Posts Tagged ‘emotions’

Feeling a touch nonsensical today,
Feeling a dash ridiculous,
My mind is scarlet jelly,
These thoughts are hundreds and thousands,

Once lost which way does a page turn?

Can a cookie become a chef?

Does winter prevail in many competitions?

Can a merchant learn to sale a ship?

Does my coffee need some medicine?

Can a mansion ever be a lady?

Random thoughts dart about,
I know I’m not making any sense,
But did I ever?

Nonsense

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The mind is a prison,
Shackles and all,
All your ideas are kept there,
All your machinations are bound there,
Your minds eye is temporarily blindfolded,

Upon request these treasures are released,
Creations given wing,
On to page and stage,
To captivate and terrify,
To enlighten and appall,

But something has designs on these gems,

Writers block,
The plague of the author and artist,
A malady so harrowing,
So abominable,
So soul-crushing,

Now my mind is blocked,
The affliction comes for me,
It’s an unwanted guard to my prison,
Authorizing no creative release,
Me and my psyche are in solitary,

Will we ever be released?

Writersblock

We are criminals,
We are dead men walking,
Smugglers and felons all,

A pall falls over our vessel,
A dark mist,
A palpable guilt,
As if the sea knows our illicit purpose,

A distant lighthouse stands guard,
Its light is our doom,
The tension is tangible,

The white coast is a reminder that we are outcasts,
The cliffs tell us we are doomed,
The chines call with a foil behind their backs,
The surf tries to drag us to the gallows,

Our vessel a prize for the law,
Our cargo a trophy for Customs,
The disquietude is discernible,

Waves lash at the hull like blades,
A far-off sentry spies us,
The sea knows,
The sea grins.

Smuggler

I gaze out of my window,
And up into the sky,
That sapphire display of experiences and worlds unknown,
That projection screen for hopes and fears,
I see other worlds that are out of reach,
Or are they imaginary?

The great azure sky looms over,
Acting as a backdrop for my minds eye,
The sun illuminates it,
Acting as a catalyst for what I see,
The clouds act their little plays,
Trying to obscure the enigmas I see,

I see worlds of splendor,
I see nightmare-scapes,
I see fiends and seraphs,
Horrors unbound,
And otherworldly monsters,
Oh the monsters,

Alien worlds that are wholly unknowable,
Stars shimmering every colour of this world,
And many that are not,
Worlds of untold beauty and potential,
And worlds of misery and black lightning,
I’ve seen these before in my dreams,

Then I become cognizant of something,
I was staring into a mirror all along,
A window into the human soul.

Unknown

I haveĀ a problem,
I seem to be lacking in power recently,
I’ve never really been pushed,
I’ve never been overcharged,
I’ve neverĀ been struck by lightning,
My consciousness lacks a certain electricity,

No power,
No motivation,
No current,
No ambition,
No voltage,
No impetus,

Do I need an electrician?
A new battery?
A new transistor?
A heart-shaped motor?
An inspirational amplifier?
Does my negative have no positive?

Why do I have no power?
Does my meter need some change?

Nopower

I gaze upon the moon each night,
I sit in the dark,
Staring skyward,
My eyes reach out,
They can’t reach her,
They’re not worthy.

Crescent full or gibbous,
Her dazzling form lights up the dark,
An astral goddess,
An empowering icon,
A source of inspiration,
Playing kiss-chase with the clouds.

So why do I see a second moon beside me each night?
And beside me each day?
A moon of such astronomical beauty,
That it blots out even the lunar goddess,
Earthly yet still heavenly,
A goddess of a different kind.

Then I realize,
You are my second moon,
Superior in every way.

2ndMoon

The puppet sleeps soundly,
He smiles in his sleep,
Dreaming endlessly of a life unfulfilled,
A pointless life,
An empty life.

He dreams of paying obscene taxes,
He has notions of amounting to nothing,
He fantasizes about voting for tyrants,
He dreams of a dead-end job,
His life is not his own.

He has nightmares of a better life,
Nightmares of relaxation,
Nightmares of aspiring for more,
Nightmares of finding romance,
His life is that of a manikin.

His strings wait calmly,
Waiting for a new day,
A new dance,
A new missed chance,
A day closer to the rubbish heap.

And then he awakens,
This puppet is not made of wood,
But of flesh and bone,
His puppeteer is no entertainer,
But a society that doesn’t truly care.

Then the puppet puts on his suit,
And goes to work.

Puppet

When life bears down,
I retreat to my old friend,
A tonic they call Absinthe,
A soothing barrier against life,
It dulls the edge of the world.

I slink back to my den,
My haven,
The candles burn softly,
As they waltz to an inaudible beat,
I begin to take my remedy.

That emerald nectar,
With all the qualities of poison,
Each sip instills a viridian shade of inspiration,
Each bubble is a window to worlds unknown,
Each gulp is a shot of escapism.

The room spins violently,
Like a portal to a new land,
The night distorts into flashes of green and black,
The remedy works its magic,
My old life is soon forgotten.

What will the morning bring?
Who knows?
I could be in a new world,
Or beyond the grave,
Absinthe makes it all possible.

Absinthe

Let me die,
Bleed out or succumb to plague,
Do not mourn for me,
Scatter me and my memories to obscurity.

Forgive me if you must,
But certainly forget me,
Reduce me to naught but ash,
Do not start a tears life in my stead.

I shall not mourn the passing of this world,
It is and was nothing to me.

Nihilism

The scales of the judiciary are straining,
Sob stories and crocodile tears can tip them,
Lenient justice.

A nameless man kills many innocents,
But he has a wife and children,
Lenient justice.

An addict slits a barflys throat,
But she has a diseased mind,
Lenient justice.

A young bandit beats and robs an old crone,
But he has no home,
Lenient justice.

A cackling clown takes children away in his van,
But he is from a far away place,
Lenient justice.

A husband beats his wife to the edge of dying,
But he has friends in high places,
Lenient justice.

Lenient justice is the order of the day,
Criminals drink to their crimes,
While victims lament in their anguish,
The scales have tipped.

Justice