ancient bones whisper
secrets told in murmurs
rustling dark trees
as the night’s wind


your tears rain
bathing every wound
and delicate scar
under a négligée
of silk and lace

the spider’s dream

the spider’s dream…

website launch…Michael McGuirt Music

Michael McGuirt Music up and running  ~

studio x

studio x

the blues

the crickets and the wind

orchestrate the mood

playing the blues

of an endless night


invisible pieces
of you
float like feathers
each one
a different colored

half heart

michael mcguirt:

ancient bones from the grave … a historic tale of mortality

Originally posted on michaelmcguirt:

deathless sleep of angel’s womb,

i fly as fetus

searching every drifting dream

for a pulse unborn –

the cry of the half heart.


heaven’s tears caress,

a shower of diamond light,

burning away ugliness, melting years,

bathing every lie.

i peal jacquards

of colour and time

to enter the vault –

truth to unlock all locks,

and open the gate

where we began – before,


before i was torn –

ripped suffering suckle,

immortal fruit’s desire – taken,


to walk as they walk,

smearing history

with animal’s blood

upon canvas and mind –

line upon line;

killing for poetry,

praying for art,

sacrificing the purest of the pure –

more than i knew,

more than i cried for



dying, because

they said so.

they said i must.

they, how be it,

said too much –

but reaching, always

for the fading hand,

i descend…

View original 320 more words


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