By Invitation Only.


The window blurts-
An old invite,
Before dawn yawns,
Its sun outside.

Dark, drag me more,
Into the night,
Its filled too much,
Of endless sight.

That wakes again;
In closen sighes,
That live in deep,
In listless eyes.

And sits like wisps,
To gather quiet,
And fill my mind,
With passions slight.

For dreams to rise,
And for moments fight;
And bear no more,
Nostalgia's spite.

And look at world,
As if it might,
Roll in sleep,
And take to flight;

Which tired eyes,
Do daily right,
In waking days,
To seldom write-

That how this play,
Of dark and light,
Some living call;
But i most despise.

The Metamorphosis

Like a voice backstage,
In a movie scene,
That merely says,
Dont be seen;
While the music plays,
A sombre theme,
And curtains tug,
At sundry scenes,
That hurl themselves,
At vicarious beings,
Who pay for touch,
From virtual beams,
For cost of flesh,
Is a living dream;
To see no more,
That most do deem,
To caccooned corners,
We take our gleam,
And feed our hopes,
That hungry seem,
To rip our limbs,
In tender dreams,
And winged fly,
To what have beens;
Before the shrieks,
Come waking scream,
And back to life,
As crawling beings...

Frozen Dreams

Frozen dreams-

Do slowly thaw,

As slip moments,

Now tender, raw

Whilst congeals;

That living flaw,

To be undone,

What we saw...

Icarus, Rise.

Below rainbows,

That coloured seem;

Lie monochromes,

That rattle dreams.

And ramble hopes,

To secret gleam,

And whisper most,

To lie unseen.

So icarus turned,

To the lonely eye,

Whose burning words,

Just whispered “Fly”.

No homely roof,

Those barren skies,

That laid back look,

At flailing sighs;

That swim listless,

For what had been,

Blue seamless,

Is but a sheen-

Fierce golden,

That looks so keen,

Like eternal flames,

That none do mean;

For falling, flying;

Are one it seems,

When moments merge,

In drowning beams.

That burst open,

At crowded seams,

To lay to rest,

Begotten dreams.