Archive for November 10, 2017

the seesawing of my mind

the seesawing of my mind …

sleepless nights creep past,

clawing at the edges of my mind,

days spent shuffling through the blur,

adrift, untethered,

clambering through the thicketty haze,


lost amidst the racing minutes,

revelling in an insom-maniacal daze,

at times reeling,

feeling spent,



the words, the scribbled verse,

for better or worse,

a sanctuary, secluded,

shielded from barbed tongues,

barbed words casually spoken,

seesawing, walking the tightrope,


fingers scraped,

wreaking bloodless wounds,

the quest continuing for a shard of hope,

the ability to cope,

staying afloat,

bracing the torrents,

ever mindful,

of being perched on the precipice,

of my seesawing mind,

fearful of sliding up-down,

the perennial slippery slope,

a man on a wire,

no safety net, no rope,

aching to stand up,

to walk unaided once again,

through the fog,

the blur,

the haze,

the daze,

lashed by these blizzards of pain,

through the thicket,

on a rapid runaway train,

hurtling against the embedded grain,

seeking respite,

craving refuge,

from the incessant,


slicing rain.

I want to kiss you so much more,

where bigotry no longer stabs at the core.

I want us arm in arm on long walks,

where prejudice these boulevards no longer stalks.

I want you, if you’ll have me,

we shall build our own world,

warm and loving and free … …

unreasonable rhyme …

reaching out for handfuls of hope, the scarlet sky painted bright, shedding the detritus of day, welcoming brooding night,

shattered dreams like shards of glass, litter the crimson floor, punctured wounds flee, behind every closed door,

the rain falls like ashen tears, sweeping the boulevards clean, tattered rags shroud expectations, famished and lean,

rainbows merge into a raucous canvass wildly sketched, feelings stab at the heart, each dagger deeply etched,

is there really only one truth, standing naked and bare, beyond the alleyways of darkening emotions, stripping away all care,

the smiles turn plastic, all joy fleeing past, leaving stranded passengers, never knowing how long the wait will last,

when does sorrow end, scabs and wounds just starting to mend, or is pain like hope, ever elusive, ever just around the bend,

when trees weep, as poison slowly into their roots begin to seep, how long do the thoughtful frolic, how much longer do the sentient sleep,

left behind to mop up the coarse floor, humanity slithers out the main door, the legacy – a rotting festering sore,

these words make no sense to me, they prance on the page blinding my eyes, discarding reality as ever hurried time flies,

why write such drivel at all, knowing the words will slip and fall,

perhaps to jar me into wakefulness, or else I would sleep through it all.

earthy scent …


Rain on parched earth, the rejuvenation of life,

nature showering her realm with promise.

Rain falling, infusing the rebirth of dusty leaves,

nourishing the roots of thirsty trees.

The rains remind me of you, the earthy aroma replenishing the day,

your earthiness firmly rooted, revelling in the trees that in the rains sway.


The rains are much akin to you, as I imbibe renewed hope from your cauldron of giving.

The rains are much akin to you, as I breathe again, for you make each day worth living.

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