I'm dizzy with voices, heavy in brain.
Vibrating to feel inner great pain.
Dishonorment carries conflict so strong.
Friendship now ends as I move forlorn.

Moving to rehash the symptoms of grief.
I wish the moment would give some relief.
Weary and tired I am so alone
Wish as a starseed that I can go home

.
Bare feet pound along the pavement
yet there is not feeling.
The connection with the tangible solid
has with it no true healing.

The detached mind floats up high
a million miles away.
Terra firma are just empty words,
stout rock becoming clay.

As retraction of the emotions sits
apart from what is real.
A no-man's land of security shrieks
'this is what I feel'.

Withdrawal has its positive notes,
protection from the pain.
Keeping close the hearts secret safe,
never to be killed again.

Autopilots most clever disguises hide
that which should be faced.
But burying reality in cold defiance
renders it all but erased.

© Pagan Paul (29/08/17)

Forgive them today,
Or resent them everyday.
A tough choice, indeed.
One gives peace; the other, pain.
You're free to choose either way.

on one day
the blackbird
got chased from the
Camellia tree
outside my window's ledge
by a Bluejay
then lo and behold a
Red-crested woodpecker appeared
on a limb near and they both whistled
then
a mockingbird joined in and
a hummingbird fluttered
where my eyes kept darting
from one to the next to another
and the blackbird
sat on a Pecan in the yard
muttering
it sounded heaven to the clouds which parted
and a dove landed on my shoulder
cooed
as the sun came shining brightly in that window
the tree filled up
sounded like an orchestra
a group of violins
and a sudden drop of rain fell
unto my shoulder then
and the clouds burst forth
and the flowers begged
for more
I didn't need a rainbow
had all I needed
then
and I opened every window I could find
everywhere
soft trills sounded
peace and wings
on-air and violins
on ears and
choruses
sung like I had made it for once
to nirvana
where the tears
cleanse

Orange, yellow, brown
Covering the dull gravel ground
Parched so bad
Lifeless
Yet beautiful
Painting the canvas of dreariness
The world
They have fallen
Yet strong enough
To make someone's heart
Scream with joyness
Cheer up an empty soul.
They'll crunch weakly
When black boots step on them;
The'll rustle along with the breeze
When the heartless wind pick up;
But why...
Did they fall?
Did they give up?
"They're dead leaves child"
Said her mom
Bending closer to her ear
A faint smile painted
The latter's parted lips
Agaped due to the beauty
Of the painted canvas
Right beneath her...
"Mom...I love them"
She mumbled
Letting her small feet step away
From the heavenly canvas of
Dead leaves....