Kalynn Campbell's Blog: THE UNSPOKEN

night surrounds
I fall alone
the sound of myself
chills to the bone
a bleeding
upon the panes
as from above
I become
rain

I spill
drops of indigo
as I descend
on forlorn pillow
I puddle in sleep
for myself pray
as from above
I become
rain

my downpour soft
in hold of dusk
a quiet weeping
for all i've lost
not of tempest
I fall in restraint
as from above
I become
rain     -Kalynn Campbell

night surrounds
I fall alone
the sound of myself
chills to the bone
a bleeding
upon the panes
as from above
I become
rain

I spill
drops of indigo
as I descend
on forlorn pillow
I puddle in sleep
for myself pray
as from above
I become
rain

my downpour soft
in hold of dusk
a quiet weeping
for all i've lost
not of tempest
I fall in restraint
as from above
I become
rain

in all words written
in all words said
until punctuation
an end is left.
was I her nothing?
questions a fear,
as fragile tomorrows
fall in despair.
alone in the earth
or alone in a kiss
both are the same
to those never missed.
found is the breath
remembered are scars
but lost is the beat
of a forgotten heart-
and of the flowers
that too soon fade
each dies a promise
once quietly made-
with punctuation
I touch her last word
it whispers of nothing
so I leave it unheard




-Kalynn Campbell

I wished on a star
but it fell in the night
I nurtured my faith
but beliefs all died
I see all the smiles
but I feel all the pain
I live in no prison
yet I am bound in chain
I lost the question
to an answer I know
I climbed to the top
and came out below
I never gamble
yet bet it all
I muted my ghosts
but they proceed to call
I live in the present
but it's already past
I'd take life slow
but it moves too fast
I reach for the heavens
but touch only ground
I am not missing
but I'll never be found
I swim in my youth
but drown in my age
I owe no tears
yet forever I pay

some of it trifle
maybe arcane
all of it a shove

as I fall

away.




-Kalynn Campbell

I wished on a star
but it fell in the night
I nurtured my faith
but beliefs all died
I see all the smiles
but I feel all the pain
I live in no prison
yet I am bound in chain
I lost the question
to an answer I know
I climbed to the top
and came out below
I never gamble
yet still bet it all
I muted my ghosts
but they proceed to call
I live in the present
but it's already past
I'd take it in slowly
but it moves too fast
I reach for the heavens
but touch only ground
I am not missing
but I'll never be found
I swim in my youth
but drown in my age
I owe life no tears
yet forever I pay

some of it trifle
maybe arcane
all of it a shove
as I
fall
away




-Kalynn Campbell

They sing
of things
that are not
and things
never found

of tatters
and tears
of bruises
I wear
of thorn
in lace
and love's
disgrace

of broken things
that never mend
of kisses
laced with
oblivion

of lonely dreams
of forgotten
things
ripe with
cadaver touch

of these
things
my angels sing
as I ready
for the
end


-Kalynn Campbell

They sing
of things
that are not
and things
never found

of tatters
and tears
of bruises
I wear
of thorn
in lace
and love's
disgrace

of broken things
that never mend
of kisses
laced with
oblivion

of lonely dreams
of forgotten
things
ripe with
cadaver touch

of these
things
my angels sing
as I ready
for the
end


-Kalynn Campbell

to me death came
sullen with rain,
the She of grave
and hold of pain

her scent was strong
of souls bereaved
her eyes of ash
her hair of wreath

she was not grim
not even sad
said not a word
just took my hand

her fingers soft
of heart's decay
my love had come
to take me away

profound such love
flowed through me
for in death's arms
I felt complete

she kissed of past
a life flashed by
upon her lips
I longed to die

but free she pulled
with hushed goodbye
then softly faded
into the night

alone I woke
alone I'm left
buried alive
with every

breath



-Kalynn Campbell

life,
brutal your crush
so from you
I fade

with breath of
anguish
I disobey

herein lies
my final
goodbye

gone soon dead-ends
that makeup day
no more your days
that crush away
illusions of hope

salvation awaits
in sips of sleep

to refuge of gray
slowly I slip
far
from you

the whole of me
peacefully
eternally
falls

away

unlike you
of myself
I will not crush

with leniency
I simply
cease

as from you
blithely

I fade



-Kalynn Campbell

A short story I wrote a few years ago during my divorce - I just now got around to editing it.


“Time has a way of stealing the past like a rainforest taking back a village”

My wife and I took possession of the new house on a sunny summer's day. The backyard a typical cookie cutter mold of urban living. A six foot high wooden fence the only thing that separated a deluge of fast food wrappers and sun bleached beer cans from the 15' x 30' piece of earth which now served as our sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of the city. In the center of this man made oasis grew a ficus tree. It was a striking bit of flora, the lineage pure ficus.

