PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The tastiest, strangest, often secret memories are made at night;

there's something about the air..

and the wisdom in the starlight

watching every midnight escapade

awakens a weary brow line 

and generates second takes

I eagerly listen

to root purpose

to exchange kindness for your time

to defeat physical silence

and mental chaos

Chaos we can often choose to avoid

if we're living conventionally

but still

alluring as Pandora's box in full glory

inviting us under one moon

tempting the morals we've acquired over time

discovering what the sun cannot show

like magic ink written with invisible pen

One day I hope to feel free

and allow a dark peace to sink to the marrow

bleaching away the stains of yesterday

Where a vast tranquility can echo through these

hollow eardrums and sticky feet

to cleanse my doubts within some truthy, believable waters

Until then

I hope somebody finds me in this twilight

before my lights don't shine the same

because like a aged jalopy

my identity seeps out like oil

through rusted seams

into the dull sea

a cesspool of commonality

without head above water

without air

under soil