Two Worlds Apart

As rare magenta skies complete the running river, The aqua water shimmers storing golden rays of sun, A tree sways in the breeze as luscious grasses quiver, So picturesque the beauty, emotions flow undone. But beware the vicious beast stealthily skulkingdarkest shadows, A dragon bares its teeth, eyes burn malice in its grin, The serpent slowly slithers through the stillness of the meadows, It glares at you like Satan come to punish you for sin. I lose myself in momentary trance studying the China Dragon Buffet’s decorated interior when my concentration is shattered like a vase thrown at a wall in a storm of human anger. Somewhere in the background the choppy cadence of a high pitch voice makes an offering to which I blindly comply by nudging forth my cup. I watch the tar-like liquid oozing out to fill my expectations that somewhere at the bottom of each subsequent dosage lies the cure to a skull-shattering hangover which screams like a lunatic challenging my sanity. My bloodshot eyes molest a plateful of sushi covering some star-sealed fate as hands brandish chopsticks like an assassin’s dagger. I know coffee can’t cure hangovers. I know buffet sushi is awful. But I hope, I hope that just this once it might be different. And sitting there amidst the absurdity of shitty sushi, within the caffeine-laden chaos, watching the juggernaut of a precarious existence breaking through every decorated wall Everything fails to make sense, Everything except last night When our eyes tenderly caressed one another… Your eyes like stars my wondering heart did guide, Those stars’ sweet shine gave solace to my soul, I long as burning feelings flame inside, To take your hand in mine, I’d give my all. To gently kiss the creases of your face Would lift me to a state truly sublime, If fortune grants – your home be my embrace, Where we can flee from death and wrath of time. And in that moment you were everything, and in the next she was nothing - just another girl in another bar. Through a thick haze of booze-laden air, through a fog of cloudy thoughts, through a cacophony of loud music and anguish-masking laughter our eyes swerved and crashed into each other. And then she was gone. But I know I shall see her again, dressed in different shapes and sizes, eyes and faces, and every time my mind’s artist will paint from scratch a brilliant masterpiece that will never see the light of day but instead die covered in dim dust. I pay my bill and stagger silently into the hands of the wailing wind slapping my face and the sun’s sabers slashing my eyes, to continue this mortal maze, Just another wondering vagrant, lost between these worlds of poetry and reality.

gene16180

My muse can be unseemly and nomadic although she fancies meter and good rhyme, her diligence and output are sporadic, and some may say she’s moving past her prime. At times she’s off consorting with the sages reflecting on existence, as it were, At...

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