RanDoM

Brushes of thoughts
Tones of nostalgia
Shades of doubt
Covers of unease
Escape my simple mindedness  

The higher I’ve been
The lower I sin
The faster I think
The slower I sink
Will never get me over this

The blacker my reasons
The bloodier the season
The bolder the actions
The more timid reactions
Can’t flash to something more definite

Contrasts of illusions
Likeliness of confusion
Drums of contempt
Whistles of mere delude
And yet the answer is…..

Commenced it has

Bold drapes; enclosing curtains

Flutter reassuringly, circling
Mother den
Lumps of chalkish vessels
Resume background for the heavens
A sturdy mirage of black and white polka-dots
Unleash serendipity; “mho-ooo-ooo” rolls

The stillness, trapped in an anonymous threshold
Zooms respectfully near, busy counting molds
Or immodest green leaves, corrupt’d by dust
Almost aching for you to grab hold; subtle lust
Trumpets roaring, books snoring
Roosters howling “morning”
It.Has.Commenced…

Writers Dilemma

Crumbled up papers
Now turn into waste
Words lost throughout time
And it’s the pen i can’t face

I scratch away at my head
For some ideas to scrape 
One or two fall out
Only to get replaced

I think most other work 
Is always on key
I take a look at mine
Self-doubt mocks me

They may say “well done”
But deep inside i know
That for one reason or the other
I can’t let this other-side be shown

Seek

​I.

Tracing my footsteps, only to find they faded
Looking for the shadow that I once created
The wind whispers “follow my lead”,almost captivated
Where am I to turn to when all the paths are gated?

​I​I.
I dream to live big

But in reality I have it small

I could be in a trance

And still have time to fall 


Change

​​Change as pragmatic as this

Causes centuries to interlope 

Stars to intertwine

Crooked lines to line

Words redefined to suit me
Like the deduction of paintings
Add another cross to the tally
That stands drawn in some back alley

Weak, indecisive, too sentimental
Attributes, which in part, reveal
Like most trouble souls, a fraction
Of some hidden depth ….

Change as implausible as this
Causes doves to hit glass
Reality will settle in eventually
Like a guest unannounced


Psuedo-memoirs

​I would count cars from the balcony

With my stubby index finger; tap, tap

Childish notions on God and earth

“The suns following us mom”, I say

Only thing that mattered, really

Were the inner workings of imigination 

Before the proverbial “boy meets girl”

And the truth was purely innocent

Wonder and adventure hidden in all

Had us fanning our delight; childs play

Why grow up? Why stay young?

It takes courage to admit 

We want both

With reality’s intercession