Short Personas Poems

found this notebook today
It had six poems
unrecognizable
but written by my hand
not unlike most other days
my personas keeping secrets from each other
I am in no way surprised I recognize none of it
my usual...

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labyrinth of feelings
memories as distorted as a witch’s tit
plethora of emotions parade past me
dare I try to grab one?
What would be the point?
It might be my memory
but it might be the memory of one of my other personas
We are in full force today...

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It is all here
the quietude I needed
the silence I require
The solitude I covet

So I can delve into a book
Becoming the heroine, or the hero,
living the life we all want to lead

I sit for hours, soaking up new personas
Loving myself more every minute...

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The story of your life

Is just the same as mine

We may be born in different dates

Different strokes we draw in line

Different hues and colors we paint

Persons of strange worlds mates

Personas not molded as saint

But blooms and ends in a story

  on the same road of life's fates....

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we hid behind
social facades 
creating social 
personas 
that we portray 
on lives stage 
for all to witness 
till eventually  
the lines 
between fact and 
fiction become blurred 
and we become lost in 
the fictional fog of 
day to day life 
within this superficial 
society that we all live in...

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Sometimes we keep holding to the pasts
Hoping that we will never be hurt again
Allow few people ever to get to know us
Choosing to lock away our true personas
Knowing that we keep hurting ourselves
Learning to accept the pains of the past
Ensures that we can shape our futures
Sometimes we just have to let it go...

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SANS 7


Each end begins a new spin
As impulse meets odd boundaries
Each start embraces the end
As assorted personas tangle
In a disturbing web of circumstance
Beyond the grasp of simple notions
In the complex seduction of the simple
Where fickle fancy consorts with madness

~~~~~~~~~




Leon Enriquez
05 October 2019
Singapore...

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Respect you lack
For you and I
Careless your actions
A symphony of lies

Look me in the eyes
When you stutter words
Don’t look at the ground
Your personas absurd

Think back to long ago
When our love was there
Spreading like wild fire
I remember, I swear

Although maybe it was me
Who was in awe by you
Maybe I was the one in love
You simply existed without a clue

© Stacy Lynn Stiles...

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Olivia does not shapeshift into an owl
she is never not one, her hooting is real
shapeshifters can separate their animal personas
Olivia does not attempt it; their connection cannot be severed
they are one as female, as human, and as owl
her brown eyes are keen, her talons pull apart her food
she masticates with delight as she feeds her young
concrete thinkers stay away from her nest, not understanding...

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Parachutes and pillboxes clamor,
such a colorful rumba of
mood elevators locked in time-
released buffers. They can't wait,

they can't wait for the future,
with stanisodium fluoride
and beta blockers, humming
walls of dazzle in high-def,

explosions and collisions in rich
clarity with those smug ties
and flirty personas. Clearly
those farmers didn't want

freedom enough if they weren't
happy being blown into
confetti in a grand unveiling
of just what globalism means....

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Secretive woman,
no longer shy girl,
hidden within,
the layers of a book.
slowly turn the pages, 
take it all in,
the pictures don't always tell the story.
the words, 
fill in the missing spaces.
write your own lines;
when you reach the end,
add to, improve, gently.
don't try to change the story,
its written in a fabric stronger then stone;
continue the story, 
with new characters,
interweiving personas.
once shy girl, 
turned to secritive woman,
blooming in her beauty....

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