Caged Bird Screams

Caged Bird Screams
By: Tyler Ross

In come the strings playing to my heart
No symphony appears, no other melodies
I'm neither here nor far

From the brink of breaking from these tears
A boundless jail cell of stellar memories spilling hope
like our dreams to fly together, forever

now ending in fear from clipped wings.

My coat is blue and core is bursting in two
An alka seltzer submitted sparked fuse
A squawking frustrated lonely abuse

Hunger pains for her sun’s rays
Melancholy’s tune, a loss sputtering out of control
Falling and swallowing the cold, but forever in love

this cage bird still sings…

Boom!

Unspoken Tangents

Unspoken Tangents

By: Tyler Ross


Claustrophobic, I’m sick

waiting for your walls to sit

Still, a state of mind

I can’t come to grip

Your intentions

Skewed

I feel as if my heart could rip

out of my chest

I guessed wrong again

What’s wrong with me?

I can’t remember a time

when you told me things would be

just fine

I’ve binged

Cynical and walking down these pathogens

closely shoveled behind my selfish grins

A cancer bound like a bomb

waiting to explode

and expose

a self-made injection

from a historical infection

pinned to your perfection

Internal brain splatter

spills in a hundred directions

Rhythm

Rhythm

By: Tyler Ross

Twang, strum, twang & strum,
the true sound of practice

and in that third hour
my pointer finger pulsated like

a door’s slam

on a child’s hand.

Wax On, Wax Off

“Whatever the mind can conceive, it can achieve.”

PMA (Positive Mental Attitude) - Napoleon Hill

Wax On, Wax Off

By: Tyler Ross

Collaboration, he swallows his insecurities

12:30pm, Mara-minded brain attack, slumber

Mouth full, and blockaded by a napkin

Interruptions clanging to utensils, his thoughts keep him asking

This crowded room full of memorable noise

Trepidation, the voices stutter carelessly throughout his leg

Ashamed, he struggles, fighting twisted delusions

A dirty napkin, his excuse to flee another day of illusion

In limbo, the exit door closest to the bathroom

His vindicated solution and path toward an enlightened lifestyle

Meditation and PMA

Sunspot

Sun spot

By: Tyler Ross

There he stood clutching onto essential life fragments as they oozed through the cracks in his fingerprints. No weight or proof of existence, but he believed they formed to fit his quest for resistance. One man, one burden of hope eloped its sacred bond. A breathing, mental hypochondriac spawned, as his eyes closed and for one miniscule moment emotion began to respond. Tears needed, succeeded, and fell to his sponge-like shirt casting an organic personal hell. He searched for light, gaining grain and static in sight fearing a greater shift in plight. Fire rose from his toes up, residing from the foundation. He wasn’t complacent to retrace hints of old banter, when deserted surroundings shattered signs of concrete matter. Dust now the air, vast and heavily reluctant, he tries to scatter. Wisps of panic gather and encourage the embers to dig down into his safety net used to protect how he lived. Skin thickens, and time won’t give with his cold-crusted shield. The heat latches, but the forces yield by a rediscovered will, now a calculated kill. All deals dissolve and both eyes blast rays to the skyline of over-comers like the biggest of waves. Vicious spirals of sapphire, he surfed after the summer, which dated back to earning a man's courage braving inner evils along a windy escapade. A chalked up haze, clearing transformation, now consciously vibrant and illuminated, and his body ignites ablaze. Levitated, reborn, and sustained, he absorbs the fire into his veins. More than a mortal man, he rises higher; belting Earth shifting words into an unforgiving world that left him tattered. A man, we knew used to walk alone.

Metal and Rubber

Metal and Rubber

By: Tyler Ross

I store realism behind eyes

Where frozen life moments can guide

Truth shutters in seconds

Reckoned and maneuvered and finalized

I hang in the balance like a pendulum still

I play with my sights like a kite, chasing them up a glass hill

Windmill Play

Windmill Play

By: Tyler Ross

He burns bright through atmospheric matter

Free falling into passion, a screaming reaction

Letting the clouds manifest a steady ladder

Words won’t gather, for there is no sight of the ground

His hair whips against the weather leaving an aggressive hissing sound

Non-violent, he let’s the birds hold his trust

Thrusts his hands out and accepts the power of the wind’s gust

Not afraid, he opens up his mouth

Spinning in circles as he let’s go down south

No parachute, no wings, a life without strings

Diving, diving, an end supported by no means

An alarm clock buzz, the sound of an interruption

A trampoline bed bounce cushion obstruction

No sweat, no panic, no crinkles to his face

He flicks the light on, but rolls back over with haste

Mumbling, discontent, and mystified

For once in his life, he knew what it felt to feel alive