I cannot write amidst a seething intent
to injure an insulated place,
My thoughts immerse their christened
desires…
and I abide
I cannot write ill of words
unlike my own…
As they foresake undying truth
If the will of untruth
delivers my noose,
I will write unhindered…
I will not stay if you say so,
I cannot write of it
with you there
I cannot write abreast of quizzy sands
Every wave intends a riddle
I cannot keep in stride
I write it all in simple illusion
and press it in prose
You wear it pale and shadowed
And I shine it in rhythm with its fate
Oh how I would love to write
of this moment in a sentence
I write how I would never write again
and deny a crude indecision
I dream sometimes of the things I write
and write of things immemorial
A random string of sounds,
that seems so formal
I will stop writing if you tell me now
This life is but for you
I will insist you tell me why…
my guess is that you knew
Categories:
quizzy, future, goodbye, , memorial,
Form: I do not know?
Somehow I wake
and test every day’s resolve
To implant a view in me of a rising sun
and a moon that swims quietly alongside
So shadows can spread
and it can state its resilient case
Quietly
I ponder the case of life
Its persistent quest to quell protest
And derive a quizzy thought
from mundane efforts to exist
And ask why we cloud in mystery
this endless dance to spell a trance
and call tomorrow new
It shines the evil of man
And the hesitant flowery question of life
That turns sprightly
and leaves all answers unheard
It turned my loves around
till my heart quizzed me blind
A testy anguish later
it cried and left me a note
That it must leave my world
and craft a new forbidden love
while I twist a storm
into hope
that grows every day I wake
Categories:
quizzy, hope,
Form: Prose Poetry
Sleep is far from me.
My head is spinning.
I can't concentrate
On the edge of my bed.
My focus is off,
But I can see the antidote.
I'm stumbling forward.
I want the syrup,
The reason why I'm faint;
I'm weak and falling.
I'm going crazy for it.
I'm low, low, low.
My soul has a habit.
My body loves the medicine.
My heart is fully distracted.
My mind is confused.
Should I take it once again
And taste it with my lips?
Should I hide from intervention?
My stomach is quizzy.
My chest is in my throat
Remembering the high highs.
I make the call in the night
And I'm satisfied again
With its limited supply.
Categories:
quizzy, confusion, depression, hope, imagination,
Form: Free verse