A pad in lap a hand set free.
A mind wanders for words to see.
Emotions enhanced, troubles relieved.
Time unconditional, imagination believed.
Notes of nowhere, deciphering dared.
Scribbles scrawl, reluctance repaired.
Visions doodle in a borderless plane.
Consumed is all in a leaderless reign.
Stuck inside my head today, it’s not a good place to be.
It gets pretty lonely in here, just me and me.
A place so dark, blues are bright.
My body aches, yet alone I fight.
The same million thoughts all run around.
The same old shit knocks me to the ground.
A door is here.
I know somewhere.
I’ll bang my head around one more time.
A crack may appear, again I’ll rhyme.
Again I’ll love, again I’ll care.
Again I’m free, but do I dare.
Static by day and charge by night,
two negatives don’t make a right.
But sleep will come eventually.
Work will follow unfortunately.
Then home again alone with me,
my Monday night mystery, yet to be.
Euphoria inspires –
with quills of flyers.
consumed we write.
Paid is the price,
life owed thrice.
Costly is consummation;
self, others or inspiration.
Haunted by desire,
time’s no higher.
in space we hide.
Sharing time, hearts and minds,
rightly seen writing blinds.
Is balance a lever to be had,
none ever being sad?
Parts whole, time’s inspired,
forwards given give required.
Love conjures unknowns within,
any choice a choice to begin.
The penguin stands black and white.
Half a life cloaked in the night.
Creation birth’s little doubt.
A tomb within is a tomb without.
Words silence words shout.
Stature made high, real’s stout.
A planet only revolves.
Mother’s nature evolves.
Evil kills, the good resolve.
Time tells if poles dissolve.
Darkness begins when a day’s done.
The future’s bright or there is none.
Half our lives warmed by a sun.
Twice the heat when two is one.
Icy feet wish for flight.
Penguins stand, black and white
Thank You Barbara for your inspiration!
Behind a model train, people there set.
Their never to worry nor do they fret.
The whistles blow at regular times.
Conductors conduct and the poet rhymes.
Silence fills the darkest of night.
A world dead ‘til morning’s light.
A flick of a switch then life turns on.
A flick of a switch and all is gone.
Tried & True
when each are always trying
trying it becomes
Only love and hate
are truly perpetual
False choices whither
I’ve seen the future
and it’s only clear and bright
when it’s made that way
Poetic purgatory’s a place between,
the best of all verse never to be seen.
Visions undefinable, feelings unfelt
and sensations inconceivable, when
squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squoze,
jumbled noise and random shapes,
blurry sounds and perception escapes.
Normalcy‘s all a part of prose.
Unheard the whispers whose echo grows,
frequency seldom as anyone knows.
Oh no, no, no and so the rhythm comes and goes.
Mind distracted by orderly thought.
Moments rest all for naught.
Escapers of dreams always caught.
Then times sold, image bought and change sought,
until the dollars sign to buy an eternity.
Though sense is never free, so why, why, why –
Why won’t desires die?