Escapism

My Own Little World

Where river runs to ocean

and Ocean runs to seaside

I am in my own world

a world where I can hide



I can hide from anything

it's my own safe place

a place where I am all alone

without a single face



In my world is only sunshine

for only me to find

I feel only happiness

and sadness left behind

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KALEIDOSCOPE.

Stern hard face of reality

Frowning in distaste.

The frivolity

Of my ideas,

The waste!



I see in others things not found,

Perhaps they never were.

Dress the bald head

In soft tresses

Of hair.



But how sad for the poor dreamer,

From a summer's lane

To the hard streets,

Cold winter wind

And rain.



May I keep my kaleidoscope,

For when day is done

Its colours dance,

Reality

Is gone.

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If You Were Here

I lay here needing something

my bed feels so big and empty and cold

If you were here I'd hug you so tight

a hug so tight it would chase away all the thoughts

that I wish would leave my head

I want to see you

because just seeing you would make all this go away

But for now I will curl into a ball

Trying to stay warm

Trying to forget what tugs at my brain

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Lost

Folder: 
Darkness



I am lost in a world

of beautiful images and words

I created.

Seeing as there,

I have control.



The tones and hues,

I dictate,

The rhyme and verse,

I rule.



Everything is fragrant,

Picturesque and peaceful,

My mind is at rest.



There is no torment

or fear in this glorious world,

I fashioned.



Don’t’ look for me,

Or try to bring me back,

to the real world,

where there is pain,

anxiety and unrest.



Let me wander

Forever in my world.




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Hiding

Folder: 
From The Heart



I am hidden in the dew

that lays on the delicate mauve tips

of the roses in the English garden.



I hide in the fragrant earl Grey

that is sipped

from Grandma’s tea set

on the terrace above.



I hide in the bold colorful strokes

of the artist’s brush

in the Prussian blue sky

of his landscape.



I hide in the shadowy sinister words

of the dark poem

written in my blood.



How long will I hide?



Till the answer

is  revealed.


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WHEN THE LIGHTS TURN LOW

There's a moment

Midst all the chatter

When the projectionist

Brings a hush to the matter

As if, with a will and whim

When the lights turn low

He says "Let the magic begin!"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

OK, I admit it, I'm a movie buff!

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ON THE SIGH OF A DREAM

You pass by, and my years sigh. Stillness pervades my whole being as I watch you, and time becomes motionless. How did you invade a place in me where I vowed no one would enter?

Now that you are here I have become accustomed to your presence so I keep you as my prisoner; a treasure, in my house of fantasies. Or is it I who have become the prisoner, in my own treasure house?

Walking near the Lake Of Meadows I see us lingering, through the cattails, the blackeyed susans and the queen annes lace. Holding me in your arms we moved  in unison to the gentle sway of natures ornaments as she tenderly exhaled her lifebreath across the fields and over the water, creating ripples in sympathetic motion which engaged  the lillypads into their own unique dance of a water ballet.

Totally absorbed with the completness of the moment, I felt a delicate smile pass over my lips as if a butterfly had just paid them a brief visit, and tenderly brushed them with her wings.
The grandiousity of this moment moves me to view our reflection for all it's beauty within the depths of the reflection of this liquid mirror lake; where upon opening my eyes, I see...you merely passed by, on a sigh in my dreams.

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In The Depths Of My Conciousness...

breathe in

like im running out of air

or as if its the last

breath of life left

for me to take

its always been heavy

decadence came twice to this

hopeless indolence from

trying to find my

personal saviour

i always get inside a vacuum

of unfamiliar friends and

things i owned that

i never really used

but still kept just to

create a cluttered confusion



ive singled out myself

as alienated from

your realities and

the abuses made by your

prophets your authority

and your redeemer



i hate it when these

things are disclosed right

before my eyes

they blind me

they overshadow my view

on that haze

they direct me down that

edge of damnation

a demise i solely embraced

with gratitude and hope

and trust



your tears become the

juice of my veins

they poison me and trick

me into forcing myself to

be in sacred warmth

with righteousness



i hate it when you

make me do things that steal

others of their freedom

to stay away from what is

known and stereotypical sh!t



i hate it when i cant get

myself into something

that would please both

our worlds



i just hate it when you

wake me up from my addiction

to this dream

i hate what you do but i

never hated you and now

breathe out.










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"My Adolescent Room"

by Jeph Johnson

 

yesterday I hid oblivious
in youthful confines
surrounded by
my innermost convictions...
I could not rhyme outside.
headphones braced my head
like I'd fallen from a horse pre-gallop,
still gripping my pen;
a smoking, cocked 'n loaded
weapon of extremes.
my notebook teetered on my belly
while I fell asleep
to crunching spandex guitar.
the real torture of adolescence
(still hidden from friends
who learned the lessons
of liquor and lasciviousness
in tighter quarters)
was waking to the phonograph needle
echoing rhythmic dead air.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2001

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