thoughts

The Monster Within

It calls to me at night,
The beast shrouded in darkness.
Silent calls echoing in my mind,
Reverberate through my heart
And pierce my soul.

Each night he lays,
At the foot of my bed,
Waiting until my thoughts drift.
Only then will he pounce,
Tearing ideas, limb from limb
Allowing only tattered dreams.

Then in the morning, he sleeps.
Content in his role, fulfilled
Leaving me only with fragments.
Scorched cinders of denial.
Crushed bastions of brilliance,
Fallen around my feet.

 

Living without passion

..

Without conflict could we still survive, would we still want to live in our ever revolving faceless world of placation? Would we miss having fire in our bellies? Miss having passion and love and anger? Without emotion are we even really living or merely existing?

If you were able to live forever without the fresh breeze on your face, or the spray of the waves of the sea falling in mists on your skin, or without ever hearing the rising call of the lark or feel the warmth on the skin of your cheek: would this be living?

Some days are like that

Some days it fits
Everything falls into place
Neatly, precisely
Each component slides
Inside predetermined slots
Like a perfect Tetris score
An endless game of snake

Some days it all works
Like its supposed to
With a clear aim in mind
The day hurtles towards its goal
Firm in the knowledge
there will be no hitches
No hidden surprises, no sudden flaws

Some days are like this
Today, is not such a day

Camping Under The Pink Moon

A pickle full of poets

A pocket full of rhyme

A folder full of bookmarks

And all for saving time

A vast array of forums

Of word and wit unknown

Those crosses on the calendar

Emit an eerie tone

And when the hands crossover

And champs begin to sing

Encouragement that drove her

Might melt away to spring