Ethereal vivid imagery
kissed by a subdued light
twinkling colors of nostalgia
lingering faintly
In an infinite time-lapsed dimension
where the onyx of what lures
morphs into mysterious perpetual
unpainted lackadaisical presences
leaving vacant spaces
in a yearning soul
Devoid nothings dancing
swallowing me under
a tucked in sprinkled sky
Obtainable materialization
too bland for fulfillment
Undecided passions and lost hopes
in a hollow twisted barren flesh
placed on the lower side of
a distant slightly pattering pedestal
of something that can only
be described fugitively
Bestowing faint presences
feeling the invisible
mixed in grander punched elusive dreams
A lofty unconscious concept
beyond mortal grasp
I wanted in my poetry cup
Neither fixed heat nor cold
Sought just to raise it up
Close to your hair gold
No centre is required to write
A poem of beauty or struggle
Rather a fugitive’s might
To bring out those lovely bubbles
We live mostly in thoughts
Of pictures and colors various
Trying to untie the knots
To unleash your eyes hilarious
This is a fugitive world
At the margin of the bell curve
When it is fruitfully unfurled
There is a dance in your nerve
Were there no fugitive thinkers
To mix dream with the reality
No poetry would ever shake the drinker
To draw you close to me
It is an asset dear friend
That the words are my companion
Yes I swerve from the mainstream no doubt
And pursue my pen in abandon
And the result is fresh morning
Green leaves and sometimes bouquets
Many a time they come adorning
Fugitively orange days
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March 12, 2016
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