The Poet

Mortal elation

Lust of loins

Anguish of mind

The poet’s soul

Rips through

The body

A bloody pen

Fashioning a symphony

Of impassioned prose

The poet

A composer of

Profound inspiration

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Twister

In the dark

Thoughts are spirals

Of chaos

Her personal twister

Traps her mind

Pirouetting through the air

Where will it land

Anywhere but OZ

For this dreaming girl

There is no magic

Flying monkeys

And witches

Would be a pleasure ride

She will not land

In the Emerald Isle

No, this Dorothy

Will not land at all

The twister has found

Its prize

To keep

Where…

Where do you go when

Your mind is racing

Your thoughts are

Taking you to unfamiliar places.

Do you travel to

Distant  places where

Reality doesn’t exist

Time and space are a myth

 

Or does your heart

Pulse with love,

And the once quiet yearning

Finally breaks loose

 

Does the anger

The sad regret

Seep from your pores

Allowing you to mourn

 

Where do you go

When you need

To be free…

Finding a Voice

There are so many of them.

Not schizophrenic,

Internal diversity.

Full of opinions,

Full of shit perhaps.

Sifting through

The baggage

The positive and negative

Words spoken

True or false

Compiling self,

Deleting self loathing

Building character

Finding a Voice

Speaking out loud…

BW©️