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Lou Romano Nov 2019
A poet searches
thru the light to find.
Where inspiration lives.
Where the words
are the visions of dreams
that flow
thru his soul
and take him with.
To where it is his heart does live
and his spirit guides his sight.
Flowing from within
directing his pen,
in endless streams of delight.

A blind man searches
thru the night to see.
His dreams his only vision
And the only light
he’s ever seen,
knowing only intuition.
If he were to paint a picture
what a wonder it would be.
From his spirit it’d
have to flow,
and be, guided by his dreams.
Abstract visions of places
that pass in lighted streams.
Wondrous visions of beauty
he’s never had sight to’ve  seen.
Lou Romano Nov 2019
When you try to go
to sleep at night and simply
cannot stop your brain

And your thoughts they can’t
be turned off and you just know
you’re going insane

When you lay your head
upon your pillow at night
and can’t find your dreams

And your world crumbles
on a daily-basis and
life’s not what it seems

When your thirst for life
has been so long forgotten
you no longer care

And wallowing in
pools of your own self pity
is your only fare

When you have known it
and can surely comprehend
a mans frustrations

Then you have found it
the misereality
congratulations
Lou Romano Nov 2019
Pain is strong
But I am stronger
It's been too long
But I'll last longer
Pain
Lou Romano Nov 2019
A journey, a trek,
a trip down a long and lonely road
that led me to butterfly kisses
in a reign of dementia,
settling silently upon my mind,

incognito.

My muse lost in the fall
somewhere between a bed of lilacs
in shades of purple and turquoise blue,
and the elaborations of a tormented soul
battling reflections of his past.

Nothing more than a silhouette of time rendered reality

This is what I have lapsed into,
where I have gone,
why you have not seen me.
Though I stood beside you,
This is where I hid, in this nothingness.

Not who I am, but where I have become.
Lou Romano Nov 2019
Where the hell is the door
I’ve got to get out of here
Oh no…no….it can’t be
there really is no way out
Everything is in the in,
I ran out of my house
But was still in the yard
I got out of my car
But was still in the lot
Going out of my mind
But still in my body
Perhaps when I die
They’ll bury me outside of the box
Yea that’s it……no wait,
that won’t work either
I’ll still be in the ground
The is no way out...
Lou Romano Nov 2019
Within the glow of her half breed heart
she found enough pieces of herself to go on.
While out in the real world time stood still,
waiting for her, yet never looking back

Winter would weep frozen tears before the thawing of spring,
Only then could she emerge from beneath its shimmering coat.

And though yet another season was within her sight
she paled in remorse over past desertions of faith.
If she’d only had the wisdom that is now awakened in her
as she embarked on her journey into that cold, cold night.

Her thoughts her only friend and yet still they pained
with the frostbitten air of her faith’s retaliatory wrath.

On into the night she crept silent amongst the spirits,
the only true guides left for her to follow without worry.
Her own tears now lay in frozen streaks across her face.
Frantically she tries to brush them away, but they cut her.

Bright red flowing life running down painting the snow,
covering the earth, she was leaving with her living memory.

Not much longer could she wait for the spirits to find her again,
to heal her wounds and carry her into a new tomorrow.
She falls to the ground curling herself up into a ball as the last
drops of her mortal life run into the snow. She dies.

The world was silent, nothing not even the wind spoke.
The ice melted, the rivers thawed and the trees lifted.

As spring ignited from out of the life she had left behind,
her beauty was reflected throughout every living thing.
She had given herself back to the earth for renewal,
her spirit now free to roam with the spirits and guide others.

Her wounds no longer capable of holding her back, she flew
out into the dawn of a new day on her new wings of light.
Lou Romano Nov 2019
Creativity is gathered
in the sails of our mind
where the universe
flows through us
and our thoughts collect

If we simply open our sails
the winds of creation
will take us where they may.

But our sails are fragile,
if we try too hard,
to force our thoughts
they will rip holes through the fabric
and the winds of creation
will pass right through,

and take us nowhere
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