Tuesday, July 5, 2011

If I sit here; in my cocoon

Picture;  My Cocoon, Soutpans Avenue view of long unfinished hotel constructions -by Marc Aupiais; Copyright Marc Aupiais,

Tempest and the Hurricane Poem: If I sit here; in my cocoon - by Marc Evan Aupiais

If I sit: with music on in
bedroom! Walls so
soundproof in house- that
you cannot hear anything

If I sit here;
One voice ; only voice;
If I lay here;
Curtains closed;

If I listen here;
Say here;
It stays here;

If I play my music;
All is blurred;
Its only you and me;

If I listen to my music;
All else blurs;
Darkness over my soul;
Over my heart;
Blackest stars;
Shoot upon the stars;

And green;
Is the darkness of Africa skies;
As a million; billion; trillion eyes;
But none; not;

Stare from a billion clouded stars;

But here; in my cocoon;
Green skies;
Grey and blue clouds;
A strange Cyan-red and purple;
Crimson, red, purple!

And all blurs as my music plays;
Sound-proof-ed walls;
All blurs;
Nothing extant;

And I look to you as I close my eyes;
Typing life upon your eyes;
And I wonder;
Tele-path-y of heart and mind;

The strange clouds circle and swirl;
They blur reason;
They breach sanity;

Red lights flash;
As closed eyes see the sun;

And my music plays;
As the world does change;
And my music plays;
All -all all all that is firmly stays!

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