Time to harvest the blossom of your dream
have you tenderly coddled yesterday's seed
time is the seductive companion of wisdom
the dream of time is to pick up Godspeed.
You've entered the golden foyer it seems
is the reality of day as plush as the daydream.
its colors maintained, still bright as conception
or dullened like the skin of horizon's deception.
In the serf's vase, a blossom gaudily sits
within an eternity so heartlessly clipped.
Goals only half met pocked with regret
you've come so far-far up from the crag
the crystal of the dream withering to hagfish.
It was all about the gifts of the voyage within
the dorsal fin currents -a tidepools lone gem.
Categories:
gaudily, life,
Form: Rhyme
fastened to the ground, with feet and hands tied, the objects i was watching were, not the plain simple silhouetted images, thrown on the partially fallen mud wall, in Plato’s cave but gaudily colorful quickly revolving images on the vast screen
the images, were overwhelming, dazzling, blinding my eyes
the air in a cave should stand still, stuffy and heavy, even merancholic;
this cave was different, it was filled with inharmonious bursting sounds,
enough to tear the eardrums to pieces
in the dilemma of the cave, i cannot sit still and listen, or watch
all these complications, so i broke the chains and rushed out from
the cave to see the world outside i never saw
lo and behold! everything in nature embraces one another
it becomes a one huge boundless unit but not a wholeness
in one accord
all are mingled as one in the darkness of a sunless sky,
black is the darkness before the sun, before its time to rise
from the other side of a deeply sunken horizon,
waiting, though useless, a day calls, a tomorrow yet to come
Categories:
gaudily, allegory, anxiety, imagery,
Form: Free verse
The spider
whose web I've been
crashing at
is getting kind of
sick of me.
I guess it's about
time I strike
out on my own, and see
what I can
make of myself.
I stepped onto
the sidewalk,
and wouldn't you
know it, there
she was;
Adorned by fluffy green
earmuffs
and gaudily over-sized
plush boots,
she was a low-fat
dessert for the eyes,
a paradox for the soul's
deciphering probe to
jab against.
Perhaps she was
the very realization
of my pewter daydreams
molded by tepid steam
from makeshift
ovaries.
Categories:
gaudily, first love,
Form: Romanticism