Introspection Writing Poems

Jamais Vu ~ "The feeling of being unfamiliar with something that is familiar. The opposite of deja vu."

These days, life is shroud in a fog...

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I’m not one but a whisper -
          I’m nothing ‘cept a sham
    ...

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Sitting in my writing chair
illuminated by a single candle
and light from a waxing gibbous moon
penetrating my office window.

This would work for an hour or so
until...

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I evacuate
sitting on a throne
of waste…

till something live
emerges – taking
inspiration, wherever 
it comes from…

the writer strains

filling bowls

and wastepaper baskets

inspiration navigating
internals     ...

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What am I looking for, what am I hiding
reunited with my past self, can't help but repent;
did I lose myself or am I still finding,
hoping...

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Avoiding taboo and chasing followers
has taken art in a bromidic direction;
Everyone’s so worried about blowback! 
Creativity is now clouded imagery;
Softened up playing to the masses,
no...

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Like the strokes of an artist’s brush
Painting a self-portrait of my life
The colors are people, events, and experiences
Each stroke flows into the next creating the...

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I’ve got a million words floating around my head
Used to construct rhyming sentences.
Cohesive thought is the author’s thread
For sewing poems of past remembrances.

Some make sense;...

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When trying to grasp thoughts through our mind’s haze,
It’s like trying to escape a thought maze.
As the bits and pieces accumulate,
How will they connect, how...

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What do you call art
certainly not 
lines I pen
emotion
you well know 
touches the nerve
moreover
prose





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Poetry has always been with me, I just didn’t know it.
I didn’t know verse and lines of rhymes 
      ...

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Behind these clenched jaws
and dagger-in-the-heart smiles
I have a voice

Behind the silent soft eyes
and lingering sadness in my being
I have a voice

Behind my pen that scribbles...

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stop sitting in that Paris street
you know I hate it when you crash
through all the flags that people wear
and all the chords are played by...

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Courage cannot speak for you now
When there are ten a penny hangers on 
All suckling milk from the cow

Rivers flood with the cries of veiled...

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