Wakeful Solace

I am awake

late, abandon, havoc

in my head

won’t stop reminding me

how often I remain

far ahead

of my dreams, desires, demands.

If I knew what they were

I might then begin

to overcome that pressing need

to avoid, stray afar, give room

to that uncanny ability

to lay inside a nightmare.

If my eyes remain open

I will see everything

shut lids prevent reality

from holding court

with my sanity.

Playing with words

stretches the moment

further than a simple phrase

quite probably paragraphed ideals.

What ideals?

this is just insomnia you dolt.

That’s it,

the beat down

let the beat go on,

the beat down,

let the cycle continue

recreating the wheel

every day, every hour, minute, secular

in its divisive nature.

Ah, the woods, indeed

a place to crawl into the unknown

just across the street.

Difficult to take the elevator

to the top

of a majestic oak.

Yet when awake,

when corralled within

a mania

of procrastinate confusion,

aren’t we all seeking?

Nonsensical emotions

inside a moon’s lunacy

allows our disposition

to feel that loss

experience that remorse

wonder why we will wind

our lives around a mind-driven

moment of fear within real.


When inside the moment

All these things don’t matter


A pale moon in august

Droplets clinging

A red barn

City murals that speak

Single lane bridges that create pause

The kind where a set of headlights …

… and yet, natural earth

Remains the same

Vibrant in fragrance



Purpose seems in the moment

To reflect beauty

Simple ceremony

Without notion

Only visual impact

Seems miles of intertwined


Recalls that seed of discovery

Asking for approval



Or possibly some type of escape

Seems we all have these human tendencies

To wallow in our own shame

To respond to that which tears




Becomes a twisted universe

Of sad commentary

Or does it really turn out that way

At least this time it seems possible.