Dark skies.


Sat beneath the dark skies I stare

deep inside her heart. She whispers

she will listen, for the sky is really

not so far. I do not make a sound

but listen for the owl, often all I hear

is the past as she growls.

I’ve placed a wish on every star, they’ve

soothed my breaking heart.

I’ve whispered violent silent secrets

on the tail of a dying star.

I’ve seen the soulless echo of darkness

in the night, watched as all the angels

gathered up and took flight. I’ve seen the

devil walking with flames about his feet,

I’ve heard the empty pounding of his

curdled heart beat. I sit beneath the skies

stare deep inside her heart,

and realize for a moment,  the emptiness

ain’t so dark.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Image does not belong to me it can be found on pinterest.



The airwaves are empty.

I don’t want to rise again but I know I have to.

This ground is cold and damp and it is seeping

into me, I am becoming numb, my soul is dying.

The sky is a dark shade of emptiness, the air I

breath gives continuation where once it gave life.

The stars have died and my eyes have forgotten

what beauty looks like. I flip through songs

searching for the lyrics that beat to the same

tune as I do, there are none, so I search again

the airwaves are empty. The silence echoes my

emptiness twanging against the iron bars.

A smashed light bulb above my life, fragmants of glass

litter the ground and like an expert I tip toe through.

My wounds have long bled out and become the ink

in my pen, even that now runs dry, congealed and

scabby. One song is replaced with another as I

search for my beat, searching blindly for the

lyrics that whisper to my soul. I can only hear

the sound of breaking atoms their energy bursting,

streaming the skies with invisible energy. Iwant to

rise again and walk in the shadows where the silence

is my friend and the darkness my lover.


Karen Hayward ©2016

I am the blank canvas.



I never said you could take my page,

dampen down my internal rage.

I never asked for this haunting silence

a metaphorical pain that’s worse than violence.

I never said you could have my words

or make my page a fucked up blur.

I never asked for your opinion

so I tell you now you have no dominion.

Drop a silent atom bomb upon my soul

and gather up the thoughts you think you stole.

Steal away the edges of my sanity

and try your hardest to install some vanity.

Pull at the essence of my being

and blind me from feeling what i’m seeing.

Sink me into the abyss of darkness

beneath an emerald sky so starless.

Try your hardest.

Know what it is to fail as I rise again from the ashes

a seasoned traveler I’ve mastered the crashes.

I am not your blank canvas

a tired mind empty and planless.

I am the thoughts that spill to my page

that slip between the bars of the iron cage.

I am the essence of touch in the darkness of night

devouring with passion my every sight.

So go ahead do your best,

create the silence that I detest.

Erase the markings leave only the spaces

where actually you’ll find crimson red laces.

I am more than the words, the thoughts or the gestures,

I am the blank canvas just waiting for treasure.


Karen Hayward ©2016