Wednesday, February 13, 2019

Feel Everything

Stifled, gagged
bound by pills to close
the heart- 'don't feel everything'
Mask the symptoms, dull the senses
but the feelers are the anchor
Society falters; dreamers wear 
the halter top of love and values

It's not a temper tantrum 

but a pervasive longing for authenticity
Integrity, mixed with a smidge of reason
but not to the point of coldness
A fire rages, underneath the torso
A blaze burns in the soul,
ignited by a passion for the otherworldly

No ties to the concrete,

but not suicidal- incomplete,
without the freedom of expression
Don't let them tell you to stifle that cry;
'to feel is to exist' said Rousseau,
it was the same for Wollstonecraft too,
they just couldn't relate- Blake felt her heat

You are the tether to sanity,

while we wait for the Angel of Death;
existing to 'feel everything' and balance
the seesaw of society between robotic
and spontaneous; if we lose, it would be heinous

though nonetheless, our world is not here,
we're just passing through

Wednesday, February 6, 2019

Falling through a Dream

Free falling, in undulating fashion,
the dream, built a world of fantasy,
for me to savor

Emerald-stoned buildings, spoke of Hobbits,
and Wizards; places I longed to visit -
peaceful settings and adventures awaiting
my feet to discover

Jutting mountains, with peaks like spears,
beckoned me to climb, their daggered surfaces;
snow-capped summits, looked down at the green,
as I fell - down, down, down towards the serene,
that cradled me in it's pom pom blades

I fell through a dream today,
as gravity sucked me in,
towards the dream's rim; I could never run away,
for the dream always beckoned me to stay

Sunday, January 20, 2019

My Religion

My religion, is poetry -
my mind the church
Where imagination burns,
hotter than a torch

All is well,
where innovation dwells
Here, inside this limitless shell

My mind roams free;
with poetry,
anything, I'll be

No rules, no dogma,
no pastor or priest;
just me and my thoughts;
my pen; my tree

My religion is poetry,
my mind, the church,
where creativity is shaped,
and lyrics, burst forth with haste

Come inside, taste and see,
come and read,
bring your tea

For my religion,
will TRULY, make you free

The Path to Truth

In life, you'll find,
somewhere along the line,
truth and peace of mind
One crossroad, reveals,
what another conceals

A door will open, others will close
Some clues, will be distant;
others, on the tip of your nose

Whatever your path in life,
don't struggle against it in strife
Simply let it lead you to the next road
It's there you'll look back and realize,
another truth has unfold

Friday, January 18, 2019

Night's Song

Where evening descends,
there's a quiver of mystery -
the tempting fever to join in night's reverie

Moon sky, clouds drift by;
in the moment, all around me seems to fade,
when suddenly, I'm awe-struck, at how heavenly bodies relate

Stardust sprinkles down,
causing the trees to smile, like a child on Christmas morn',
while lightning bugs glow, among the warmth of the dark

Here I am, in the midst of celestial mists,
and the creature's cries and coos,
to drift me off peacefully, into a dreaming fool

Orginally published in the Penwood Review


Oh, the mistakes I've made,
putting stock in a trade
and worrying over the trivialities of life
How I wish I'd known, to hold dear,
those raindrops - nature's tears

Now, I wander through notes and rhythms;
rhymes on pages full of philosophical dreams
I spend my days, thinking upon,
the end of all things - the eternal sleep

In the finale, none of it matters,
so I'll take each day as it comes,
and ignore all the chatter from empty forum splatter
The vomit of ignorance, does not ring true;
all that matters is in front of my eyes,
not things I've accrued (which isn't saying much)

No, I'll take each day in stride,
and concentrate on what's ahead instead of behind;
the great equalizer gives and takes,
and I'll meet him one day, realizing to never put stock,
in the inaneness of this life

Monday, January 7, 2019

Winter Time

Winter time is in charge,
as I sip upon a bubbling concoction,
of thoughtfulness and relief
 -old man Winter has led me astray,
into the depths of my soul;
this is where I will grow old,

with the wisdom of poets,
and philosophers from the past;
they are the ones with whom I feel a kinship,
and at last I can breath in a sigh of relief;
the cold and it's chill is a welcome blast

Feel Everything

Stifled, gagged bound by pills to close the heart- 'don't feel everything' Mask the symptoms, dull the senses but the feeler...