You're the artist with the pen,
the painter with the brush,
the designer with the colour swatches.
You interpret your dreams,
give rise to your ambition,
create your ideal future.
Your vision crystallizes at will,
draws upon your imagination
to materialize your surroundings.
There may be times of ugliness
when the world seems dark and
intent on dragging you down.
Remember this too shall pass,
renew your closeness with nature
and replenish that innate beauty and joy.
As the battalion races into battle
You can hear a Saber rattle
But as we charge with guns a blazing loud
He can be seen, leading the crowd
A Ghost on horseback brilliant white
In his suit of armor a scary sight
No one can believe their eyes it seems
He should only be seen in blood curdling dreams
But to us he is as real, as we are
Like us has traveled very far
Not in miles, but in time
Like a hero in a nursery rhyme
As we charge on and vanquish our foe
A thousand soldiers all in a row
He leads by example from the front
The cannon fire, he bears the brunt
Can the enemy see him we all think?
Or is it only us, and a curse of the drink
Imaginary or real boldly we wonder
We frightened soldiers in a politicians blunder
As the battle rages, he disappears as quickly as he came
And none of us even knew his name
The late-summer track runs blue with deep shade,
While cicadas rasp in sun-whitened trees;
And ask what secret lives inside the breeze,
You clasp my hand where sandy gullies fade.
I show the compass, by the years decayed,
Whose faithful needle leans, and never flees;
We watch the foam that feathers on the seas,
While on the shore our wandering steps are made.
You ask where north goes, in your small voice calm,
As though the world was just this morning born;
You spy a blue-tounged skink beneath a thorn,
And hold a broken shell within your palm.
The compass points its north through dusk and foam;
Your wondering hand points farther still—to home.
What a picturesque panorama this is.
My eyes peer into the beautiful landscape
Of my vast, vivid imagination...
It is such a wondrous escape!
Funny, serendipitously finding you here
In this Shangri-La, patiently waiting for me.
Believe me, there is no place
On this earth I'd rather be!
Here we are, blissfully walking among
A serene golden field without a fuss,
As the unstable world crumbles
Like Gibraltar all around us.
What an adventure! It's a sheer thrill
Getting away from it all with you
We'll chase butterflies to our heart's content,
Misspend our time taking in the view.
In this haven of peace and tranquility,
We'll repeatedly sojourn; it's our royal domain,
A welcoming, breathtaking getaway
To come back to again and again.
broken souls and broken hearts,
the sleepless ones who look at torn stars,
the twinkling lights that blink afar,
city lights blurred with blinding cars,
are all befriended by the dreamless faces,
that look like lost and stolen art;
estranged glances and estranged words,
the sound of silence they've always heard,
fragrances of the night that are so absurd,
keep alive the sleepless ones who are lured,
by the dark and scary midnight,
when the sky bears no birds;
fluttering curtains and fluttering wind chimes,
the blazing noise that seeps in from the outside,
sleepless ones try their best to hide,
but Oh! It's already twilight,
the sun and moon sit beside,
while sleepless ones look at committed crimes;
a new dawn and a new day,
it has unwillingly arrived,
another night with no dreams,
another dark time where past screams,
when the moon hears no cries,
it means the sleepless ones have died.
Shine with a bright smile my dear
Shimmering with warmth of sun
Spark emerging in eyes full of emotions
Small flashes of decorations like glitter.
¦¦¦¦ the wonders I ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ have seen:
the sun, ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ the feathery gold of evening ¦¦¦¦¦¦
the ocean ¦¦¦¦ its vastness, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,
mysterious, ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ what will be, ¦¦¦ what has been.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I write,
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ from ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ night,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ half-discovered ¦¦¦¦¦¦ keeping.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦¦ thought of thee,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the wonders ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
(Blackout of To My Brother George by John Keats)
there was a vespa parked on road
billy the buffalo had never rode
it was huge hundred pounds
the vespa struggles under the sound
billy's bellow made it sickly plead
for peace against the massive beast
billy started the vespa fast
and horned loud and rode it past
houses looked at it with awe
uncle hari nicked his ear in awe
the dogs of street glared at it
people in their car stopped to see
it raced and raced till it reached the race
"STRONGEST SPORTS CAR WILL RACE"
billy entered the race with vespa
the poor thing almost collapsed hard
yet raced against fierce cars
till it reached the ending point bars
the buffalo got off and took the prize
the human in car watched in demise
the vespa took a final breath
and fell down on the pavement left
billy jumped into the lake
it had won the race for the vespa's sake
Vivid scrolls,
in tantalising yarns,
fantastic that reveal,
exotic envelopes of vista,
that have me transfixed,
and transported,
my brown hazel eyed,
gladsone gaze,
oe’r lush depiction,
bold brushstroke of,
myriad science fiction,
vibrant character snapshots,
that dispel monotony,
douse mundane patterns,
gap-filler of trite,
vacuous daily plod,
as I clasp otherworld,
enchantment in a dash,
novelists who exude,
endowed flourish with,
pockets of fly plots,
misleading labyrinth,
convoluted and intricate,
shady, cagy, fly-by-night,
side routes veering off,
adding riddles shadowy,
step by echoe’d step,
in hair-raising soundscape,
rushes of exhilaration,
stoke and fire,
iridescent wonderland,
escape into mythic mists,
entwined flames of romance,
laced with sumptuous,
dream moon flotillas,
a swooning heart march past,
yet I bystander engrossed,
by segue after segue.
Dusk
brings a sense of calm
Sultry tones of his laugh
rent my headspace
Wrap around my fingers
like a lightning rod
Flush my face with fantasies
but none are rated family
And my juvenile self wonders
What it's like
to be consumed by love...
I think I'm close.
I for one
I’m being strangled
by the radiance of his half-life essence.
Ubiquitous beauty,
bleeding through my AMOLED screen.
To truly appreciate it
I need this in 4D.
4D? Why not 3D?
Because... for me
I want to exist beside his.
If my beginning and end are the same,
I’d want them both to have his.
And if I spent it all for his
I’d be the happiest frivol.
Black as the ink
imagine,
octopus's favorite.
But before
it has a chance to dry,
water rises up
and black as tar,
My client starts to cry.
Pen is a center-fold,
All that smudge,
and believe me, its cold
words that have meaning,
gets lost when water
splashes so angry.
Words blur,
like underwater
chlorine.
Its in a way that's squealing
in a world so good & wicked
piggy little found,
and its curly little tail,
Forced to run home,
but so safe & sound
in the storms of the hail.
Arms of a garden gnome.
I wake up now or then
In between nevermore and forevermore
Over and over again
Repeatedly finding myself wondering where I have been
A slice of the clock - lost
But I always feel better with my Glock
Darkness swallows the light
Confusing the days and nights
Making falling into the looking glass
A fairytale delight
But wait, was it fight or flight
Before now or back when
Hard to tell, but who's to say
Today, tomorrow, wrong day, someday
Different space, familiar place, memory of face
A fall from grace, the challenge of the chase
Moments, minutes, months, days, anyways....
Knowledge
A large trove
Summed up
On a blank
Paper napkin
Gathering fantasies over here
Dog day stories having much cheer
Berries get loving stomp
Barbera wine we want
Arming our heart feeling cupid's spear
Dreams
sweet flow
hue’d treasure
cocoon one’s sleep
spells
dreams
fond wish
rapt vision
spot on target
spells
spells
bewitch
and taunt
flagging psyches
charms
hues
bright daubs
on pallette
Tincture limp eyes
shades
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