The Depths of Inner Thoughts:

-The Glass Prison-

The glamour of New York, an ambiance to the towers.
Glass structures amaze as you stroll through the prism.
Upscale blocks fill you with curiosity, alleys filled with less desirables.
Carts hold their treasures as they panhandle change for wine.
Alcohol and mental illness sadly show true.
People hustle and bustle, not acknowledging as they walk by.
Barrels burn, gathering heat to survive.
Look into glossy eyes, empty and hollow they are, is there help?
These suffering souls have no guidance on which they can rely.
Some come from wealth, breaking down, relying on soup kitchens for meals.
Having dug their wretched holes, few turn and snap the chains.
Smash the bottle, stop the hell and pain, dwelling and drowning in sorrow.
There must be a change, reach your hands up and pray for an answer.
Leave your cardboard home, release your anguish.
Walk blocks in the nameless crowd; work, grow, begin your endeavor.
Now human again, there is hope, others see what you have done.
Planting a seed that will grow, remember and realize, you are the lucky one.
Stay on this journey, hold your head high, you saved yourself from dying.
Losing the hopelessness and fear as you depart on this flight into the sunrise.

-Pulp-

Obsessive compulsive, driven path.
Fragile, led by fear.
Ruling thoughts that sear.
Wallowing in the past.
Friction from cilia igniting.
Repeating a movie again.
Reeling wheels; spin and spin.
Pulling the plug is enlightening.
Look through, catch a glimpse.
Insecurity pulls you down.
Whispering voices within are not allowed.
Open the door, latch the hinge.
Fresh air, breathe deep.
Exhale erroneous waste.
Stand tall and embrace.
Spilling out all debris.
Allow no one to pull your strings.
Untie the knot in your head.
Ignore what has been said.
Uncoil addiction, deep within.
Must defeat depression.
Restore the frazzled mind.
Polished eyes do not cry.
Tightened chest, anxiety in session.
Write down what haunts you.
It’s only feelings. A planted seedling.
Always passes, leap through.
A phenomena is racing.
Swing high, to and fro
Pulled up and down low.
Get a pencil, begin erasing.
Hold close all that’s good.
Burn the bad.
Clarify what you have.
Loosen your drenched hood.
A disease, cunning and shrewd.
Talent spilling poems.
When you’re writing, sets a tone.
This is all about a mood.
Don’t outsmart yourself
With a key, open the gate.
Ignore the depths of hate.
Swallow the inner wealth.
You ask yourself why?
The controller strums the brain.
You’re not insane.
Heal your eggshell mind, it won’t crack, as long as you defy.

-The Old Oak-

Deeply rooted, there lies an old oak.
It’s bark curled from age.
All around the smell of sage.
Like an island, tall and remote.
Years and years have gone by.
It’s branches hang down.
Vines wrapped all around.
The old oak cannot be defied.
All its leaves begin to fall down.
Huge roots crawl at your feet,
You stare up, it’s hard to believe.
In awe you look and sit upon the ground.
This tree has been standing for years.
Its withstood storms with high winds.
If it had fallen, it would be a sin.
Lightning strikes, it has no fear.
A tree that brings life, others begin from him.
A new day is here.
Strength with no fear.
His top boughs sit where the air is thin.
A chop to its trunk, a mistake.,
All the insects scatter.
Squirrels begin to chatter.
An axe is all it takes.
Its falls, pounding the ground.
Its been there for many years.
The end of the old oak is here.
Everyone stands and watches, not making a sound.