There exists a thin line
Between “you” and “them”.
To ask “who is them” is necessary,
Not asking shouts your capture.
But to ask “who are you”
Is to search for yourself
In places they didn’t expect you to look.
I said a thin line but truly, it’s thick
Knowing south when the rest only north.
In this game, losing your soul
Means taking with you the blind folded.
The ones who refuse to look the other way.
But…, thick or thin, does it really exist?
Now how about, “there exist a wall”
That separates the real and the current you.
This time the task to find
The material the wall is made of
Which will allow you to question and find,
The difficult but vital part of breaking free.
I said a wall, what if there exists nothing.
You see clearly the lines and the lies.
But you know the cost of disobedience.
And got tired of going where
The masses refuse to leave their footprints.
Tired of thorns of red zones,
You know the path, potholes and the truth.
Indeed there’s nothing, just an invisible border.
And you know it.
"Wisdom doesn't automatically come with old age. Nothing does - except wrinkles. ~ Abigail Van Buren
Hear me, my ardent, eager, bright-eyed youth.
I'm flattered that you would lend me an ear,
though you are imaginary, in truth,
and I am quite unqualified, I fear -
to utter words, unquestionably wise.
But I love to speak, and my time is near.
What I didn't know, when I was your size,
is that lives are a mix of joy and pain,
so that everyone, sometimes hurts and cries.
Sometimes, the sun shines, sometimes, it will rain.
So, have faith. There is no need to despair.
The bright sun will always come out again.
Be brave, try hard, be true, be kind and care.
Laugh, have fun, nurture yourself and others,
and you will see the sun more than your share.
Remember, we're all sisters and brothers.
If this were a novel, I’d embrace your hand in mine, but it’s not.
There’s no happily ever after,
No prose of reciprocated feelings.
If we were on a page hidden in some far-off chapter, I’d let my fingers find yours.
And yet, here we stand, apart, living our own lives.
Except my every thought is consumed by you
So rather you're living your own life, unaffected.
Whilst I'm stuck on the rose-scented page in the story of us
But this rose will never bloom.
Life is more thorns than roses.
Yet in a world of roses, we’d have more than just unspoken tension.
We could have a world full of roses,
But sadly, we’ll remain with thorns—
Our hands living apart,
While I sit and read about what we could be
My blood dripping onto the page from the thorns I grasp too tightly.
Holding on to the moment our eyes locked and the scent of roses and possibilities filled the air
The day my hand began to bleed, and my heart started to beat.
My Imaginary Friend
Is very real to me.
My IF walks with me, talks with me.
My IF really speaks to me.
My IF lets me follow Him everywhere I go.
My IF soothes my soul.
My IF plays with me, prays with me.
My IF died for me and lives thru me.
My IF will save the day
When my days
are done.
Imaginary beings have been imagining.
Ghosts, like moths, see only your flickering flame.
Dark desires are the unborn you give life to,
they are motes in your reflecting mirror-mind,
hot embers so infinitesimally small,
that they can hide a lifetime
in the pupil of one eye.
Imaginary beings offer a certain reality,
they give thanks to all your secrets,
make love to the weight of your desires,
then, return to that fantasy persona
to reimagine you once more
as a comic book hero,
one only the purest of heart
may read.
inside the mirror
her macabre apparition
seen by a toddler
toddler is waving
invisible friend they think
non-seeing elders
I have met you in my mind,
You have been a reflection of my desire.
I have worshipped you in my favourite mirror,
You have been a quiet echo in others’ eyes.
I never judged you inside the canvas,
Never found you in my head,
Never placed you on the stage,
Never let you out of my heart.
So many people to see,
So many places to go,
So many things to learn,
Yet I confine myself to your memoir.
To live in you is nothing but a daydream,
To be stuck in your voice is merely a yearning to be brave.
To get you out of the lonesome island
Is to get rid of the nothingness inside my head.
I will make you a dark circumference,
While you live in the encrypted figure.
No one can snatch you out of this cage,
Where you are destined—in the imaginary no man’s land.
I saw a tall tree in the forest that was short and pink.
I saw water flow backward and didn't know what it meant.
I saw a mountain with no hill that was flat as the earth.
I saw grass in a desert without any dirt.
I saw people with no worries flying high like a bird.
I saw the deep meaning of life between a boy and a girl.
I saw an abstract object that was tall and wide.
I saw a glimpse into a mirror of the other side.
I saw a rock in mid-air standing still.
I saw a car moving in motion that didn't have any wheels.
I saw the bottom of the ocean, and it wasn't deep.
