Within the imagination I am content to live This is my stay I see how plenty, how ever-expanding it is The ‘All’ a rich array Of ever-rotating colors with which to paint And never fade away
This is my stay my glorious garden, my bridge My gateway Into possibilities scarcely heard Fair whispers and inclinations Where new music can be made With purple compliments Providing shade Beneath which, Rich ideas have no graves Only wellsprings and matinees Inking inspiration It is here I eat, sleep And pray
Yes, this is my stay Where time knows no days And worries have no prey Where upon Parsons picnic blankets Are served golden words Which only ever convey A never ending display Of heavenly ballets And opportunities to say Anything you wish Poetry, Book, or Play For within the imagination Inspiration Never disobeys Yes, This Is My Stay….
Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the
The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half
The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain