MIDNIGHT POETRY ‘Alphabet of Symbols’

Alphabet of Symbols

Having said nothing
Appeared invisible
Comfort zone of a shell
Turtle in her tiny home

Study and research
Get a Nobel Prize
Heroes of today
Lost in past memories

Dust off the pollen
From the dirty veil
Vent out the brain
Crunch the letters

Empty like O
Crossed like X
Straight like I
Hooked on J
Climb on H
And Y?

Because the turmoil
Water down my back
Heart beats solid line
Freshly poured vacuum

Product of society
Packaged in cling film
Slow to change
Solid in roots

Seeds spread on toast
Down the throat
Sprouted new ideas
Inside the mind

Greater collective
Broken to pieces
Glued to the past
Waiting for a heroin

With patience
Shot of clarity
In vain
Flying past

Lie still or move

MIDNIGHT POETRY – ‘Riddled’

Riddled

As we march
Into the unpredictable
The well known ‘me’
With the insecure ‘I’

The rumbling of thoughts
Swooshing through my brain
Sparks of thunderbolts
Flashes of lightning

Microscopic greatness
On a Petri dish
Slush of fat cells
Moving through space

Invisible chains
Holding my reality
World full of sanitation
Yet without sanity

Training my perception
To look at the beauty
With grace and awe
Full of expectation
An order in an action

Stay with me
Hold me tight
We are meant to be
Have a free will
Only sign here

Illusions vanished
What came after
The time of honeymoon
Love and peace

Esteemed architects
Burning bridges
Dry land of bare souls
Living in harmony

Truth on a plate
Masking tape fell off
Wrinkled soul
Shivers exposed in the heat

Calling no number
Breaking silence
Deep within
Found the Self

Lost in the heat of night
Day full of promise
Best of times to be had
Yet to dream big

Shadows of the I
Creeping up on my Self

Exposed

Blended into wholeness

MIDNIGHT POETRY “Fooled Into Being Normal”

“FOOLED INTO BEING NORMAL”

Blind and mute
Before birth occurred
Hoaxed into living
Following suit

Coming out of darkness
Daylight rubs the eyes
Scream for the first breath
Better than staying dead

Murmur and sound
Chaos all around
Touch on the skin
To be bare now a sin

Time is of an essence
Soon adolescence
Knock on the door
Story for a new decor

Dress and heels
Case full of skills
Rising on a leader
Resting on a feather

Upon passing years
Lust and dreaded fears
Change is in the air
Going Vego to be fair

Life of pure love no more lust
Content before being dust
Priorities changing gear
Into the unknown bravely steer

Formless mind and fatty brain
Chemical imbalance holds the rein
Vivid images of unseen form
Sounds that disturb the norm

What really matters who really cares
What meaning do we give life and is it fair
In the meantime take another breath
And go to fetch your daily bread

CARRYING BABIES BY PROFESSION

Having been carrying infants for the length of my existence, I had the opportunity to experience lots of second hand emotions. There was joys, there were tears, there were upsets and clenched fists.

The most of my career I carried little Joe’s and Sandra’s until they were grown ups who left me as my shape and size where not fit for them anymore. I became used again by another newborn coming to earth and needing me to carry them around, until they fell asleep.

Now I am retired and my job with human off-springs have come to a close.
I found my second life mission helping an older lady. To carry her shopping bags.

I squeak with delight or perhaps with a little wear and tear as my used by date is near.

In the next lifetime, I plan on being a little different…

Instead of being a pram I would be happy as a golf buggy.