Living the Dream

Thoughts, like blood, scroll through vast
mapping of journey I test surface of

words, bursting like brain bubble
leaving me weak and one-sided
for as long as it takes for relief
by a shunted sluice onto some printable
material that soaks up my poems
like gauze gains color at a heavier weep

phrases, unrolling themselves; given birth
by flick of eye on a particular prism
bouncing off an evocative ellipse
that reminded me of home  of them  of you

of me, shouting, singing, mumbling
crying, moaning, laughing syllables
into the ether to roam round Universe
and find their way back to me

poems, like young faces, waiting in heaven
wistfully hoping I find a place for them
here in Muse’s womb.  Want for a spouting breast
of nuance’s nectar, restlessly pokes at my shoulder
saying, “Write!  For god’s sake, write!”

I conspire with creation, dare destiny to make its marks
Being a willing witness to history in the making; my history,
my aching.  I have traveled a road of madness
in the making, if not for this pulse of pure passion
pulsing somewhere in between skin and bone
belief that I have something left to pen.

Tags: Poems //