#1
To be in a place of belonging
with stories in head of
alternate universes and
scattered stars and
snowdrift valleys and
cocoa fields of eccentricity
To feel stuck in a rut
when the stories around are
lifegiving forces and
shattered dreams and
starry eyes and
taxi cab crashes of memory
To feel lost in an open air void
out of the stories heard of
breathless adventures and
primal screams and
velveteen scars and
overworked schedules of fantasy
To feel trapped in a realm of liberty
with nothing but stories to write of
swashbuckling lives and
distancing wormholes and
lamenting planets and
omnipotent goddesses of yesteryear
Is like running in place with a dog at your heels
calling for help when there's no dial tone
praying for sun in a windowless room
telling a secret to a deaf and dumb priest
buying a gun to protect against fear
loving a man who loves only himself
no escaping acceptance today.
#2
The wordsmith carves languages
from faraway forges
delving into categories of -ations and -isms
so long forgotten had all others let them
of course there's no meaning
in letters we're stringing
acrimonious poses of grand eloquations
magnanimous spoutings for mind segregation
the way of the future
is telepathy dreaming
pass away to a -verse with no communication
bending waves in personal space
the lone intervention
no "man", no "woman",
only feeling; emotion
can't hide if it's quiet
or in the death knell of the streets
can't keep hidden if there's nothing
no separation of mind
between waking, dreaming, and speech
#3
Identity seeking
when there's no such thing
in a world keeps on turning without you
out of touch
out of class
out of sight
out of mind
out of style
for a while?
Stop, look, and listen
to what has been missing
from the world that was built up around you
running free
running blind
running scared
running circles
running home
but home's alone
don't you see?