I saw the mysteries of the world from beyond the sea.
Everything I saw is made up and true.
Take a look inside your mind, and you will see it too.
I have one or two
Imaginary friends
they are fun to have around.
Imaginary friends
are so loyal and true
and they hardly make a sound.
You say to me, “why don’t you go away?”
“I’m thousands miles away already, as you know
Where to fly from here, where to stay
There’s no direction I can take to go”
“Stay where you are”, you say, “I’ve no concern
About your present life, your past and future
I have a share of troubles on my own
And I don’t want to make my troubles mutual”
“But I just want to help…”- “You always do!
I’m sick of your advising, stupid man!
Don’t talk to me of things you never knew
I deal with serious stuff for now and then!
Think what you will, how bad I am and all
How good are you, how true you are to me
Don’t press me with emotions, its your fault!
You are unreal with your stupid fantasy…”
“Why you’re boycotting me, what have I done,
For what did I deserve such attitude?” -
“This is your favorite question, you’ve done none!
You just get on my nerves, this makes me rude!
But this is me, its useless to explain
Just take it as it comes, or go away!
Go write another poem – pretty lame
Your poems are, but you keep writing anyway”.
Of them I have a few and I will admit this only to you
they are not from here and they are very, very blue
These little one foot creatures are from outer space
they are well behaved and have the cutest face.
I named one Volcano because of his cyborg strength,
though he talks in monosyllables he also talks at length !
Then there is Jukebox, he loves to sing at night
he can hit an octave but he isn't very bright.
Out of all my little friends my favorite one is Hue,
he's a Venutian little chatterbox and he isn't all that blue
He smiles so much that it gives him gas,
but I like him cuz he always makes me laugh,
and knows just what to do.
my imaginary friends
My wife often laughs at me
thinks I'm a kind but odd person
I regard Sam Smith as a friend
although I have never met him
he is so very kind when he could
have exposed me as a failed
poet who published poetry books
before he mastered the language
When he did, he lost interest
in publishing poetry because
failure or not, the poems were
written with love in my hear
he is unfailingly polite
My other friend, this might be
surprising for some, Elon Musk
he represents what I'm not
a great poet of technical matters
I also sense his loneliness; it's not
easy to be wealthy, to have and not
to have plays on his mind
a good man that is all that matters
Not to forget Joneve, who took in
my poems, warts and all, until she
detected sloppiness and refused
to take in some poems, by doing so
I had to sharpen my game for that
I'm grateful
If you look in the corners,
You'll find her sitting there.
Muttering in a tone softer,
That she is nothing but a mere.
With her head inside the book,
She indulges herself in an imaginery world.
Where things are exactly the same as they look,
Instead of the promises which are actually curled.
As she dives deeper, begin to find the peace within,
Forgets about the grief and isolation, and feels the joy in her skin.
Reality is different,
From the world she went in.
Filled with loss and loneliness,
Unlike the abundance of love she felt therein.
-laxika
She led me by the hand
Through a green forest.
Twisting around the trunks,
Ducking beneath low branches.
I followed blindly in love
With the feel of her hand
And the utter sweetness
Of her breath on my cheek,
And her – encompassment.
She stopped in a clearing
But a few yards across,
Pulled herself against my hand
Until her lips covered mine
And her breast impressed
Pertly on my nakedness.
Our kiss was unending
And filled me with fire,
With secret understanding,
And a lust for life itself.
She breathed into my body
Something greater than air.
We held each others hands
As our twinned lips parted,
And I? I breathed out lust.
She mouthed silent words,
Smiled an angelic smile,
Unfurled her gorgeous wings,
And in a column of white
Rose toward the open sky –
Hands and arms outstretched
As if she had just placed
Me in this wooded scene.
The trees and I once more alone –
Free to navigate a way
Though the multitude of leaves
And questionable maneuvers.
I watched her elevation
‘Till she was a star, afar,
As night had brushed dark
Colours over her euphoric clouds.
I found myself reborn.
© Griffonner 2024
“I have an imaginary friend.
His name is Hope.
He sits next to me
And shows me pictures of
What our future could be.
He keeps away grief and sadness,
And says nothing less
Than all the good we made up
In our own heads.
They say Hope dies last.
He keeps you going,
Makes you feel good, real fast,
But leaves you behind
With what you should be knowing.
The thing with Hope,
He’s a villain in disguise.
Once he fades away,
You have to pay the price.
So deal with reality
Without an imaginary friend by your side.
You’ll regain your sanity,
And there are real people
Who will support you on your ride.”
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