Weird Poetry

I’m two people.

Some days,

I’m just a person in my life.

The colours are muted and unexceptional.

I almost don’t notice them at all.

A bird is a bird.

And my eyes just open and shut


Like everyone else’s.

And I somnambulate through my day

Just to reach its end.

I don’t dream on nights after days like those.

But other days,

I shift.

I become the other Me,

And my eyes open


The colours swirl about my vision and my heartsenses,

And invade and nip at me deliciously,

Like I am their consummate and eternal lover.

They turn the quiet to symphonic whispers and yelps

That usurp my every thought and emotion,

Completely tilting me sideways.

My dreams become my waking life,

And a bird is no longer


A bird.

She becomes a divine clarion

From the private heavens of my soul(s),

And all I can see is a light that blinds and gives sight


It draws water from my eyes

Along with tears infused with dark longings and stirrings for which there are no words or understandings,

And drags my knees back down to the earth

In holy reverence

Of the mysteries of the darkness

And the light.

Those are the days in which I disappear.

Those are the days in which I am more present than the colours dancing upon the skycast domes of my eyes.




4 thoughts on “2-4-1

      1. Those words just mean your judgement, my judgement, and our judgement is all dependent on how we look at things. Just as long as we look at things with our eyes open and not judge them for what we think they should be but what they are. P.S. Love your blog. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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