Rest calls me autopilot disobeys – Mind heeds, but locked in battle with my insomnia; neither make way for my flickering consciousness and exhausted body. Sleep is an elusive luxury… Lately.
Rest calls me autopilot disobeys – Mind heeds, but locked in battle with my insomnia; neither make way for my flickering consciousness and exhausted body. Sleep is an elusive luxury… Lately.
Funny how the people you’re born unto; The people you’re born and raised with are more stressful than the almost-strangers you speak to in passing each day… Funny how some days secret parts of me occasionally wish those strangers were my family – At least most of them are always trying to get to know …
Can’t be my own person by your perspective standards I’m too weak, too naïve, too unoriginal to think for myself. It’s only when I disagree with you that I’m wrong, such contradiction – you disagree with who I am and feel justified in doing so… When will we learn that double standards do not equate …
You are what makes me happy… You are my chill during stormy weather, moon to my high tides – I’ll always be drawn to you. You are the antioxidant to the free radicals in my energy; Explorer of the untamed wilderness of my mind. You’re the comfort that calms the creature within my soul.
You are my coffee at sunrise and my ice cream on rainy days – You’re my evening wine; My anytime music.
I got a headache because I think too much, and my braids too tight, Sometimes I think I worry about not worrying too much – Stress about whether I’m stressed out or nah. My mind moves so much its muscles are a little sore.
Evening, Ma’am, Sir. Evening walks to nowhere in particular and everywhere I’m going. Evening coffee, evening meal… Evening matinees awaken the sky, as sun sets horizon alight with gold and orange; rose and wine and blue. Evening – shadows. Moon is rising the wanes of Gibbous in half… Evening, crickets – how melodic your trill. …
I fear I’ve messed this all up – This life thing, It doesn’t feel like I’m doing it quite right. I’m always just… Too every bit of the wrong things, too intense, too awkward; too passionate, too aggressive. Too full of words, too not enough. I don’t know how to fix it, make it better… is it only my own …
With just a simple thought, the firing of a synapse, the striking of nerves, the launching of cells, power emerges. The power to create – willed with only an unspoken command… rawness and rarity. The epitome of true talent; How beautiful the mind is that even subconsciousness affects reality. 18 September 2019
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Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
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