Irritation, aggravation -
systems falling all apart,
within chaotic swells of our emotion.
Yet still, we speak of ordered sanity
Even when we know so well the feel
of every great sensation
swelling like the ocean's tides,
speaking in a foreign language
from somewhere deep inside.
Listlessly, we drift through
of peakedly unanimated recitation;
believing we must never tell the world
of all the anger dwelling deep within.
Seeing red in lightning flashes;
seeking now to splash a color
back into these lives become so drab.
We think, we ought, we must
, we are
no more than what we will into belief.
And yet our souls seek base relief
within the darkness of our nights of sleep;
dreaming into realms we used to know
back in ages so long past
that short-termed memory
can see no more.
Yet still we feel, in growing
unstructured moments we have spent
adrift within the realm of future calling.
Where every vivid color dwells,
moving in great swells of mist,
awaiting a deliverance
into this time, this space, this realm
we call reality.
And listen! Can you hear the
of its deliverance . . . ?
Whispering yet one more theme
before the dreams are broken into bits
by an alarm that we ourselves have set.
Like sirens screaming, shockingly,
within a state we’ve come
to know as merely wide awake.
Here numbness takes over,
while under the cover of masks
(where we hide to just survive),
lie moods idealistically impeded,
longing just to speak of meaning
once valued in resplendent tones,
for emotion colors everything we are.
As this feeling of deep irritation
in these systems ever falling all apart,
rises to the fore of an expressive attitude
to speak of moods now unacceptable;
insisting on deliverance right now . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .