The Quiet Storm Enters A Room...
In this world of many roomsthis world of many minds
this world of many tombs
the many confined
trying to climb this established line
this world of many rooms
lets exemplify a few of mine.
My room is one of many
it's many in one
claustrophobic me, existential becomes
succumb to my inner mysticism drum
only to release sounds enlight of the sun
when windows of my room open forth I run
nonetheless meticulous tryst indoctrinate just one
One singular thought in kinetics flung
poetics released as the ton of my plum
from my perception none as I set in my chair
fluid lines wrung with my fingers with care
I don't sit in despair, Im the reason Im here
my rooms become me, dualistic altair
in all its white light I presume to endear
as I manifest rhyme thus it sways with air
this room is my third eye engendering tears
with oraculous flare through the windows it jeers.
My room is one or many
it's one inconformed
sociophobic me, inner vessel conform
to stretch reality In the body im home
amongst like the spoken word of God I zone
everywhere and all there the locked seamless attic door
in relative darkness bring light in rapport
more the moor in rancour I felt
saw my heart melt from within in stealth
what is left but the core of breath
flesh encompassed but will open for death
Manifests
The room of my soul, this poem looms
metaphoric catacombs in poetic swoons
I like similies but there is none to choose
Iam a room within a room, within another room
from the desolate wounds of my room I move
I can never be doomed just broomed to another tomb
I hope to end up as a room of the greatest moon
this poem resumes
........missing words ammuse
the spectator or you, the one of many rooms.
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