Not many adhere to the sounds
Of my generous companion,
They dismantle our livelihood
and with ego's as tall as mountains
Overlooking the flow that streams like fountains
Often inbound when, entrapped like fools
To a room with white walls
One bed and a stool
Beyond these swinging doors
Stands something most men would die for,
And some wouldn't think twice
About giving there life for
Which moves them right towards
Being so smooth and calm
As two hungry lovers, hold hands in song
It started feelings, which can't last for long
Because time is of the essence
Until the essence is gone
Thoughts entangled like a swamp
misplacing where the sanity belongs
While reminiscing of skipping rock
on fresh open water, writes poems
memories jumped around in my head
like frogs moving from lily pad to lily pad
A recovery from vast, nebulous moments.
Filled with grace to embrace
A man in a white suit
Burst toward the swinging doors
Like handling a tray of the chefs special,
Dark, pyramids quivering from filled deserts
Water of a tainted oasis
Cocktail sauce dropped into a golden cup
Vodka and tequila people drinking
Salt, lime, sucking lemons
swallowing fire, with a cherry to top
Nothing could shun away this doom
Clouds of cigarette smoke filled the room
Its aroma reeked of manure and perfume,
Sounds of shattered glasses, rudeness and laughter
With more time I would've been battered in mind
Then a visiting poet looked over my shoulder
And began to tell me a line......
"Prayers are always shifting
Like ashes to the clocks of sand,
Words of the curious with violent uncertainties
The promised land
Which will always remain, a valley below,
And the crisp view of heavenly mountains
The turn of gods hands, flows like a breeze
Determining the breaths of life or death"
Going threw stages of ages
Time goes from minutes to hours
Sweat begin to pour
Like when it rains or it showers
There certain duty's to uphold
People's emotions rely in ones hands
A finished steak, represents a dinner break
But on a stage,
It's as good as a diminished fate
The crowd angers and goes crazy,
from three babies, two men and one ladie
The voice display is put back,
onto it's long dark colored poll
As a disappointed walk of shame
turns to a calm stroll
signed Joseph P. Hughes
Ps: I'm off to the swinging doors
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