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ABSTRACT: 'The Audioverses' is a dark collection of poetry which I wrote during my time between lyric writing for two bands I had performed in as vocalist. At liberty with the creation of poems in collision with growing up into my late teenage years, I decided to turn my developing philosophy into a series of struggles and illustrations through the written word, wishing to be vocal with them as what had previously driven me through performing. 'The Audioverses' are poems of one that wishes to profess in a world becoming less willing to listen, to the point of isolation.
Contact, query or comment? Leave an e-mail: exphoin@live.co.ukOther collections: Murs Blancs du Ciel.
The first poem towards what will be a whole narrative collection I am creating; Murs Blancs du Ciel.
If you enjoy and wish to watch the narrative unfold, please follow the page and feel free to leave me a comment, message, or whatever you wish!
Kevin Phoenix.
Below is the final verse to the quadrilogy which contents The Audioverses, concluding ‘Ignis’ and therefore this collection.
I have enjoyed this for nearly 2 and a half years, and it is time to bury the hatchet on this part of my writing in order to make way for other collections to be born. I am still writing.
www.theaudioverses.tumblr.com with remain as display, but no post activity will come from this other than news of any birthing collections. Questions, submits, etc. will be read on here if you make any, and I will reply when I can, otherwise please email me for better discourse.
So thank you for reading, thank you to everyone throughout my life for making this possible, and to humanity for giving me a reason to delve into life in order to better understand the world.
Forever thoughtful,
Kevin Phoenix.
My comfort is writing, so here is Buried Beneath The Frost I would like to be read and hopefully shared, otherwise just thank you for reading.
Comments and what not would be appreciated.
Take me to the river that carries your promises,
so healthy with living dreams keeping ebb and flow,
and we can know the skin’s desire.
Walk me down the banks to soak the sediments,
under the weight of the world, mere dust between toes,
are now the dreams we knew prior.
Shed me like the dying songs, strung on broken strings.
Flaking to the ground our skin entwines with silt and sand,
a love of birthing the brightest fire.
Root me with the soil then, to sprout promises to the sky,
of green-glowing open-arms, kept with scented reminisce of my light,
to fill me, when back from the world’s spire.
Les Feuilles Mortes de l’Automne.
A love poem; I would love if you could share this if you share the sentiments for love and nature.
