Tag: secrets
Another World of Pure Imagination
Hold your breath…
Make a wish…
Count to three…
So says Willy Wonka
……
In my dreams
All the things
I dream for you
They come true
If only in my
Imagination
If you cry
Sob or sigh
And form tears
In your eyes
It brings me down
And brings me round
From off my distant cloud
Floating high
On a rosy river
Beneath a rose filled sky
So
Come with me
You will see
There is really nothing there
That could
Harm you
It’s just a wonderful world
Here in make believe
A wonderful world to live in
If only you
Could open wide
And reach inside
I know you
You really want to
See a new world
Beginning
Take my hand
But don’t be afraid
To let go
No more fears
Lurking in the corners
Everything
Living here
Is alive
Right there
Inside you
When life is a zoo
Fling open the cage
Wander free
Join me
And you’ll see
Dear
Yes you’ll see
Clear
It’s just a wonderful world
Here in make believe
It’s such a wonderful world
To live in
If only you could
Reach inside
You would see that
And I know
You want to see
A wonderful world
Again
The Garden of Our Youth
Where have the flowers of spring gone?
Those were the days of our youth.
Spent in the hope of something better. Only to be wasted by those who did not understand their value.
Guilt or Sorrow, I do not know…
Dark thoughts hidden behind pleasant words and a polite smile
With a sidewards glance a trembling hand reaches out touching memories the mind fears which the heart holds dear…
and on the phone I find silence
Places Out of Time
I remember days that lasted weeks. Left alone to many nights at port, to many times on dusty roads.
Mirages appear and disappear like the voices in my brain. Landmarks becoming burned deep into my soul.
Out there somewhere I’m looking for something lost or maybe it’s just something I’ve never seen.
You never know what’s waiting there just beyond what you know.
Crazy ad it is, that’s exactly where I want to go…
Along the Garden Path
Another Wakeful Dream
I’ve been here before…
This same dust filled room.
I have sat there in the same worn, mildewed, moth eaten chair, and watched the silent currents blow the cobwebs into movement.
I have watched the micro world’s blown about as dust in the light of each passing day.
There every page of life is written, collected, and bound. The work of a legion of unseen hands.
Every letter, every mark upon the page, created by a host of beings.
Beings that etch their knowledge simultaneously into the condensed lines of unreadable script.
My tired eyes have long ago grown accustomed to the wording.
Upon a shelf of magnitude…
There sits the great library.
Each volume a collection of time. Each traced letter a forgotten second remembered, recorded, and shared…
And each night I close my eyes…
Each mid day nap I close my eyes…
Each careless blinking of the eye…
Another leaf, another chapter, another book is added.
They lay scattered, disheveled from there proper place…
For but a short time.
Until leathery, age worn hands, once more lifts them into their place.
I know. I have been here before.
I will be again.
The Torn Letter, From the Book of Pat
Another Wakeful Dream
I’ve been here before…
This same dust filled room.
I have sat there in the same worn, mildewed, moth eaten chair, and watched the silent currents blow the cobwebs into movement.
I have watched the micro world’s blown about as dust in the light of each passing day.
There every page of life is written, collected, and bound. The work of a legion of unseen hands.
Every letter, every mark upon the page, created by a host of beings.
Beings that etch their knowledge simultaneously into the condensed lines of unreadable script.
Linking infinite worlds and paths.
Information and energy never disappoint
Recorded beyond the boundaries of forever
Relics of bygone years
Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, all things are vanity
Death in a deathless place
Life in a place of despair
There grows the knowledge
Torn from the roots of trees
Grown fruitless in the withering breeze
And when you look for what it is you find
It’s then you loose your place
In the endless fantastic we craft
An Autumn Day
The heart grows weary as the cold nights lengthen
The wicked gather
Adorned in riches of jewels and gold
Where are the vigilant that tend the watchfires
Have they abandoned their duty to glean the crops
Why have the wise men ceased their understanding
Frequenting instead the alehouse and tavern
Alone the traveler wanders
Burdened by knowledge that the gates have all been barred
Highwaymen prowl like lions
The blind, arrogant, and foolish fall prey
And from the rooftops the innocent crying leap
But there are none to stop their fall
The Rain Upon the Windowsill
Quiet words echoing
Silent thoughts repeat
Shadows run through empty hallways
Whispering currents blowing dust
How loud the fluttering moths wings sound
When emotions become numb
False Promises Nouveau 