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.


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

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

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

  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