Poetry 
by 
Matthew  
Heaton

Acoustic Bliss

 Staring into a text-silhouetted screen,
Mind swaying from a black hole of
Sleep and consciousness.
Steel strings stretched across mahogany
Plucked and strummed,
Filling my ears with heaven.
Chords singing in unison,
Along with insatiable pitches
Of screams and coos.
Delicate fingers putting me to sleep
With rhythms along with a siren’s voice.
Eyes closed, envisioning shades of
Red, orange, and yellow swirled
Across a setting horizon,
With waves and sand kissing my feet.
Winds cradling my cheeks
As the stars slowly wake up
To race across a black canopy.
My head rests upon the mounds of sand
As this acoustic bliss puts the world aside
For a moment of peace.
Acoustic Bliss
 

Matthew  
 Heaton



Music's Gift

To cut the binds between
Screaming guitars and pounding drums
Would be to exorcise a soul and
Watch the person waste away
Without the love that was once there.
Let the edges slowly fray
As skin’s fabric unravels
In front of the world’s eye.
Do you think they’ll laugh,
Or cry along with you
With their emotionless tears
And insincere apologies.
Would you attempt to
Sew the stitches, or view
Your veins releasing
Memories and thoughts of the past
Into the emotional black hole
Known as loneliness?
Keep music’s gift, or become bound
To a world of society’s normality.
That is the indecision you are left with.

Matthew  
 Heaton
 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spikes and Rock

Days passing like people in a city,
Time swiftly running through my hands
Like grains of sand,
Slipping into nothing.
An unchanging soul surfacing
From emotional chains and apathetic mask
Unbinding…
To find what has always never shown
To be shining through icy eyes.
Fighting away loved ones’ fears
Through angelic blood, sweat and tears…
Though it never really mattered
Because good deeds were always rewarded
With a warming smile and kiss.
A darkened voice to enchantment,
But things usually turn out one way or the other.
Sticks to crash upon brass, crying for the world to listen.
Spikes and Rock, a combination to be reckoned with…
Or to die trying.

Matthew  
 Heaton

~~~~~~~~~~~

Trials...and then some
 

Her eyes drawn with seduction,
Curves filling red satin as
Stilettos build a gracious posture,
As she floats across the floor to me.
Chestnut strands curls around
A sweet surrendering smile.
Let these thoughts have some sincerity,
Lust is the last thing I want to feel inside her.
Warm friction from her skin grazing mine,
Lost in ocean’s shades and never minding it.
Tell me it is, tell me it isn’t.

Fingers cradling my softened smile,
Calming these crashing waves
To silhouetted sways and turns as
Viscosity becomes more apparent.
Flawless strokes of ivory acrylic
Dimensioning this dreamed creation to a reality.

Her answer or sign will do.
Let her kiss either poison or kill me.
Love or Lust,
A defined tight rope, hoping for my fall to break.
These trials…and then some.



Matthew  
 Heaton
 

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Matthew  
 Heaton




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