That Which Takes the Dark

January 17, 2017January 17, 2017 bernardsbarnes Poetry angst, dark, death, dread, dreams, fear, insomnia, light, night, poetry, sleep, sleepless, time, torture, twilight

4 a.m., and sleep seemed a thing impossible.

The mottled face of the ceiling was like that of the moon,
pale and barren, and offering nothing.

His eyes moved to the orange strip of street-lamp glow
cast across the bedroom wall by the window.

He watched the steam from the sewer drains
wash and dance
like ripples across a mud puddle,
before once again glancing at the hands
of the Big Ben clock at his bed-side.

Sleep wasn’t coming.

It had made its appearance brief, and seemingly
had moved on, leaving him to yearn.

Now, he did yearn,
but attempted to stop, for he knew
such an act would yield nothing.

-BSB

Celestial Sisters

December 28, 2016December 28, 2016 bernardsbarnes Poetry history, mankind, moon, nature, ocean, poetry, spirituality, time

The Pacific Ocean is akin to the face of the moon
by both its size, unfathomable,
for a mind such as mine to properly compute,
and likewise, its effect
of uniting men and women for eons.

Through the history of humankind
in all its bloodshed, and orgasms,
and soft drinks, and me,
the moon has always been there
for all the world’s people to gaze upon,
with necks bent skyward, and endless fascination,
and so has the ocean.

#70

March 29, 2015 bernardsbarnes Haikus freedom, haiku, poetry, terror, time

last a thousand years
break forth from your carapace
nothing scares you now

it’s just a phase

March 19, 2015 bernardsbarnes Poetry enlightenment, hope, Jake Allen, poetry, time

these are the times meant for fun
the times of love have yet to come
times of fear are long since past
soon will be time for one

life goes on

March 14, 2015 bernardsbarnes Poetry life, poetry, reality, time, wonder

flash back to a year ago, when all dreams were wisps of cloud overhead
to a time when I had only thoughts of adventures yet to come
now, the life I built around myself is far behind my moving vessel
and the time now in motion are the actions of my past dreams

stop wasting time

March 7, 2015 bernardsbarnes Poetry energy, path, poetry, time

all the path is just a shadow of the energy you’re traversing
the words we utter to each other are separate minds converging
times we spend in silent aguish is a life that’s spent on favour
wasted time we use to flatter matters not to whom we call neighbours

closer to the door

February 26, 2015February 26, 2015 bernardsbarnes Poetry breathe, message, poetry, time, tomorrow, yesterday

tomorrow is just another day
a step towards the end of line
a little closer to the door
while I open the window to breathe
breathe in the air on the wind in the sky
listen, I swear there’s a message inside
watch as tomorrow it passes you by
leaving you yesterday
just another yesterday

	bernardsbarnes on Just a Bukowski Tonight
	jillianmrks on Just a Bukowski Tonight
	jillianmrks on Greasy Spoon Day-Dreaming
	Kalia Attal on The Artist’s Winter
	mich Barnes on Make Believe We’ve Solve…

bernard s. barnes

the official website

time

That Which Takes the Dark

Celestial Sisters

The Pacific Ocean is akin to the face of the moon
by both its size, unfathomable,
for a mind such as mine to properly compute,
and likewise, its effect
of uniting men and women for eons.

Through the history of humankind
in all its bloodshed, and orgasms,
and soft drinks, and me,
the moon has always been there
for all the world’s people to gaze upon,
with necks bent skyward, and endless fascination,
and so has the ocean.

#70

it’s just a phase

life goes on

stop wasting time

closer to the door

The Pacific Ocean is akin to the face of the moon by both its size, unfathomable, for a mind such as mine to properly compute, and likewise, its effect of uniting men and women for eons.

Through the history of humankind in all its bloodshed, and orgasms, and soft drinks, and me, the moon has always been there for all the world’s people to gaze upon, with necks bent skyward, and endless fascination, and so has the ocean.

The Pacific Ocean is akin to the face of the moon
by both its size, unfathomable,
for a mind such as mine to properly compute,
and likewise, its effect
of uniting men and women for eons.

Through the history of humankind
in all its bloodshed, and orgasms,
and soft drinks, and me,
the moon has always been there
for all the world’s people to gaze upon,
with necks bent skyward, and endless fascination,
and so has the ocean.