"The thought of  the future we will never have was pollinating foul fuzzy particles in the air, slowly following the wake of all those tasseled dreams I had held onto for all those years but had to let go."

The most intimate revelations can often expose plagiaristic suppressions that we've most likely tried to already forget. Suggesting to anyone on the outside looking in, that there is a rancid cowardice secreting from the pores of all those who would deny the most basic of fundamental decencies to their fellow man.

All the while, boasting a loud tolerance that would be found on the very last Autumn-the very last colorful arrangements of watering oranges and smothered reds our world was ever going to be privileged to witness again.
The thundering drumming of my own beating heart gave my freshly dead and bland reaction a neon personality, with a few extra *******, lingering, successful gestures that reflected a sparkly prism of tracers.

Tracers that were birthed from the most brilliant of lasers, as I was radiating something that was blindingly gorgeous, something that was heightened with more sensitivity as it shadowed over the complexity of every kiss that I had ever been given in my life..

Spinning a silk and gold web around me that was almost as intricate as an alarm sounding earth quake.

This flaccidly tight response came at a price, leaving nothing but whispers and the wrong kind of impressions at the sight of  it's unwanted face..

The time of dignity and grace felt decades away as your tiny little temperaments began to attempt to soothe me into a very still silence.

"Wooing" me and "seducing" me with such a strong touch of romantic readiness, I knew it would never be matched or found again causing me to feel a stroke of sadness at the single sentiment.  

This dramatic departure killed any interest that might have supported the abortive sorrows and short winded elation’s of men, but instead the idea of a possibly new tasseled dream, sparked me into a shimmering prism bouncing glittering, glimmering, glowing rays off my skin, as I put the shine in the sun.

I’ll admit,
the reckless abandon by which I write
is my very own guilty pleasure.
Perhaps someday you’ll take the time
to pass by this haven that I’ve made,
away from prying eyes.
The fickle words that reach me
often leave this boy wanting for not
but to embrace the darkness with anticipation.
Maybe you’re reading this right now.
Or it’s just me again hoping that these words
will come across and miraculously set things right.
To find that a soul so fragile
still ventures out into the world in search for the light
while emitting its own soft glow.
There’s no one quite like you.

You’re a masterpiece in the making.

The dusk came;
I watched the moon glowing,
and there I have it,
a word to describe the feeling when you’re bluer than blue;
Yellow, darling,
that’s what it felt like, right?
Glowing, but empty.
It’s time to let go of those
who lift you up just to leave you emptier
than when they found you.
Remember how the sun sets to make way for the moon?
Well, this I tell you:
The moon leaves for a brighter day.
The dawn came;
I watched as the sun turned slowly
from red
to bright orange.
It’s the morning,
and
it’s
beautiful.
It’s time to rise and shine darling.
Rise above the horizon
and shine brighter.

To become your own sun,
to realize that you are the world,
and that
the people,
and the places,
and the phrases
and words
and thoughts
and ideas
that revolve
and pass around you
are
to each
their own solar systems.
It was wrong of them to tell us
that no man is an island.
Each one of us is an island,
and it is when you
peek into
The
Looking
Glass
that you realize
that some islands
have beacons
and some have
watchtowers,
yet all of them
are searching
for another light.
To shine in their way;
to lead,
or be lead
home.”

— *Y.O. & D.C.

Nights like tonight are the hardest;
Clear bluish black skies-
the deepest velvet cradling the full moon...
These nights are hardest, because I
still remember her silhouette
in silvery moonlight; My angel,
my darling, sleeping peacefully
as I cradle her close...
A dream come true, but now-
just a dream; One borne of
clear bluish black skies-
the deepest velvet cradling the full moon...
Nights like tonight are the hardest.

Slightly snowy Bouquet of red roses,

Glowing and shimmering with all color shades of light purple Egypt lilies,

On the forgotten Gods on Earth and in space always ,

Accidentally noticed but then later banned by the Queen of All Snows ,

All steering on it with unrelenting attention intently and carefully ,    marveling at its beauty,

Reflected as in a mirror in miriards of the gloomest color shades in the clouds ,
Evaporates in the endless void of space distances ....

Neverending story
The End

Into the unknown, I walk down braving the heat
Searing and almost burning like hot cement,
Then dry and dusty like burnt sand and rocks.
I fall apart at the doorway, my strength all spent,
Falling into dusty shards of burnt ash.
Before me there is a violin playing as shadowy wraiths sung.
They sing a strange song, and I am visible to everyone,
The windows are on all sides, so I decide to run.
Up the stairs, running slow, feeling as though I can't,
Only finding a piano musty and cold, damp and old,
And I feel I am being watched as I look back
To see his red glowing eyes, as bright as coals.
Then I awaken to a forgiving night. It's cold, dark and black.

Hidden treasures
are always best
when unexp
ected.

Picture this;

The first light of day is glowing,
Find yourself still dreaming,

Watch the sun as it grows,
She's still sleeping,

What is this miracle I have discovered?

The sun has not yet touched her face,

Yet!

She is glowing brighter than the brightest star,

She warms my cold life,

She illuminates my days and nights,

She brings light...

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.