The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.

You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.

My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.

Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.



www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
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end of the line my friend
end of the line
well
it was only a matter of time
time
time
time
time
time                         A train conductor
time                                               sounds the
time                                                   horn crossing
time                                                  the tracks.
time
time
time
time
time           Never to go back.
time
time
time
time
time
time
time

Do not expect a linear path
Nor a strictly circular one
Though you meander one foot to the next
In cyclical, somewhat predictable rhythms.
Do not expect clouds to behave,
Mountains to hold,
Or branches to grow.
Do not expect bridges to stand the test
of time that even trees cannot.
Do not expect your golden shot today
to hold your interest next go round the wheel.
Do not expect a clear and simple reward.
Rather, take what you can,
Whenever you can,
Drink it in,
Make it a part of you
For the next go round.

the
gravity
of the
Earth
          is
              pulling
        me
closer
            to you
            now
you are
              the
                    ground
on which
I feel
           I am human.

I'm enslaved to a screen.
I can't remember wether I am a human being or not.
I've spent my days in solitude spreading my attitude through cyber space.
We all have a pretty face on the line.

Bring me back to reality where faces are larger than thumbs.
You're my number one avatar, lift me up, keep my eyes from staring at this world I never anticipated.
Keep me safe from all the hatred no one takes credit for and what's more I'll shield your eyes from the machine.

Our time is on the line, our time, is, on, the, line.

What is this line that separates us?

Why this lone tape that cordons our spaces?

Who assigned the thread that parts land and sky; earth and the heavens?

How is it that a boundary could be invisible yet bind so sure?

Which of us was given the right to reinforce... to validate this demarcation?

So what is this line that separates us?



It's reality.

.