A change of scenery in the morning
resulted in a new perspective
a humming vent is still
persistent as the echo is amplified
Beauty is a rare occurrence in
such a place. A late evening voice,
turned a sullen face into a beam
such brief moments come
and go in the wind.
Momentary distractions fade
and the regularly scheduled charade
ensue, freedom is literally
at my fingertips and even the
distant banter will eventually
run its course.
The silhouette of a bird on the
window sill is paired with chirping.
The radiant morning
sun is impairing to the vision as
the days crawl toward the edge of dusk.
Provisional blindness sharpens the
other senses and regrets fade
as nostalgia enhances the mood.
Warmth is forever enduring
even where there is metal.
The days fade and the obscurity
of the night is in a race against time
while in search of substance as
a cycle travels in a
circle only to meet its sudden demise.
The sky is a multi-layered shroud.
Thick blankets of gray, slowly
drift in the wind as the faint light
of a late morning searches for a
place to make its presence known.
I can see the barren lifelessness
surrounding as my eyes peek
through a tiny hole in the window.
Faucets still run in the background
and they help to occupy the silence.
Yet, I find everything beyond
the gates, enchanting as I daydream
about what it is like for birds of
prey on days when there
is a variable wind.
You are a beautiful and delicate
flower of a particular genus
that thrives in the warmth of summer.
Your nectar
makes you a siren that has
attracted many suitors to gorge until full.
While escaping your lair, I was smitten….
obsession is prevalent in a stare.
The epitome of every hue….shades of pink
damp like the morning dew but
possessed with the snugness of a warm deluge.
Affinity is more than just uncommon
in the midst of a taste test.
A fragrance that is truly particular
is lingering like a shroud.
Innocence is more than just a way
to describe your bloom that is brought
up by a late afternoon. There is definitely
more to the presence of your vibrancy.
And I can’t help but mourn as
you slowly fade away and
wither in silence.
The consistent chatter serves as
a distraction between meals.
As the evening travels on a safe
journey through time, voices
echo between each cell.
The darkness of a late evening,
descends like a mysterious phantom
that is on the prowl in search of
something that is quite elusive.
Renditions of daily routines
serve the purpose of extending the
monotony. The noise from next door
occupies the moments when thoughts fade.
A shadow descends from a ceiling
as I am watched by mysterious eyes,
a suspended camera is the spectator
as gentle knocks ricochet.
The solitude of an empty
night, is revisited in the morning,
in the blink of one weary eye,
I awake from the depths of snoring.
Rarely is hope found in a damp
old cell in the heat of a summer night.
Yet freedom comes to those that are numb,
victory is nigh.
These precious moments armeE ass see s je still a gift
in the midst of exploring….while half awake
while in a dream, while meandering
in the morning.
I walk around in circles,
waiting for the dawn to come while nervous, hungry, lonely, drifting….
Conversations with the darkness were void of replies
questions from miles away were on damp and shriveled feet.
Train tracks occupy broken, blank minds.
I am waiting for the ground to dry
on marble tile in a waiting room by
a parking lot filled with talking birds as bread bags fly in the sky.
Dying palm trees play in a band
with the sunrise as a special guest.
Butterflies play in miniature
forests am I'mid o I'm ofgiant footsteps,
engulfed by the breeze
that is as faint as a fading promise
while on a tour to bid us farewell.
a flat thin mattress and even the tiny ridges
on the wall beg for freedom.
Time and wealth may slip through my
fingers like grains of sand.
Yet, the dwindling is rarely noticed
unless meandering in limbo.
A volatile storm called passion may
come and go but the tail winds will
bring ease to the pain.
My heart is the only vessel that has been
enslaved. As I watched the pace of distant
traffic from a window etched in
more than just glass, I still
dream of you in thoughts of pleasure
and life is instantly grand.
I am still in the process of counting
the bricks on the wall but the
tiny ridges are infinite and the
latter tally appears to be an
insurmountable feat.
Conversations echo at odd
hours and late nights merge into
early mornings. Faucets drip and
the steady cadence is therapeutic.
I stare into oblivion while draped
by a shroud as I contemplate the
divested times. Cold metal is
reminiscent of a heart, lost in
the midst of winter
to only be revived by a strangers warmth,
I AM STILL ALIVE!
Shades that range from a transparent
pink to a smoldering inferno, exists for
only one purpose; the display of grandeur
is a provisional beacon of hope.
The sky is a sea that is as vivid as a
dream while occupied by the islands
that float. Dusk is nigh as the darkness
of night descends from afar
rendering the stage to a crescent
moon and stars.
A Bridge will connect us,
a wall will separate us.
So, which one are you
trying to build?
A world exists beyond
these gates and that is
where my heart belongs.
Hours pass. So does light.
Trains and cars do as well.
Dreams stay behind the
lids of hopeful eyes
while prancing in the
darkness of a placid night.
A Bridge will connect us,
a wall will separate us.
So, which one are you
trying to build?
