magical moments
beneath blue sunny skies
time freezes
something in your eyes
private moments in public
your hands on my skin
calm oblivion surrounds us
giggling shuts out the din
a day filled with laughter
many moments of fun
a day to remember
courtesy of the sun
you have entered my life
your soul has brushed my heart
i read kindness and goodness
good place for friends to start
Friday, July 18, 2008
Dreamer
If we are so enamored with our dreams and possiblities,
why don't we try harder to manifest that in real life?
why don't we try harder to manifest that in real life?
Blinded
Following a slice of light out of the darkness,
she lifts her head and realizes
the only reason why it was dark
is because her eyes were closed.
She had blinded herself.
It is easy to become lost
when you refuse to see.
she lifts her head and realizes
the only reason why it was dark
is because her eyes were closed.
She had blinded herself.
It is easy to become lost
when you refuse to see.
Subconsious Haunting
like a whispered voice in the darkness
like a ghost in a dream
i wonder where you are
i wonder what you think
like a ghost in a dream
i wonder where you are
i wonder what you think
Saturday, July 12, 2008
An Audience of One
Ofttimes I wonder
are you out there somewhere
reading the words that I write?
Do you know they are about you?
Do you know that you inspire me
to half awake dreaminess
in muddled fuzzy realities
even in your absence, your silence?
A muse is a strange thing.
Unwanted, unasked for,
but needed and welcome,
despite the circumstances.
are you out there somewhere
reading the words that I write?
Do you know they are about you?
Do you know that you inspire me
to half awake dreaminess
in muddled fuzzy realities
even in your absence, your silence?
A muse is a strange thing.
Unwanted, unasked for,
but needed and welcome,
despite the circumstances.
Inside
From the outside
she appears calm;
from the outside
she appears strong.
Beneath the surface lingers
tempestuous maelstrom,
whirlwind of emotion,
deluge of tears,
thunderclap of frustration,
threatening at any moment
to explode into tiny bits.
A mass of confetti
littering the barren carpet
of earthly delight.
That is this life.
she appears calm;
from the outside
she appears strong.
Beneath the surface lingers
tempestuous maelstrom,
whirlwind of emotion,
deluge of tears,
thunderclap of frustration,
threatening at any moment
to explode into tiny bits.
A mass of confetti
littering the barren carpet
of earthly delight.
That is this life.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Waking Dreams
I'm tumbling and falling darkly into oblivion's well;
I fear I need pain's aide to be pulled back from the edge.
The rhythmic pounding of blood in my brain;
the wings of black alabaster buffeting wind in my face.
Familiar stranger, ghost in my mind,
lately I've seen your face in my dreams.
'Tis passing strange for I've always dreamed,
though a face has ne'er appeared through the fog.
Was it your soul calling out to me,
or am I simple and crazy?
My restless wandering spirit projecting
to ease my alone and lonely feeling.
What is the might-have-been,
what is the might-still-be?
It is the familiar, that I always return to;
yet 'tis still strange for it is unknown.
It is bodies melting together like molten glass,
dancing and flowing in the passionate flame.
It is the spark of sweet hot breath
when lips almost touch, softly brush.
It is the comfort of a warm down quilt
wrapped around me on a cold winter night.
It is the trickle of a bead of salty sweat
slowly coursing down a warm supple spine.
I fear I need pain's aide to be pulled back from the edge.
The rhythmic pounding of blood in my brain;
the wings of black alabaster buffeting wind in my face.
Familiar stranger, ghost in my mind,
lately I've seen your face in my dreams.
'Tis passing strange for I've always dreamed,
though a face has ne'er appeared through the fog.
Was it your soul calling out to me,
or am I simple and crazy?
My restless wandering spirit projecting
to ease my alone and lonely feeling.
What is the might-have-been,
what is the might-still-be?
It is the familiar, that I always return to;
yet 'tis still strange for it is unknown.
It is bodies melting together like molten glass,
dancing and flowing in the passionate flame.
It is the spark of sweet hot breath
when lips almost touch, softly brush.
It is the comfort of a warm down quilt
wrapped around me on a cold winter night.
It is the trickle of a bead of salty sweat
slowly coursing down a warm supple spine.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Zombies
the drones drift by
tip-toe, tick tock
faceless, mindless
their voices in my head
pounding, voiceless
tip-toe, tick tock
faceless, mindless
their voices in my head
pounding, voiceless
Shades of Grey
the harbingers of change blow
on a day grey with anticipation
my muse haunted my dreams last night
fanciful false images of a future
that might-have-been, might-still-be
hope eludes as sleep did last night
my barren life stretching before me
endlessness in sight
on a day grey with anticipation
my muse haunted my dreams last night
fanciful false images of a future
that might-have-been, might-still-be
hope eludes as sleep did last night
my barren life stretching before me
endlessness in sight
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Perceptions
My eyes, they shine so bright today
in this room of my mind with a view.
'Tis merely within my own mind's eye,
but perception and heart they shine through.
A grizzled old man sits down beside me
chain smoking, and harshly coughing.
All others around pretend he's invisible
yet for some reason his soul calls to me.
What would it be like wonders my mind
to live in his invisible world?
Existing and living and breathing always
whilst all deny you are there in their eyes.
The passers-by they don't stop and stare,
merely spare an uncomfortable glance.
He sits and chain smokes coughing harshly,
a dignified king on a throne in his world.
in this room of my mind with a view.
'Tis merely within my own mind's eye,
but perception and heart they shine through.
A grizzled old man sits down beside me
chain smoking, and harshly coughing.
All others around pretend he's invisible
yet for some reason his soul calls to me.
What would it be like wonders my mind
to live in his invisible world?
Existing and living and breathing always
whilst all deny you are there in their eyes.
The passers-by they don't stop and stare,
merely spare an uncomfortable glance.
He sits and chain smokes coughing harshly,
a dignified king on a throne in his world.
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