"awaste" poems
Conjure up prismatic realities
To pacify
The Unscratchable itch
Of want
With words doused in artifice
Fervour in the palm of hands
Brimming in fingertips
Lay awaste
The horizon gleams
With the sight of burgeoning despair
The halt of calm
Reason devouring the
The ephemeral mist of utopia
Razors edge has always cradled
And contained
The incorrigible dreamer
Saudade knocks on your door
Whispering September's forgotten promise
A spring that blooms
Palpable authenticity.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
Cyrstal glass and morning sun, the day has just begun,
life at the ready, awake the bones show the mirror the real you,
disaster aview the withered not born new, your day can be summed by your point of view,
opaque glass of distorted colours gives rise to known thoughts of different you's,
So step out the door and hit the sun, it brings the energy when your day has begun,
Oh the sun, it shines on you, makes you feel all new,
The chair creeks like a rusty gate as you sit to await your fate,
you check the email box for hint of cheer, instead dread is what you fear,
demand on demand and your day is awaste with wasted time,
where is the window? oh so far, step up from you box and get there fast,
out of the window the world awaits, the sun shines on without you as your day goes awaste
Oh the sun, it shines on you, makes you feel all new,
Give it up get there, you have given your share,
life awaits you, give up the ghost of the host that binds you,
oh the sun shines on
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC