THE DEPTHS OF DESPAIR

 

 

Anguish is my sole friend.

Tentacles wrap me close

with its wiry arms of despair.

The day holds no easement for my pain.

The sun shines too bright from its tall pedestal.

The night brings forth the proud moon

that rides the sky with its chariot of horses.

Its glow lights the hearts of the forgotten.

Its reflection soothes the troubled soul.

One more minute before I join the others.

The ones who search for the white reflection

in the cold depths below.

PSYCHEDELIC DELIGHTS

Source:

 

 

A barren wasteland.

Nature has forgotten.

The sun ignores.

Green no more.

Ahead awaits the mansion.

Its residents not living.

Watching through the windows

All who dare to visit.

A maze of rooms

Offering psychedelic delights.

Of times gone by

And life forgotten.

THE DEAD GAME

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FORGOTTEN

Source: travel balloons
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Lost and forgotten.
Dripping in snow.
Frozen with ice.
Wheels shivering.
Handlebars sagging.
Until the spring.
Flowers blooming.
Roads clearing.
Water dripping off.
Wheels turning.
Its seat taken.
Out for a ride.

IMAGINATION

Imagination is alive.
It is a part of us.
An important part.
Never to be ignored.
Never to be forgotten.
A right of its own.
A need to be carried on.
Listen to it.
Nurture it.
Respond to it.
But never, ever ignore it.