Let’s just pretend you can take a trusted from on a road trip down by the sea as a beacon of light to a hurting friend in need we have created a magic circle drowned in the rain stop for lobsters maybe some baked crab we shall grab through the pier we can see the dare in the eye of the flight of the Albatross yet as the weather gets bad we are left drowned in the rain
got to get back in the car amidst the near window pane she blazed, she kindled out of the night like a white star We all boil at different degrees one can equate in hidden apathy Silently time passes The only life I have submits to its power some die looking for a hand do hold On the other side of the resistance is the flow the sounds of the nearby surf coming into the tide my soul permeates the inner feeling of solace
the earth has music for those who listen all the while I was a sinking vessel, No lifeboat No S.O.S Salted wounds to work until skin becomes bone white for I have seen the truth and it doesn’t make sense golden nuggets of thought in viral personifications And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness my very soul permeates a vision for being out in the changing of the season then for some matter my friend just left me without any reason
Mario William Vitale is a poet with over 1,000 toward his platform. Vitale was born October 23rd, 1970 in Bristol, Ct. Currently living in Wolcott, Ct where he helps as a care taker for his elderly handicapped mother Ann. Vitale is featured as a writer on Poetrysoup, Writerscafe & Allpoetry. Has a fan base on facebook with over 650 followers. He started writing poems in 1989 after the break up of his first girlfriend as a way to cope with life.
Sitting between the knees, I am being bathed by intense anxiety and fear of harsh light. A canopy of doubts confronts the dignity versus anarchy for a watchman who will not dare open- the vault of truth. A fatal ire
What do you think a redemption of a clone will work in the galaxy of stars? The hope was drying and violence refuses to decline in the valley of flowers. Orphaned moon climbs up the hill to preside over the
You said it was a sin to trade for the hunger. I was looking into your eyes, something was amiss, tears had become stones. How long your breast was carrying this despair? You said it was a crime to hold
Standing at the side of the street, I witness the changes through subsequent visits. A glass tower, built some days back, stands tall, Gobbling away space, around the nearby corner shop, that avoids fall. The corner shop was built few