Kevin Maroney Poems

There's nothing now, a black void,
under which I am devoid,
devoid of meaning and every star,
I'm just this empty, writhing scar.
...

The sickly summer stew brews around my ankles,
it rises in fury to scorch my bright eyes.
My nostrils steam as the fire me rankles,
from somewhere deep down inside.
...

He went up a hill, to gaze at it still,
yet moving it ran farther.
He topped the hill, with its sight was he filled,
but this wasn't the animal he'd come for.
...

What have you done,
strange believing one?
Is this your duty,
or have you more, right snooty?
...

A burning torch, round the wheel,
wherever it end, will I feel?
It burns hot, or cold perhaps?
I know not, a not so sly cat.
...

Despair in cycle, right on time,
A feeling oft expressed in prose and rhyme,
deadly purpose set arrow straight,
on a bow of dire fear and hate.
...

Big, hulking ugly thing,
does thou answer to my ring?
A bell that dares to sing,
what, did I start?
...

What a strenuous labor here,
to such a friend and roomate dear,
not function, ephemeral,
don't cry stay there sull.
...

cycle, knowN to none
lives outside Of reality
unknown To most, grasped
before the end of vitality,
...

I trust love to be worthy of my glance,
But love knows not what I trouble it to do
It barely troubles me to see askance
What know’st I how for it to shed as two?
...