I walk,
A thick brush
Paints my way

I cross,
An inked bridge
My feet black

I stop,
The black brush
Paints a crossroad

I sit,
days pass by
As I ponder

I decide,
A blackened path
Walking on ink

I wait,
The brush draws
More diverging paths

I reach,
Holding the brush
Snapping in half

I look,
My body covered
In black ink

I walk,
My body blackened
My path white

All are dancing slowly
This masquerade
A gala
Yet
All is in great discord
Among the orchestra
One is out of tune
Yet
None seem to care
To hear the broken melody
See the chip in the stone

Cover it up
With a little paint
None shall tell
Besides the meek little pup
Soon it shall faint
One shall yell
While the rest
Ring, ring, ring the bell
Dancing in discord
To the broken melody

Pulling out a flask
‘Neath the rows
Folk chatter and ask,
“Isn’t something off?”
While the other throws,
“Neigh!” then one does quaff

Shine a light
Alone the floor
Hold one tight
For one shall sing no more
Grasp it
So one may not fall
That she would not permit
Not a’tall

Sing, sober dream
Whisper your whims
Through a beam
On a limb
The lullaby
Child doth cry
Sing, sober dream
Sing, sing,
For ‘tall must end
One day.

- Jay M
September 12th, 2019

Paint me a picture
Of long ago
When the moon stood still
And dreams came true.

A wisp of a breath, a flick of a brush,
The canvas begins to be filled with colour.
A hint of violet, a dab of vermillion,
It seems that she is painting a girlish parlour.

A red drips slowly down her wrist,
As she wipes away at her work.
The foggy glass seems to offer some relief,
Against the cold harsh winter.

The girl stands on her frost-bitten toes
And look upon the scene with wonder.
As the tantalizing warmth appear against her fingers
She can't help but ponder.

Why are some people in the parlour
But others look from the outside in?
For she can't help but question
What is deep within.

Drip
Drop
The golden sun
A burning coin
A flaming pendant
A sun of god
Painted bright
Bleeding into the sky
Sinking down
I watch it die.

The sun is a small paintbrush
every morning it rolls with colour
and paints at my home the first light
exposes it as new as ever!
Not by the Moon nor by the star
but by me my home my planet earth!