Fad

Random and obscure, it gathers a devoted following.

Cultists and outliers flock to it, declaring their praise.

From a whisper to a roar, the buzz increases.

Mainstreamed and streamlined, the masses take their fill.

Too much becomes overdone, the well run dry.

Forgotten and neglected, obscurity reclaims it.

By Nicholas Byrley

Fads are interesting creatures. Watching their rise and fall feels like an experiment in social psychology.

Anxious

                                    Anxious
         It is all too much, my thoughts overwhelming.
    They just don’t understand, fear gnaws incessantly.
This should not be way of the world, reality is denied.
        Battered by unseen eyes, I am like glass.
             Everything shatters, it all unravels.
                            by Nicholas Byrley


Posting before work this time. This one isn’t me so much, but I have known people with panic/anxiety attacks. It seems a terrifying thing.

Cold

                                   Cold
      Every decision weighed, emotions controlled.
     Empathy’s warmth denied, self interests served.
    Each move part of a strategy, people only puzzles.
         Unfeeling and uncaring, logics firm rule.
                            by Nicholas Byrley

Written on my lunch break at my second job, from my phone again. Sometimes I feel this way, and I have to double check and make sure I’m not a robot. Anyone else like this?

Pretender

Pretender

I’m an actor on a stage, a performer of a game.

The roles I play always turn up snake eyes, a loss for all involved.

Still the show goes on, encores demanded day and night.

Retirement is not but wishful thinking, death just another guise.

by Nicholas Byrley

War

War
The battle rages endless, lines always drawn.
My heart sits as the prize, the wager my very soul.
The conflict is ever bloody, nothing held back.
Salvation or death, virtue or despair.
All that I am is at stake, the final battle awaiting.
by Nicholas Byrley


Forgive the formatting if it comes off weird. Posting from my phone. As always, feel free to comment.

Hurt

Hurt

There are no stitches for my soul, no bandage for my spirit.

I fear for the actions that can’t be undone, the wounds that run too deep.

The pain leaves me less than a man, a broken thing within.

It robs me of a joyous smile, laughter of real mirth and cheer.

I pray for release and healing, but my lack of faith ties me down.

by Nicholas Byrley

I’ve finally went back to start posting some of the poems I have written over my few weeks of silence. It is a strange feeling to capture the feeling of a moment and then to view it later. I’m not in this place anymore, I’ve long since passed it by. I wonder if this poem then still has relevance then, or if I should even post it. But I suppose these things can stand by themselves.

Off topic, I I hope I am finally done with the storms here in Oklahoma and that I keep my power/cable running. If so, I shall continue to post from my backlog of poems and random thoughts. I hope you all enjoy it and have a good night. As always, feel free to comment.

Self-Inflicted

Image found at www.tumblr.com.

Image found at http://www.tumblr.com.

Self-Inflicted

There are three things born of distress, injuries we inflict on ourselves.

The first is Self-Pity, a poisoned blade ever waiting to strike.

Hidden and deadly, it will eat you from the inside.

From this poison Self-Doubt also flows, wounding you further.

Your triumphs undone, pride and ego are helpless before its toxic might.

The last of this triad is Self-Loathing, the hatred of one’s own being.

It’s a flame that consumes you, leaving tattered remnants of mind and soul behind.

These things lie within us all, waiting for our guard to weaken.

You must love yourself and others, through this they lose their power.

by Nicholas Byrley

This poem bloomed from “Self-Pity is poisoned blade, a sharp and deadly blow” to what you see now. I had fun seeing it develop from that. We go through a lot of things we don’t have to in life, simply by laying it on ourselves. To give up love for pity, doubt, or loathing is such a bad bargain. It is always easier to spot these deals in retrospect, not so easy in the moment. This is just a little of my philosophy, my beliefs. I hope you enjoyed it and that you have a blessed Sunday.