Tuesday, May 3, 2011

An unfinished poem...

Iridescent dreams, technicolor on a blue black stage...
Soaring heights, endless depths and miles of nothingness,
a billion beautiful images, flash past, excite and engage,
Morphined away from what's real, the mess....

Wake up to what you face, a struggle and a bag of lies,
a daily sickening rigmarole, a hypocrite's paradise,
A mind numbing, breath choking closet of ice;
Curse the day fate rolled that decisive dice.


Written on sunday, may 10, 2009.

5 comments:

  1. Love the last line. Is it about an unfinished poem or it is an unfinished poem?

    ReplyDelete
  2. It is an unfinished poem.. I meant to add a couple of more stanzas and never did. :P

    ReplyDelete
  3. it is never too late to finish your poem.
    lovely title.

    ReplyDelete
  4. If you do add more I would love to read it. This poem is rich with imagery and wonderful lines. So many seem to favor a world of illusion and lies choosing to keep their eyes closed

    ReplyDelete