Satan’s red anvil has been left on my chest,
and with vehement restraint I withhold my disgust.
A betrayal of faith and your pawn to become,
you will soon hear rendition of our fat lady’s song.

Little boy, last born and instigator of pain,
I guarantee you will suffer from this – your own mind-game.
The lines you draw boldly with your fury-filled fist,
are blurring under the crumbling weight of your tryst.

This is going to implode on itself by dint of decay,
and only your blurred vision will see you finish this your way.
There are no more white flags for me to want for– or from you,
your malice makes me know I’m done with this shit, we’re through.

Don’t ever forget how you fueled this poison and my disgust,
as you claim back your septic weight from off my chest.
A betrayal of faith, you’ll wish this pawn be sooner gone,
as you try block the chiming of our fat lady’s song.


© Dylan Balkind


(Open in a new tab to listen while you read – It Rains In The End)


There are places with heartbeats in memories I’ve forgotten,
ways that this gift is polluted by the mundane and the rotten.
There are people I try to think like and impress on these days,
and in so lose sight of my light on this Milky Way.

I lose patience. I forget the inner. I misplace the magic and the wonder,
and everything-me that I’ve built up gets smothered and washed under.
I separate from the Intelligence of Strength and Love in Poetry,
while I ask for permission to play on their playground of alien-symmetry.

Unblock. Unblind. Unconstrict and see,
this planet and how to live with glitter inside its periphery.
It doesn’t take a long time to become the person you want to be,
but a headless chicken ‘till I know it, lost in unscheduled purgatory.

There is no braver beauty than what lives in your mind and your soul,
a dynamic that can slay that which makes you feel anything less than whole.
The real way to add value starts with how you see what you see in the mirror,
marinated in how you realize your passion and the allure of your splendor.

It is your own enchanted mind that creates your comedy and your tragedy,
which makes wrestling with your darkness seem such a terrible waste of energy.
Imbibe power from the view of places you thought only God could see,
and acknowledge that recognition and feedback is just your own lock-and-key…


I know that the path ends and begins with where I am standing right now,
and that this is truer than true when I see that I know how…
To unblock. To unblind. To unconstrict and to see,
this planet and how I am living with glitter inside its periphery.

© Dylan Balkind


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