The Ocean in my Bedroom
It’s 4 in the morning,
feels like the end of December,
The night is warm and cold,
Fan hissing, papers cluttering,
The silence of the sound sings,
I sit here, reflecting on the inner light,
Smoking philosophy, snorting science,
The river of light slithers on the ceiling,
Drizzling in the ocean in my bedroom,
Waves of thought crashing in me,
Colliding corroding eroding the cliffs of belief,
Destroying destructing whirlpooling the railings of me,
Floating with the children, wiser ones drown,
Ocean gushes to the shore, don’t wanna get out, wanna drown,
Air gushes incoming from distant lands,
Yet in the bedroom here I stand,
Live it in, breathe it out,
For I see it all,
Butterfly balloons, psyche marooned,
Flamingos on softy cones, forests on spoons,
Melted cigarettes, smokey books,
Burning hearts, goldfishes in eyeballs,
Nature’s cleavage, mid-life salvage,
Boots with tongue, innocence when it's young,
Swan in the glass, a garden without grass,
A baby on Saturn, a jigsaw without pattern,
Love is to understand,
I understand,
Come to the bedroom…
See the desert in the ocean,
Sun so bright, burning the pond of life,
Sands of past and future, sinking in now,
A desert stream meanders in your bedroom,
This creek of a “poem” is just a spring,
Realize…
Behind these words, is a sea of naught,
Womb to tomb, life is gloom,
In this bedroom, life is in bloom,
It is nothing but, just …
the ocean in my bedroom …
the ocean in your bedroom …