The ficus tree.
A popular choice for city dwellers as it grows quickly and can cover a yard with coveted shade in no time. But the tree is considered a scourge by city planners because of it's aggressive roots. The roots of a ficus tree can bore through sewer pipe like a spoon through pudding, the tenacious roots often push slabs of sidewalk up from the ground a foot or two, detrimentally tripping unmindful pedestrians. Due to costly lawsuits and broken water pipes, the mischievous ficus tree maintains a high ranking on the list of ‘urban menaces.’
Menace aside, the quick growth of tree cover made the ficus tree a happy arboretum staple in my new neighborhood. Even with the occasional ‘warning’ letter from the city asking people to curb the practice of planting ficus trees, there was at least one ficus tree in every backyard. The ficus tree in our yard was not like all the others, ours was special. What set our ficus tree apart from the hundreds of others in the hundreds of other backyards was the trunk. From the moment you stepped out the back door you noticed it. The trunk of our tree displayed an astonishing sexy manifestation of human female torso anatomy. Not a "squint your eyes and imagine" trunk, but a "someone had to have sculpted that, it's so erotically realistic" trunk.  An R-rated "cover the kid's eyes" female anatomy kind of trunk. Every subtle crease, every smooth contour, every titillating measurement was accurate. She was stunning in her perfection of female lusciousness and she proudly showboated mother nature’s naughty ‘exhibitionist' side. From the day we moved in the tree was simply called ‘the naked lady tree,’ a moniker she wore like a Frederick's of Hollywood corset.

From Birthdays to Holidays to barbeques, the years unwound, each one punctuated by a series of backyard get-togethers. At every event friends would marvel at the naked lady tree. All were amazed, most took pictures or videos, and one, on a Cinco De Mayo tequila bender, posed with her in such a lewd manner as to end up the star of an embarrassing viral video.

The years continued to unwind until one day my wife left me. My marriage ended not with a bang, but with a whimper. A simple "I want a divorce,” followed by the door closing. It cut my heart in two but I had no choice, it was her divorce and I was merely along for the beating. Within three days of her walking out I became so uncomfortable in the large house alone that I started eating meals in the back yard. I'd throw whatever I could find onto a paper plate then sit on the back porch steps and force myself to accept nourishment. I remember the first time I looked up at the naked lady tree after many months of neglecting the backyard. The naked lady tree was anchored to the center of the yard by thick stark-white roots, her dancing branches full of shiny green pearl-like leaves. But her beautiful sensual trunk had changed, no longer did she flaunt the sexy human-like torso she once had. Her humanesque features were still noticeable but they no longer held a shocking realism. She was noticeably older, her voluptuous 'legs' had now thickened to old lady status. The naked lady tree was in decline, much as my marriage.

A strange kinship developed between the naked lady tree and myself over the next few months. She became my rock, a place I would go to express the sorrow of a broken marriage in solitude. The naked lady tree the only one I was confiding in that didn’t respond with a pitiful pat on the back or a halfhearted “chin up” pep talk. Sitting at her roots also gave me the feeling I had a comrade in pain. The tree was losing her stunning human-like figure, a figure that made her a star among ficus trees. Once she was so stunning people actually garnished cameras when they saw her. That was over now. In a strange way it seemed as if the tree felt sad for me as well. The naked lady tree had been there from day one and was witness to the good of the marriage as Birthdays and Holidays and barbeques  rolled in and out of my life. And now, whenever I sat under the shady plume of her branches, leaves would gently drop around me like light rain on a summer’s day. The naked lady tree shed tears for me.

One day the gardener gouged the naked lady tree’s trunk with a 'weed-whacker.’ It was a deep slash and the wound bled white sap for days. Within a week a scar developed, a long human-like welt line defacing her once flawless outer bark.
Now we both carried scars.

Meantime the divorce raged on, nastiness spewed from that side and anxiety poured from this side. A dark cloud seemed to constantly hang over the house and within a few weeks a flock of large rogue crows filled the naked lady tree's branched arms. They cackled and spewed verbal venom as I sat in my usual spot on the back steps and picked at the dregs of a once brimming refrigerator. The crows were like pillaging pirates on a secluded tropical island. They pulled garbage from the street and dropped it on the lawn, they fowled my car and robbed nests of all the local song birds until there was no longer a song in the air. It was another harsh mirror image of the bleak world that was my ongoing divorce.

Soon the divorce war hit a fever pitch and I found myself consumed with survival on the basic of levels. Preoccupied with legal papers and collapsing finances, I stopped eating meals on the back steps, opting to eat on the living room floor while I went through stacks of legal briefs. No longer did I have time for anything other than the fight at hand.
 Two more months passed when seemingly out of the blue my wife's lawyer called. The war was over. The divorce was finalized. With little more than a “oh, by the way,” I had been ordered to pack and vacate.

Overwhelmed, I opened a beer and walked to the back door, needing to clear my head. Walking through the threshold from what had been a living tomb into the vibrancy of the outside world felt alien. The air was incredibly crisp, the returned sound of song birds a welcomed distraction. I sat in my spot on the steps and glanced up at the naked lady tree. I was at once shocked and saddened. She had changed. As if someone had planted another tree in her spot, her torso had become nothing more than a run-of-the-mill ficus tree's trunk - no semblance to human form remained at all. The tree before me was nothing more than an ordinary everyday ficus tree. Only a faded line across the trunk, a garden tool defacement, gave any indication it was her. The naked lady tree.

I looked down and tears began to flow. Everything I knew was gone. For the first time... I realized I was alone.








-Kalynn Campbell