dreams are a reality

Ho ho ho
A deep laugh some miles away rings in my ears
Awake from a deep slumber I rub my eye
Put on my fluffy pink bunny slippers and flippity flop thru the house
I rush to see
Under the tree
And find the redictable
Until I see this small little box
And voila !
It has a golden key
A l’ll note inside ablue tote
Proclaims this hear ye hear ye
“ it’s the key to my heart
steal it
but don’t tear it apart
keep it as safely as can be
for it will unfold
magic more than its weight in gold”
perplexed n confused I keep it back
fold the pack
and
flippy floppity back
I drift away in sweet oblivion
Dreams of a land so cold its bitter
Sends shivers down my spine
Dreaming of star dust as my eye shadow all pressed into a tight box in the form of a sparkling snowflake
I pass by a frost covered lake
On a big ice box I see my present all wrapped up n the key inside
Wake up with a jolt and the box is open and alas…..
The key is gone …
As I cry into my morning cup of tea
I pray to santa and the lored and say
Try as I may I cant forget the dream of a love gone far away …dream for some but a biting pricking poking reality for me …

burning bridges

The pain is so deep it tears me up
There is an endless creation of hurt ,questions and uncertainity
Nothing I do Nothing people say helps
Its certain
I must destroy the hope for getting back ….for its only an illusion
To accept that its over is tough
To re-generate and live on and find new paradigms is a challenge

deep

Permanent Scars
They will always bleed
No Matter the medicine
Thinking of time being heal
I am forced to see
When all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep sleep and sleep

The Core.

Hope lives on in the form of a thin weak thought
Swinging btwn indecision
Memory of deceit saps the juice and strains the fibre
The core is in danger

hope.......

The vagaries of time show on walls
The old croaking clock staggers
Memories of times gone by slither out , hiss at my present
as the poison spreads
death is certain
suddenly the window opens ….

coffe neone?

Clink clank clink clank its like imaginary buttons of a rusty old typewriter going on non stop in my head which is currently home to several zillion thought processes of which my conscious self can focus only on 2 max 3 …
Work what happened at work
Will I wake up on time tmw
What abt the 5 novels I am reading will the stories mix in my head as I try not to fall asleep on one
Some of these superficial thoughts have large debates lying underneath and huge conversations just waiting to explode
But then who does one converse with these thoughts that mostly die a silent death in the folds of my overheated brain?
Who will spend precious time n cell monies on talking abt say why the greenpeace revolution is not a revolution at all or did the pune marathon really go off as well as it was supposed to maybe as mundane as to the petrol strike that happened or even as rubbish n trivial as why I never seem to have enough to spend??!

Humm neways maybe I shall talk to myself over a cup of coffee at a good cosy coffee shop facing a lawn with not too much noise around …but hey didn’t that café shut down some time back?!