When Sleep Slides By

The mind,

when restful seems

to want nothing more than a simple

gesture of reality.

Yet when faced,

like looking in their eyes,

his eyes,

my I’s

when that moment occurs,

there seems little chance in knowing

how to apprehend the moment of sleep.


I stood against the pushing winds of time,

wondered how far it may bend me over,

backward and sideways,

not knowing which fall might be the easier one,

instead just letting the now breeze,

taunt my body, make me believe

this has all been a gesture,

some reasonable outcome is always,

just not that satisfying.


When eyes are just

aware enough of surrounding


we seem calm

instead while navigating through

the lens of our chosen design,

we then,

well know by now,

the world has harsh realities,

in case, in the event, we forget,

due to lack of sleep

of course.

On Staying Awake

You see, if we remain awake

we pretend away the future

fight it out

and the next day doesn’t come

there is a psychosis

that goes hand in hand

with avoidance

late nights,

not letting our minds wind down

rather I want to ride that roller-coaster

that constant wave of wonder

that allows my mind

to simply co-exist with nothing

nothing at all.

The fear of falling asleep

knowing we will awaken

and go through it again.

So perhaps if the body

stays alert, or at least somewhat comatose

without rest,

perhaps that day of reckoning

the next one where the anxiety lies

perhaps that morning of sunlight

that plays with our reality

time and time again,

perhaps it will be prolonged

but then when

where, how do we imagine rest

in its absolute form?

We are common

we are wakeful

our balance is assuring our peace

Late Nights

Silence the tube

that distraction

a genius contraption

has me wallowing well into the night

the dark world surrounds me

without daily activity.

When I step outside

I feel the chill of discretion

everyone is hiding

deep inside the forest of our mind

we are all challenged by the silence.

When in the break of day

we can surround ourselves

with horns and traffic, faces and eyes

at night, in the twilight

all we are left with is imagination

the surreal reality of what lies around us

the unknown that we sometimes favor

quite readily rather than the known.

Step into a forest, a real woods

trees and brush that will envelop

any novice in the night sky

hope for a moonlit horizon

to help one traveler realize their way

to find their compass in the sky.

At night, while I now sit in silence

having extinguished modern electronics

I sometimes wonder

what is the attraction to my insomnia

beyond the reality of my quiet anxiety.

Night Tease

There are those moments we wish away

when the evening light begins to fade

we often haven’t got the time to remain

yet our lives are on hold, we might just say

the day’s preoccupations are now at bay

and we will soon begin another day

but ah, there is that sleep thing in the way

when wanting to simply avoid the pay

that may, we say, just delay

our chance to rest tonight.

For it is that final tease, that unsettling ease

we have with putting off our sleep

in order to solve the riddles at hand …

yet, we never seem to find a solution

we only exhaust ourselves that other way.

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.