Escapism

My Secret Place

Sometimes I find my self awake

only to find that I'm not there

I'm off in my secret place

where I can write without a care

when this life is feeling fake

I  sit with the wind in my hair

feel the smile creep on my face

and write away all my despair

feel like I'm floating in space

but I'm right here in my chair

if there's a heaven, this is a taste

I feel only writing can get me there

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The facts denied

Nothing is sacred, I've forsaken all decorum,

There are no longer words I'd avoid saying

In a public forum.

All meaning is lost,

It has been spent on words less dear,

So now it shouldn't matter what I say

It would not be worth your time to hear.

I have said so many things,

Bared so much what of my soul is left,

I've given you so much of me in words bereft.

Now I feel their loss when

In empty messages I impart

The seedy interior of this brothel-

My heart.

It's a wonder to me as I'm sure it is to you

Why and how I reject myself competely,

Why defending my dignity

Is something I no longer feel the need to do.

It started with the drive to reveal

What had been so long obscured,

Sentenced to the darkness,

Which in its silence I trusted

More than being heard.

Now I've revealed the contents of my soul,

There isn't much left to hide.

I don't know the meaning of discretion

No that there's nothing unknown inside.

The only territory yet untrod

Is a mystery yet to see

To anyone but God,

For whom I choose to tell

My heedless truths and lies

Is missing the more there is to me

That in my selfless exposure

Escapes even the most focused of eyes.

The veil of enigma has been drawn aside,

Only to trade silence for stories,

The facts denied.

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Losing Allies

I live on my own self-effacing terms,

I'd rather be my enemy than ally.

For a protagonist, the truth will often belie,

While an antagonist finds a way

Upon it to rely,

Putting on masks of the world in reply

And losing more pride every day.

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Nothing Ever Changes

Folder: 
Soul Poetry

 

 

Its only wishful thinking
when every day remains as is.

 

Nothing ever changes,
nothing ever will.

 

This coldness seeps so deep
that not even a blanket over my soul
could warm me now.

 

This alone-ness is so damn loud
in this utter and deafening silence,
that my sobs only echo back.

 

I've tried in every way I know,
yet all I do is tainted by failure,
marred by imperfections.

 

My faults are highlighted in blood red.
Oh, how they love to touch upon
that which breaks me down.

 

Everything I do is subject to ridicule,
subject to the hurling words of pain,
and I stand alone in their path.

 

I'm given no encouragement to fight,
only put down and put aside
as blindly, they turn away.

 

How can one be victorious
when one is all there is?

When there's no one who has your back?

 

Oh, they are there, at my back-
but only behind me
to stab me as I turn.

 

And how such wounds hurt deeper
than all pains inflicted, combined.

How jaggedly, they scar.

 

Were I to be gone today, now,
gone from here forever,
they wouldn't even see my departing shadow

as I left.

 

I'd be a mere memory of
one who passed through,
hardly noticed and only in their way.

 

They'd only miss what I did for them-

and not who I was.

 

Leaving life now,
would be so peaceful,
so timely and so desperatly needed.

 

Its only wishful thinking
when every day remains as is.

 

Nothing ever changes,
nothing ever will.

 

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new friends

Embarking on ideas of delight

Began we my friend, and I

Conversing on life love desire

Sparking in the other the fiercest fire

Within our searching young minds

To bond in a way

Seldom betrayed

My friend and I, we dig

Until we see our smiles so big

Our faces are sore

Only with one another

Can we guarantee

We won’t be bored

Interacting in ways

That are uniquely

Belonging to me and he

Do I begin to see

My friend, mind melded

Thinking alike, enthusiastically welded

In thoughts we will always keep

In the spot we hold so deep

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Mission

water caught

on fire tongues

where skeletons dance

for gypsy babies

close encounter

with an iron

made me

a blind girl

ran up the river

just to

become a part

of the solar system

but of course

i lost

those paperbacks

in the film

enjoyed my

visit with stalin

but i'm going

far back

hitting time

with a dish

of sweet

bavarian cream

until the

world looks clean

and white

and sweet

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For Winter.

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One's Eyes

What's in your eyes?

I asked thrice.

So many do not recognize

So many have told lies!



How many have fault?

How many had that jolt?

Count if you can

Only to see again!

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Santa's Grotto

I don’t know if you have ever seen ,

But in Santa’s grotto you can’t be mean.

In the moonlight there are twinkling lights,

It’s a lovely scene if it is in sight.





Inside are fantastic rooms,

No fancy machines with dust that looms

I can’t wait until Santa comes

His sledge bells ringing with a slight hum.





So come on Santa come on quick

And give all the poor children the very first pick

We will all be sleeping soundly in bed,

so please  give me a pat on the head!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My daughter Briony Marie wrote this aged 10! A wonderful festive poem!

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She Will Survive

I see this pearl emerging

from this rocked street.

She will dance upon

Luna’s beaming surface.



But will she knows my truth,

walking over daggered glass,

bleeding for eternity just

to save her from this hell.



My roughed diamond

will be polished and shimmer,

blinding the bewitched city of

grime slithering loneliness

choking it from her voice.



I am damned,

but grace will fly

upon swift wings

glittered with amethyst.



SHE will escape.

SHE WILL rise above.

SHE WILL SURVIVE!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

October 4, 2004

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