#escapes
The evening stars were gone, replaced
by a spreading, ominous purple bruise of cloud.
When the wind rose, in sudden violent
crisscrossing gusts, everything went into motion.
White cabanas shook, like staked swans
flapping to fly, lavender bushes thrashed
their thorny arms as if in panic, umbrella pines
creaked and writhed like tethered balloons.
Lightning lit the winding, stony stairs, like ornamental
neon lights, as we’d run up the path from the beach.
Shockwaves of thunder accompanied the flashes
- there was no lag - the storm was there and upon us.
We were laughing and screaming, like children
chased through a dark Halloween funhouse.
The first, fat drops of rain popped behind us,
like a giant’s, arrhythmic, snapping fingers.
As we reached the open, French, louvered doors,
that led from our suite down to the shoreline,
we body-slammed them against the tempest.
And braced them fully closed with our backs, as if to vilify the
natural courses of wind and rain with an animal will to break in.
The lashing monsoon heralded our urgent, stormy union.
We were like the storm - insistent, wild and untamed.
All was revealed in that flashing, tempestuous darkness
as need, euphoria and lightning lit the naked night
.
.
A song for this:
Walk Between Raindrops by Donald Fagen
Hurricane Waters by Citizen Cope
Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 9:58 AM UTC
oscillating back and forth
head tilting from leeward and windward
an abstract puzzling my imperial gaze
a Van Gogh in waiting
perchance a reflection illuminated
in broad mesmerizing strokes
some tantalizing insightfulness
else a superficial escapade
do the color menageries
stray my mindfulness or hold attention
each vivid hue enlightenment
to soothe & provide enrichment
is my inspiration desperation
to find meaning in the simpleton
gravitating and debating
between beauty and gargoyles
does incredulous creativity scare me
or woo me into submissiveness
the artist plying servitude
into mine cavernous cavities
Alan Scales’ exhibit of
Turquoise Abstract Landscape II
provides fodder for my mind
to exponentially explode
Andreas Simic©
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 10:58 PM UTC
your green eyes were as the mint
which gives good smell
and satisfy inner soul
let your sad out
throw it with your happy
and told yourself with confident
if the morning comes
the dark sure escapes
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
_As the twilight contracts
And outstretching sleep escapes me,
The darkness offers me its small hand to hold,
Sighing gratefully for the flame I place in the window
To pass the night through._
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 1:49 AM UTC
The thoughts in my mind continually race;
I need something to slow down this awful pace;
I need to hear the crashing of the waves;
maybe a peaceful mountaintop where you just sit and gaze;
Just something to give my mind some space;
A way to empty my mind, like a runner does his legs;
The kind of quiet where if you pause it gives you grace;
for me this peace was never a specific place;
it could be staring at the sky, burning in the sun's rays;
it could be a memory that lasted a second but to me it was days;
something to make me feel small, like I've vanished from my body without a trace;
My mind can float safely here as writing is My escape.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
Echo
In an empty room
No sun is there but you
Smile
At a day of gloom
No cloud escapes the moon
Wither
At a daily pass
No dream was meant to last
Wild
As the dreams may be
No one will last for me
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
The familiar whirlwind of emotion rises up again,
a never-ending cycle of heavy, dark clothes,
a few light delicates throw in, barely visible
and fading
fast.
This weekly ritual, the pauses, the tone,
memorized down to the digit.
I grow weary, carrying out the motions and
Dreaming of the end, hanging it all out to dry
to be embraced by the ever-welcoming sun and its
loving, warm rays.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
A bed of
a lad in
A lad in a bed of creased sheets catching crumpling dreams as the night falls apart,
I'd better start something or better to be snoozing?
Okay
It's
Friday
Friday it's okay and two sachets of sugar with one spoon of instant,
it smells hot and tastes sweet
My eye's full of glue and my head's a marshmallow, the day ahead looks so deep and my breathing is shallow,
Nobody says,
poor fellow.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
Craving space.
Not the distance but the place
Where galaxies exist
And stars collide
Higher than the sky
From a **** of my pipe
I Fly
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
****
I hate knowing,
KNOWING
ways to make it all better
and being simultaneously
unable to take advantage
of those socially unacceptable
escapes of mine.
I have to just be here,
plaster on
my societal face
and it's all so ******* fake.
So fake.
All I want to do is give in
to the ever-taunting whims
that are begging,
pleading for release.
It's a dangerous game,
one I know I can't afford to lose
but ****
is it fun while I'm playing
with my deadly vices.
****
how hard it is
to say no sometimes.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC