Freedom exists in my right and love of expression.

Irony exists in your moral suppression.

Decisions made.

Words will help me to stand tall.

Words will be what cause you to finally fall.

© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill