Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
the lone boatman Dec 2014
On a grey asphalt midwest road
lay a terrible place to weep and moan..
where white ***** rain trickles low
on poison ivies and blurry saxophones..

..with unified yellow lights that neither blink nor stare
unending love
the throbbing blue road
and metal statues whose souls lay bare.

The silent night gathered all
even my brown pain
and the terrible fall
what remained was none-so-less
threshed and withered like those leaves of green..
..empty thoughts, silent stills,
and wanderlings, with dreamy quills.

Broken i lay, with those captured skies..
flashes of lightning
empty gazes and embittered souls
painful verses of a poets play
are those terrible blue dreams, they say.
the lone boatman Dec 2014
A spaceless canvas of a beautiful dream
Spaces to see and spaces to dream
Myriad and countless in thousands they seem;
Distanced thoughts of an uncertain kind..
The swift strokes of a finer self
A breast of pain and the womb of death..
The Rampant search of a timeless man,
The Mystique brilliance of a madder dream..
Clawing to lose a searchless path
The Maya of me and the Maya of death
Spaces and spaces myriad they seem

To stand alone and To view apart
An un-poisoned brightness of a fewer whole
froth-less waves of a mid-life's depth
kindled flames, a rocking boat
Spaces and spaces to me they seem
(needs some editing..)
the lone boatman Dec 2014
Herein lies the cycle of this existence. Replete with everyday banalities - placid and meaningless - the menials of survival give away almost suddenly, and I find myself plunged into the depths of an unperturbed silence... where a voice within resounds the Om. A rage drives me to divest all falsifications.. those sensuous pleasures and miserable burdens, insecurities and frustrations.. and all that exists/acts in a true sense of transience. I feel calm again - cleansed and breathless on the shores of this Reality. But alas!, the Silence fades.. slowly and steadily the noises of the world begin to seep in, like the first rays of sunshine after a long wintrous slumber.
Crests and troughs, this life of mine. A reckless indifference grips my heart; I exist, unbeknown of whether I am a benign Observer or the perverse Experiment, or evenly both.
the lone boatman Nov 2013
some times I pray to the Winds, to blow away my pains and lies
along with the myriad clouds from my turbid skies
and carry me like mist from the light blue seas
to spirits that mingle in an unknown world
where the sky is the centre of a yellow marigold
take me to spaces that dissolve in a dream unknown
take me there Oh, Winds, i plead and moan

— The End —