Seven autumns have passed
leaves fallen
trodden on
swept up
much like dreams forgotten
(abandoned).
Renewal: cyclical hope of change
illuminated by colourful explosions,
a simple wish from crying eyes.
“Please, hear me.”
Sometimes it arrives
like an unexpected flowering
in the middle of a dry winter.
A chance encounter, but brief.
Yet beautiful enough to sustain hope.
It’s the opposite of loneliness
but you can still feel alone in it
where wispy word won’t cut it
clear, no. It just won’t do.
Sometimes it just isn’t enough
and the cravings for something else overpowers
this.
And nobody knows what that something is,
that some
thing.
Is this the place affection comes to die?
Will it lie here, lapping the tears away,
while the void expands
like those black holes?
Anti-matter matters much.
What to do with an empty bed,
and a full heart that feels hollow?
What to do?
My soul is effervescent
but you can’t dissolve me
in brown liquor
because I stick like a
bumper sticker
don’t hate me ‘cause
my love is thicker
Here we go, standing in line
with the sweet smell of innocence
and screaming delight.
Thus with a push we arrive
in our ferris wheel seat.
The light is as bright as noise,
and up we go.
It’s curious how it looks
from up here, still a bit strange
moving backwards but upwards.
The wind blows, and we shudder
but keep going till the top.
Oh look at the fireworks,
look at this climax!
But we dare not look down:
fear.
But a steady decline:
six feet under awaits, patiently
because Death knows eternity well.
An idea, a thought
elusively gone
like so many lives
lost to conformity.
Difference is far off
like those memories:
a scatter cushion
faded red from the years
of indifference;
or that curious conversation
about the touch of a lover.
Time is almost still
but the shadows still move
yet this can’t be seen happening.
Why is this happening?
These thoughts?
What god?
What cruel creature
on Tuesday plays Candy Crush
yet on Wednesday breaks my heart?
Back in the past
sat a young boy,
and though time moved fast
diligence was his joy.
Look at him today:
he’s not afraid,
dedication does pay;
success is his trade.
Wake up before the alarm,
a new day, a new way
to make it all happen:
possibility is a charm.
Mock my dream!
But let it be see:
I worked harder and
attitude was on my team.
There’s a burning bush
down in Eden
(inside our mind,
igniting our hearts)
and snakes in apple trees
because temptation needs.
And who are we?
Lost wanders in jeans and tees?
See the leaves –
green and clean.
But autumn snaps!
(we do too)
And winter steals.
Spring doesn’t mind,
(time for growth)
and summer is but kind.
Who are we?
Wanders in jeans and tees?
We are weird and kind:
it’s a compliment, to your mind.
We crave to be touched
like the warm, gentle sunlight –
it kisses our skin without fight.
Are we?
Yes, it is us
in jeans and tees.
When you played me that song
that’s when I first knew
the ending was coming too soon
(going to come?)
A paper bag filled with popcorn
and fingers smelling of salt;
dilated pupils.
I sat in class listening to
a god’s voice telling me about our minds –
a public session with a professional;
but the seat next to me empty
except for a cut in the blue cushioned seat
shaped curiously like a question mark
(or was it an exclamation?)
The sun hurt my eyes as I sat in the traffic
but I could still see the car in front.
It’s only when water filled my eyes I knew
(before I got glasses the tears
welled and I could see again through them).
Prescriptions from Prof. Dr. Dr’s…
I just wish they’d prescribe me some rest.
I’m quitting the show
Ain’t my time to shine
Time to quicksand myself
Deep into my mind
No silence up in these fires
Can’t catch a break in these tides
Don’t know which way is up
But I know I’m going down
So mad at all these spectres
Don’t know if they’re mine
But they whisper me stories
And I can’t sleep at night
I’m afraid of that silence
But I need that constant buzz
So I just sit here ruminating
How nobody else hears these sounds
Mr Individualist 