The Gentle Fog Of Last Night’s Revelry

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on Pexels.com

The gentle fog of last night’s revelry
Walking the streets before the sun
Overcorrecting the crooked events
Getting myself right before the day’s begun

Dreamscapes fading in these early hours
Scars to tell tales of an alternate narrative
Truth impedes the recital of our union
Clinging to our bodies not always so imperative

Setting the scene amidst several libations
Resulting in sloppy notes from the underground
These aren’t mundane epitaphs from stone
Rather just trinkets for creation to remain unbound

Waking Early Before The Morning



Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true

I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird

Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock

We Are Here To Be Free

We are here to be free
Rise; for it is time to wake
Walk tall among your fellow man
Fill your soul with love for its own sake

Do not pluck flowers any longer
For it merely condemns them to die
Uplift all creation; we’re here as one
Carry hope with you in the morning sky