The Voices Come Calling

The voices come calling Like shattered visitors in the night Darkness expunged within thought Auditioning words; trying to get it right Vapid orations coming from the podium Stacks of the wrong books & loose leaf notes The dumbing down makes a tedious existence But ideas are the traditional spark of an antidote

It’s A Sparse Paradise These Days

It’s a sparse paradise these days Feeling another season coming on Not supposed to feel like this At least that’s the way we’ve been drawn She’s still the poor pretty rich girl Never could get off the same page Repeated struggles to survive Tripping on my lines; a vapid stage Reality is an emotion detached

I’m Tired Of Being So Dry

I’m tired of being so dry In need of an outlet to release my brain Creativity gone; leaving me stagnant Building into a wreck of anxiety & pain My thoughts stunted by vapid feelings Finding myself too tense, filled with stress Needing to drink from restorative waters Like those I found under her dress