Blues

In a world of chaos

Some are choosing their blues

The big ones, the little ones

And they ponder in recluse

So be wary and considerate

That you know not their fate

For some have slept

Only to wake and walk

Walking, but not existing

For some have dreamt

A thousand dreams, yet still sulk

Moping in misery

And for some, they are hoping

For a glimpse of a miracle

Hands clasped tightly

As they mumble prayers of petition

And as for the writer,

She cries out for reassurance

Tonight, feeling weighted more

By the littlest of blues

My Own Best Friend

Nothing like a listener

Who’ll understand your heart

Nothing like a fella who respects your solitude

Nothing like the perfect partner to see the world with

Nothing like being your own best friend

The loner retreats but is in good company

Who knows the next hour, who knows tomorrow

But he surely knows how to make time stop

Every second meaningful, every night laden with colorful dreams

Don’t say the loner is lonely

There is wealth and lush potential in the quietness of his aura

Up In Flames

Cast as a lonely figure
Sometimes this is calming,
The world is noisy
And its people, the initiators.
I want my thoughts in flames.

But this lonely figure,
Sometimes, she is misunderstood
The world reproaches.
Its people, intolerant,
I want their stains and dents up in flames.

The Loner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ocean waves part the shore,

Goodbye they bid

Solemn but sure

Receding into the fade

Clouds chase the sun

Envious of his light

His glow, they mar

Out of mind and out of sight

Prisoner to the night,

The loner dwells in thoughts

Visioning rainbows bright,

But never beyond four walls.