Month: June 2019

MUSING|JUNE 26, 2016|2:29PM

forms of poetry

“if there’s any place you’d like to know, 
just let me know and we can go off
to a place that’s far away . . .
another place, another day, 
another way for our escape,
another path for us to take,
before we step and break away.
we’ll have our day, we’ll have our day”

shimmering undertones of a moth forever trapped beneath the streetlights.

picturing attachment to a pair of wings,
unnoticed in liberty and
feeling unsought in the air;
until the descent.


what is there to see
when there’s only two hues:
a negative brilliance
with positive dimness.

what is there to feel
in the rest of the day,
when night is made
sorrowful for the remainder.

what is it to hear
what’s supposed to be right
but, is only what’s left
to be said from the past.

what is it . . . to rise . . .
while being oblivious,
and, only to find
that it all was a ruse . . .

JESTERS


tried to take a step outside the cave
and everyone saw,
and everyone laughed.
and everyone yelled.
but, none understood.

tried to leave it all,
and to leave for good,
and it wasn’t allowed . . .

promised no looking,
they promised no laughing,
they promised no yelling . . .
they promised understanding . . .

fools . . .

all just fooled . . . all just fools . . .