My Ears Always Ring

I sit in this sun baked corner
no one to offer me shade
while so many climb into my closet
where they wrench from their guts
so many secrets and lies
pound on my insides when outraged
never once imagining the way
this makes me feel so used.

They never care I am so sensitive
unto being their place to vent intimacy
make me endure hearing
every sordid detail of a life
that I can’t ever shared.

So I have to see the sky and dream
Let those tales I must tolerate
That they sing so passionately
Into my essence with their details
paint me with such vivid longings,
still they are only mind mirages for me,
none carry the anguish I suffer
from my dread over a lack of feet.

All I can do is be their comfort,
hold them in silence as they vent
let each emotion sting my inner core
and quietly hold onto my fantasy
over how someday I too
might know of love
untarnished by the perils unto my sanity
by the forced concrete servitude.

 

The Stripes Of The Sun

Lines of radiance
burn deep into the mind,
cut their vibrant etchings
into the crannies where we scream,
we shelter our thoughts from their creations
or worship their scorching
by the images they induce
only never can we say
there is no artist in the dawn,
no tattoo that is placed
upon the morning.

Whatever the eyes choose to see
among the brushes of rays
will be the tints we mix
within our own brains,
where some feel a sting
others a caress,
but it always leaves a mark
for us to love or protest.

 

Glimpses

Gallery glimpses
framing frozen seconds
in ballerina charade.

Leotard life
forms a hangman noose,
dangling from crystal chandelier
shining upon her opulent
display case cell.

Shudders from toxic masquerade
fractured the glassy veil.

Finally heading
out into the light
upon the stage
made of concrete and asphalt,
dancing for the first time
in moves not rehearsed,
steps as if in the sky
when done to a song
that you wrote yourself.

A Simple Stroll

I shall treat your precious pooch as if he were my own,
so proud I would be to take him for a simple stroll.

And show him the sights of Hollywood
a walked down its enchanted avenues,
stopping a Hollywood and Vine
where dreams were made,
before step or two along the Walk of Fame
so we can touch each celebrity star
while I told him all the tales about their famous name.

Then inhale the visual panoply of eye feasts
over every denizen of its cinematic realm.
Taking him to see the Wax Museum,
maybe even a fabulous meal at a taco stand
sitting next to a woman dressed
as the Statue of Liberty that is named, Godiva Jones,
who keeps her Martian buddies
in her grocery cart, underneath her ball of lint
and collection of empty beer cans.

Next we could mosey to admire all the ladies
dressing in their provocative attire,
being sure I pointed out their rainbow colored mustaches.

Also the wonderful guys
peddling maps to the star's homes
wearing raincoats in July,
but nothing else
except for black socks and red sneakers.

And if we had the time,
to show him all the friendly folks,
couples, men holding hands with their buds,
ladies walking arm and arm
all enchanting in their black leathers.

Would certainly be day to remembered,
perhaps even get out picture taken as a souvenir
from a guy wearing a tin foil pyramid on his head,
he says the pictures will be ready on Tuesday,
providing the world doesn't it.

Ah, it will be precious memory to cherished always
even introducing him to all those with their own pets,
which only they can see.

Silver Sojourns

Tattling tales the tongue translates
from each layer of seconds lived.
Does the voice that sleeps in the mind
really have a compass for the night?

Beguiled of lust and vented by quips,
each glance into the looking glass critic
is cause for invention and excuse.

Never comes the day of reconciliation
when eyes and image are in harmony
just passages from our past and future.

We hold with a ticket to lofty isles
where one is divine, unblemished and holy
it evaporates in our gazes
as face staring back into our secrets
stirs so many oxymorons one tried to live.

Somewhere in the questions one can't answer,
the reflection journey traveled reaches a pit stop
whether it become oasis or cemetery
depends on how close to truth
one cares to dwell.

Faith's Cliff

What conviction
vows with
fervent lips
and what heart
believes,
only becomes truth
when life pushes
one off faith's cliff,
either trusting God's wings
or decides gravity
is death sentence.

Liberty

Trapped in the realm of mummified souls,
the stallion inside so longs to run free,
but the day is stale and suffocating
so tarnished by the tainted thoughts
that stain the heart and ruined the vision.

Softly speaks the feathered siren,
a creature awakened by winds of encouragement
who slumbers in the mind so very encumbered
unable to imagine breathing or dreaming
with hope and power to truly believe
there is life beyond this crippling mental morgue,
somewhere totally filled with liberty.

Slowly the dawn rises within the spirit
when the still small voice inside
urges, and inspires to hold
onto the plumes of independence
and feel the fresh clean air of true reliance
upon those quiet ascensions
above the tombs where so many are prisoner.

Oh gently glide that finally brings release
unto the life so it can float with bliss,
touch the skies never before reached,
While eventually realizing
the wake of transcendence
that siren was God’s presence
as wisdom’s expression in awakening.