Ramblings of a Disorientated Mind

Listen to the whisperers of truth.
Can you hear the voices? Can you see them?
Truth corrodes the soul, Lies protect the heart….
Look into your mind… Can you see the pain?

Change your consciousness to suit your mate,
do what you want as long as its what He wants.
He can’t help you… He can’t protect you
no matter what he says.

A world of broken promises, the reality of lies
Slipping, stumbling over the Edge.

You won’t ever come back

☮&♥

Yeah, I’m good at irony

The beautiful ambrosia
is slipping through my hands
so resplendent and intangible; it cannot be kept

My creative spirit lost
tied to the mundane; i cannot float above

Surround ones self with art
with light and laughter and music
through osmosis can I get it back?

But my muse had left, pulling the gift from me
in this cold hard world I scream for it back

Most precious of possessions
I have lost you!

And talent flows from me like golden blood.

☮&♥

Cold, blue, snow,
Shinning white ice,
Open fire, warm and nice.
Skating, waltzing, snowball fights,
Snuggled up in bed so tight.

☮&♥

Cherry blossoms and misty mountains
pink and green and grey.
They call to me.
Travelling over the sea and over the land,
through space and the ethereal plane.

In my minds eye
I can see the rain and blossom
falling
                   and
  gently
              drifting
   down
        towards
Damp Earth.

And the music box is still singing…..

☮&♥

I repeat again,
thou most elusive beast:
Why must thou torture me, myself and I in this most heinous fashion?
Causing my mind to run in the circles of thine labyrinth,
tripping over your delicate intricacies,
only to end up only whence I began,
ever searching for thou,
my most elusive beast.

☮&♥

I.
“Yay for the water colour chestnuts,
skipping off to war!”
Sang the walrus in deep soprano,
as sun beams draped their golden cloaks about his plaid shoulders.

II.
And do you see, how merrily
they give themselves away?
The rainbows laugh,
the brownies giggle
in their thongs of tarnished silver.

III.
So, I’m sitting at the bus stop,
waiting for a train to come,
and the old man siting next to me
comments, “Such a shame about the weather.”

IV.
And until this very day,
I’d never really noticed,
how the life that was once before you,
has turned to shades of grey.

☮&♥

Wheehe! Whayhay!
Coffee, coffee, coffee today.

Black or white,
Sugared or not,
Makes no difference,
to the caffeine junkie’s lot

All she cares about is getting her hit,
be it from a can or steaming mug.
With C₈H₁₀N₄O₂; artificial grit,
’tis easier to face demon or boss.

☮&♥

Down at the bottom of the garden,
Where the rhubarb used to grow,
There live three little fairies,
Whose names no one knows

No one that is, except for me,
For I visit them every day,

To hear of their little adventures,
To hear of their exciting day
Next door, they say, they found some dentures,
Or would I just like to play?

Yes, the fairies at the bottom of the garden,
Really are quite a friendly bunch,
But what of their names! I hear you cry,
Now that would be telling. Would you like some lunch?

For my Nana and my Grandma

☮&♥

Inspiration is something I’m lacking,
like a hunter fallen from off the track.
But is a muse on the muse such a great idea?
Or is this mini adventure with words annulling the previous though?
Poetical outpourings on the absence of the essence voids that essence from not being with the creator, is this not so?
By the very act of this simple vignette I have reattained that what was thought lost
and so, in conclusion, I should really shut the hell up

☮&♥