Raw becomes the plight of my exisrence, only to fade into darkness. (c) Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016 Advertisements
I’m lost in a song stolen by a marred embrace. What withstanding in fold be still a shepherds grave. For when a stipend heart doth cry the winded flail along broken roads, and steal on down the line be told a deal has silken. Shake me down no more. For to fade in to you … More When A Stipend Heart Doth Cry
In the night I scramble for peace, But all ‘tis but mockery voices squawk. Trembling in the darkest hour, I cry out To emptiness brewing inside me, “Why must I prolong this agony em broiling my insides?” “Is there nothing more for my plight to bestow me?” What coffin is dry in all wandering spirits, … More Scrambling For Peace
I’m winded. For you are my captor who Lunges into my soul, And shreds every fiber of my being. I seek to drive out illusion. Where I’m going, there is no rapture. Fever consumes me. Languid tears bubble over. Fog loses its measure. Thunder tempers. Your waters thirst for redemption Where nothing exists. In your … More Languid Tears Bubble Over
Have I ventured to yet travel the long plight Of the sun? No more than my eyes lay in duress. For it is this duress overwhelming soulful kin about their ken in time’s due stake in an artificial scope the heart’s desires sing. Measurement be stern in mindful ways be dialed. However, it is your … More No More Than My Eyes Lay
What is a journey without taking the first step? I’ve been on quite a journey these past few months. Journaling is a must in my day. I started a new job on March 12, 2018. My mom moved back to Kalamazoo after living in Florida for 26 years. I don’t know what I’d do without … More What Is A Journey Without A First Step?
Too bold in eyes; yet, ill in heart, My treasure trove empties in Quake the morrow. You table your truth, a meek desire To fish out a drifter, and break his Geyser. Is there no measure the songs unsung, To bathe sorrows in earthen cavities? Pearls break from their fold, a driven storm Go sunder, … More My Treasure Trove Empties
My whims go creeping, Leaving my heart a flutter. Roaring winds deafen the Silence. Paved heart grows weary By a troubled brook. Sparrow cry out to the Lord, “Can I ask you a question? Why does not the sun burn My heart? Where are lost melodies I used to sing?” Days burn into years slipping … More Deafened By The Silence