Eternally Grateful

This is me striving to articulate

With a clarity my voice cannot pass.

This is sentiment I wish to express

With the ease and lack of distress

Of either this line or the last.

This is me applying repetition and rhyme,

To project my pondering to your eyes.

From my hands to your shifting gaze,

I aspire to contrive clandestine praise

With shy scribbling and surprise.

Dearly, I wish a life of happiness,

And joy to you for all your days.

I wish tiny treasures inflate your world

So you may never come unfurled—

I hope your laughter never strays.

I am stumbling—fumbling upon—

The right letter combination to state…

That I hope, when blue skies fade grey,

You are soon met with a sunny array—

Fortune—to share your smile’s weight.

And if there is a path you wish to walk,

A hidden grove, through which you start

To trot—I hope you see it fit,

To follow your true desire—commit—

To the voice from within your heart.

This is me anxious—proofreading—

And preening the passage that I have yet

To pass, and in essence admit—reveal—

I hope your life is kind…I feel

Eternally grateful that we have met.

    DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Slipping Sands

We are mortals with misguided reason

For hopelessly hoping and hording beliefs.

We walk with heavy feet—we prowl—

In our darkest hour, ear to dwindling howls—

The night is our blackened season.

Beneath our beds, the demons claim,

And flicker signs of haunted beings.

We do our best, with human hands,

To forge happiness from slipping sands—

We romanticize the fumbling flame.

In our hearts we are self-centered

And selfish—we are a step away

From being evil and abhorred—

Altruistic desire will be ignored—

If the path is never ventured.

     DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com 

Strangers

One night, I sat, and felt as though

I had been twisted inside out—

My heart had been plucked,

And punctured—it had been

Horded and misplaced,

And I pondered upon serendipity,

As I chuckled coyly.

I wondered of the strangers

Who walk with uncertain struts—

Faltering gazes lead to bashful ruts,

Shoulders brush and heads become

Carefree—filled with needless luck.

I learned a lesson, of nothingness—

To remain blank is surely best.

And bitterly I began to pace,

Back and forth as I failed to reminisce

The exact reason of my heart’s escape—

The reasoning behind my chase,

The inner voice, leading me astray.

Humbled in the way of the fool,

I remain, a forcefully empty page.

     DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Demons

I sat down, for dinner, with my demons

As they circled the circumference

Of the oaken table of their choice.

They picked my brain and pounded

Me with insipid pondering—and spoke

In soothing tones whilst whistling

Through their ghoulish grins.

They knew of the exact words

That drove my being—could distress me

And cause a disastrous irking.

The food was bleak, grey slop

That they thought I should be fed.

They gallivanted hither and thither,

With jovial jabs every now and then,

Fitfully, at my expense. Monsters!

They asked me questions I neither

Cared to answer, nor wished to consider—

For the fiends dehumanized me and

Stole a piece of my being. They

Convinced me to steal them secrets,

And sacred stories I should not,

Under any circumstance, have be hearing.

Those vile creatures captured me,

With their whispering and foregone tales.

They covered me with lesions and forgot,

At the dinner table, to serve dessert.

      Dannyetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Worthless

I have met no man on this earth

Who does not crave for respect

Or yearn to be loved and to give

His heart, truly, in return.

I have not yet found the figure,

Who fights against the feeling

Of being led astray so completely,

That they would not give their safety

For the chance to remain whole.

Neither a soul was born to wish away

Life, or love of any kind—

Nor have they’ve been bore

Into the shadows, with a darkness

That swallows them whole.

No entity is woebegone from birth

Or has to be told, of the carnal joys

That circumnavigate the earth.

It is through teaching, malleolus

Thievery of youthful vigor,

That children begin to question

Their worth—their contribution.

I’ve met no man who does not

Desire to smile and feel giddy

Beneath their rusted bark.

      DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Lay Me Down

Lay me down, so I can see—and be

Befuddled, a mess, and afraid to wake—

Drag me down and heal all wounds.

Wake me up and show me how to live.

Take my blood, take my lust and

Hold my head underwater so that I

May feel fear—a fervent awakening.

Show me how to mistrust and sneer

At divine awaking—I want to dabble

In stupidity and necromantic similes

Of my own inner distrust and rude rekindling.

Let me rest, and mediate meticulously

In the art of feeling nothing, being a

Blank slate bore with no desires,

No wants, wishes or woeful bickering.

Lay me down, and be the entity that

Heals the poor, the rich, and the diseased—

Heal me! So I may be—oh, can I be—

Carefree and unstricken by melancholic luck.

      DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com