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‘A Non-existent Poem’

I…

I am not

Real.

What I see,

What I feel,

What I think

Does not exist.

Illusion

Clouds our minds,

Clouds our eyes,

Clouds our hearts.

Each of us

Has a distinct vision

Of what there is,

It’s never the same.

It does not exist.

We are

Creating our own stories,

Creating our own worlds,

Creating ourselves.

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‘Inspiration vs. Reality’

The drunk writer, The inspired writer - (OO365...
The thought is fleeting

The mind is bigger than corpse

The passion is painful

The dive is scary

 

Yet knowledge is eye-opening

And talent requires feeding

Silence is glorious

And company can be distracting

 

Reality is unreal

It is formed by our minds

The time passes still

As we keep on loading our clocks

 

Inspiration hurts

You can only write

Your vision is blurred

There’s no peace of mind

 

The soul flees through the pen

Into the page it flies

Whether it’s midnight or day

Your choices are sliced

‘Kiss of Death’

If you kiss her

El bes de la mort - The kiss of death - El bes...

Don’t be surprised

By the approaching darkness of the skies

Something evil is looming

The sweetness of those lips so consuming

A taste of sour cherry

The temptation you can’t resist

But beware

And don’t say you haven’t been warned

When you give death a kiss

‘The Vision’

Burning sun

Falling down the stairs

Slowly, gradually

 

Rivers of blood

Red and black

Flowing right with it

 

The vision changes

I’m in the sand

Blue sand

 

Out of blue sand

There come manlike creatures

Surrounding me, disintegrating me

 

Green grass

Is falling

From the orange sky

 

Sky in flames

Hanging chains

Welcoming me

 

Rivers, shivers,

Hues, images

Now find the meaning

 

‘In the chaos of one’s mind’

The Human Mind

In the town of silence

In the night of brightness

Dreams don’t come

.

In the sea of nothingness

In the pool of wisdom

Diving yet – reluctantly

.

In the cup of reveries

In the song of madness

Looking for one leaf

.

In the birth of memories

In the jungle of adventures

Breathing in the sea

.

In the closure of my eyes

In exposure of my thoughts

I’ve found what I will be

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I’d like to thank a lot for the following award in the Thursday Poets Rally:

For this week I nominate deadpoet88.

‘Gentle healer’

It was a rainy autumn afternoon. Jack was blankly staring out of the window. He was depressed. His life had recently seemed to suck in every possible aspect. He had been thrown out of the school, all his friends had left him and on top of that he had been grounded.

His parents were about to go out. ‘Go to sleep early and don’t let any strangers in.’, his mom instructed him. As pleased as a punch, he lied down in his bed.

Jack completely lost the sense of timing. He could have been lying there for hours when suddenly out of the corner of his eye he noticed a weird golden glow. He quickly turned his head to see a shining, delicate hand reaching for him. Stunned, he fell back. ‘For light doth seize my brain… With frantic pain…’, the words came to his mind out of nowhere, or maybe it was the creature, whose hand he was now watching? Shivering from head to toe he tried to catch a glimpse of what was behind the hand. However, he realised, it was there alone – no arm, no body, nothing. It was just hanging in the air, surrounded by microscopic golden pieces. Before he could notice any movement, they came buzzing around his head.

It was still profoundly dark. Jack felt deeply elated. He couldn’t remember anything from his whole life except for the strange phenomenon, which appeared in his room. All he wanted to do now was to share this wonderful story with the world, but he somehow knew he couldn’t… He knew he could never tell anyone because they would never believe him.

*'For light doth seize my brain... With frantic pain...' - a fragment from 
William Blake's 'Mad Song'

‘Reality in Abstraction/The Art and the World’

New city

The rock on the wall

The clock on the road

Who bites into a roll

Fights in the war

The heart is the core

Of our eternal lore

Guts may be spoiled

Clouds on the board

Drawn to explore

The art to the core

What’s gone

Will be gone

What’s wrong

Will be questioned

The world writes its words

Just how it wants

Gives new meanings to words

Borders to be withdrawn

Promises to be short

Siblings to be shot

What’s more to be born

Among artists’ dying lot?

Read the rest of this entry

‘Abstraction’

A cosmic abstraction

The voice screamed

The sunshine broke

The clouds fell

The Earth shook

 

The wind smelled sweetly

The tricks were nifty

The mind followed itself

It got lost on one shelf

 

The fingers cut

The eyes rolled

The colours glowed

The heart noticed the night

 

We fell from the depth

Onto the highest point

Where Ted’s scream vomited itself

And quoth Poe’s raven, “Nevermore”

 

Blinded by the light

We soaked up the darkness

Eternity passed away

But the abstraction lasted