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the wells of denial
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whole lotta other stuff Sometimes my dreams hover over water
like old deceptions pouring
from the wells of denial
trapped in a decadent dimension,
here illusion swept away imagination
in a mist of mysterious veil
with gray, blue overtones
eternally out of focus
in darkness, edges blur
the winds of estrangement
aching for syllables
without mercy send the message
hidden in a sentence
dripping off lips
from ruby tongue
encoded echo of quiet exploitation
like amnesia desires memories
over and over it is impossibly inaccessible
hIY 'Ello...
...But what is real? Words are ...Always...
Regards,
David...
Awareness ...
in search of its souls
and waters part
to form an island
for the lonely heart
Myra
thanks
it is all i can do to keep on keeping on
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot
I see much of my self
In this piece you write so beautifully hauntingly, inspiringly one day I wish to spend quite a time devoted to one special poem. Maybe it just might reach the level of this one, till then scribble jots and iotas is all I can do, till time frees me up to wash my emotions in cyber inks and confessions. Gorgeous piece! Highest praise.
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."