Free cello flotsam
I followed a trail
To rock with scurvy emotions inside of me.
Don’t know what to expect.
All the rage, ignorance, silence
bleaches the promise of a future sapling tree.
Astrology says we have a Destiny, and there’s apart
Who revels in the nostalgic quest within me.
Why do I shirk off those who encourage my rays to reflect outwards?
Why do I seek out on my impulses, toxins to detract from my light?
Keep me from growing into a burst of melody I can shout out to the cowards.
Confidence issues get the best of me
it’s just all about
It isn’t-it’s also about my husband , my Bella bee.
When I enunciated my vows last June-what a chirrupy day.
I didn’t have a clue what commitment to another meant
That I would be required to stop mid-flight and stay.
Stagnant breathe, I cry out for security
Inside it’s all I’ve needed to explode into full maturity.
I write aplenty about letting go
The rage, the ability to let it stop over analysing my creative flow.
Seeking out what exactly?
Roses thrown at my feet every hour?
In case I forget in my self and believe I am merely dour.
I crave a prism of connection and escapism.
All I want is to answer my own question.
What is my purpose?
The birds murmur in their usual stanza of cursive.
Have I ever learnt the language of civility?
Emotions have tripped me over
Surprised to appraise the sky admiringly
I’m chasing after the elusive high
Frequent in multiple forms.
Sometimes a shape in a human form of fungi 😉
sigh, me and my warped sense of humour
Desperately trying to prover I need a holiday under my current demeanour.
the rage inside is never quelled .
I write and I write yet the tears continue to overspill.
Reticent to see what is standing in front of me
I look up
and despite the majestic scenery,
I feel the weight of my guilt-dissecting me into bits to use as flotsam at sea.
One small town to the next
Happiness is a state of mind
Not some hidden idealist.
A paradox of uncertainty
Believe in me-
The true person outside of my physicality.
I’m not stating I’m beautiful or full of grace.
I do believe I am unique .
This is more than a hope or a whim.
I don’t see absolute distaste when I glance at my face.
The simple moments, the words , the memories that won’t hold on.
I have a purpose-some path to walk without feeling triste
Emotional depths descend into an abyss — it ranks.
I adore the ocean , I hate that I need technology to breathe in, and gasp.
I’m not a shipwreck lying on the floor who gave up and sank.
I’ve learnt how to swim and fight,
For what its worth.
What do I want with this life-streaked , woven into nature’s tapestry?
Here, little bird, come closer unlock the coded language that will show this mystery is more than a pyscho spieling diatribe of empty soliloquised solecisms
Heart stammers .
Side by side a pack of soulless zombies.
Posted on 2017-05-24, in EXPERIMENTAL WRITING and tagged EXPERIMENTAL WRITING, Family matters, Love, POETRY-FREESTYLE/IN YER FACE/EXPERIMENTAL, Reflection, Relationships, self-belief, stream of consciousness poetry, THIS IS LIFE. Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.