manic’s playground

a manic’s playground is            my mind

entrapped within a jungle gym of ludicrous joy

buried deep within the soiled sands of plunging sorrow

an unbalanced act atop the high top

the too quick and slick descent of my                sanity upon the slide

the cloying sweet-rancid smell of the tire swing

as i hold         tight

sickened-spinning-dizzy from deciphering what’s real              what’s not

Lunacy’s call

Wrote this one, after falling asleep with my blinds open, and waking in unmistakable fear with the moon shining full on my face. Was that the cause really? The confused mass of images, an overall sense of suffocation and dread, the pervasive white sheen to the images seen seemed pretty convincing then. My creative concern remains about rhyming structure not stunting a poem’s flow.

From my bedroom window pane
spied I something that
kept me from sleeping sane:

waxed and waned before my eyes
silver dollar gleaming in the sky

sparkled strangely twice than thrice
slanted grain of bitter rice
would lunacy’s luridness entice?

milky blinded wandering eye
with pallid brightness slowly did it cry
shimmering sickle, heavy eyes did pry
sobered dreams calmly defied

relentless rhyme upon my pen
sightless goddess do not seek me again

following with her unblinking gaze
tempting weakened minds with searing craze

do not stalk with me with your lantern white
I plead of slumber hold me tight

twinkle twinkle fickle moon
let me be Madame La Lune.

Devil thy name…

devil thy name is:
procrastination!

There u sit
proudly
at the back of
my wandering mind

reminding yet reprimanding
any action towards a dutiful cause

one could fully know
what one
would do…should do

if one wasn’t so

easily…wretchedly…wooed

by your ungodly messenger Time.

Yes, Time…

You and your ever impermanent leash
pushing and pulling
towards a imaginary un/dead-line/point.

a mere sphere of imagination

where
procrastination
sits high upon his
throne
ever
teasingly ruining
my chances
at reaching sanity.