thoughts

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

Outbound again

It begins

The slow lurch of movement

Pulling away from you

 

For a time I can still feel

The ghost of your lips

linger

On mine

The caress of fingertips

Echoes through my hair

Roots damp with sweat

The remainder of memories

Left with me

Within me

 

The scent of you

 

Breathing deeply it is all I can do

To revive the memory of you

Hands clenched around me

Skin soaked under your heat

Forcing a smile to my lips

 

As I sit absorbing the dull vibrations

Closing my eyes to blurred landscape

Shutting out the rumble of the carriage

Cursing that which takes me away from you

The slow tide of time

There lies a sadness
which lingers
Hovering over my heart
Hiding within my soul
And it haunts me
Both day and night

A cloud of stillness
Sitting on the face of time
Applying resistance to hands
Reaching out for the future

Seconds are dragged
Held hostage to the present
Minutes that trickle
Into stagnant hours
Flecked with fragments of gloom
Of despair

So I sit
And I wait
For the inevitable change
Which never ever comes

Chasing pieces of me

It is entirely too much

to keep up with all of me

All of the time

It’s apparent that somewhere

Along the twisted lines

Of facades, personalities

Alternate appearances

Somehow I have come adrift

My connections worn free

Where once appeared a fluid

but singular form

Now houses a choir of voices

A crowd of faces-filtered

Over surface and manner

In place of a rollercoaster of thoughts

The jumble of a mystery bag

Feelings that would pop at random

Currently sliced in parts

Each sliver of me

Claiming a name

Shouting in secular voice

Grasping an entire being

For its own

A shard of emotion enlarged

Forged into a solitary being

All calling out at once

Wriggling from my grasp

And leaving me lost

An empty vessel

hollowed of being

Desperately chasing pieces of me

Attempting to be whole again