tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65401502011-04-21T21:17:44.356-07:00A collection of thoughts through poetry, short stories, and novels.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06470449737549298851noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6540150.post-1077828671837773322004-02-26T12:49:00.000-08:002004-02-26T12:54:03.030-08:00CLOAKED <br /> <br />Scratch the pad to make sure the ink runs <br />Silence in the air except for the slow tunes and the mind of one <br /> <br />Pressing on, pushing creativity to a point of no return <br />An hour past the oil of midnight burn <br /> <br />I come in peace ready to release my anger like a shark <br />I’m completely at ease as I write in the dark <br /> <br />Now the tunes are none as the lyrics were too piercing <br />Stabbing at the old wounds, it’s fierce seeing <br />The memories play out like a flick <br />Except there is no ending, no credits a rolling <br />free to all so no tickets <br />Are ever requested, just the presence to lend an ear <br />As I send you near my soul as it appears <br />Guided by emotions, distracted by fears <br />It’s hard to tell the dreams from reality <br />reality from nightmares <br /> <br />Step by step, but in what direction am I going <br />Towards the mindless rivers a flowing <br />Towards the peaks of mountains snowing <br />Towards the fields of grasses growing <br />I need the knowledge, I need the knowing <br />I need the essence of wonder blowing <br />I need the body of a lady showing <br />All I have missed, pulling, towing <br /> <br />Bringing me to my euphoria, my state in which all aspects of myself act in unison <br />For the simple goal of pleasure, this darkness is comforting, but it would be more so if one <br />Were no longer alone, were no longer needing to be strong <br />I want someone to share my dreams with literally, is that so wrong <br /> <br />Passion burns, passion fades, passion plays the role of escapade. Tremoring heart with no stairs to climb inflicted by love so dumb is the mind. Thunderous thoughts of rage and sentiment, built as a fortress containing each element that is needed to flourish, except one keeps escaping past the guards. Not hope, not fantasy, but its longevity that discards <br /> <br />by Paul Bascomb <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6540150-107782867183777332?l=soulfulthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06470449737549298851noreply@blogger.com