Look around and you’ll see
the gallery of the make believe.
See the different masterpieces that surround?
Each created by a different inspired mind.

Everyone is creative.

Know thyself?
Or know the image painted for the world?
One look in the mirror, can one see the brush strokes?
“The mask that grins and lies”, Dunbar’s words not mine.

Everyone is inventive.

Where there is hurt, a lovely shade of yellow covers
it from those who would see, like the sun,
but with a dash of bubble gum pink to distract
from the shadow underneath.

Everyone is resourceful.

The flaws are cleaned with a sleek angelic CONTINUE READING

She is an artist, self described prisoner of her thoughts. She sits and often weeps, in the padded room,  cushioned with her head in the sand, an ostrich with dirt in the eyes. Serial butcher with a brush. Her delusions, painted over hurt. She pretends she doesn’t care About the world. About the people [...]

Behind the pale clouds, of the mind, which like mountains climb, into the burning sky of consciousness, lies a vivid memory, of a child holding a chocolate

ice-cream cone as it weeps onto his finger tips.

Beyond the child, his reflection is cast on a tainted window from where the view is as shattered, [...]

Bitter, is the taste of defeat embodied in the tears of grief.

Suffocation, so cold it tears down the soul, brings it down to failure’s feet.