I have been absent from my blogging it’s not even funny. I am back though, after going through a tidal wave of life, love and family issues. To my fellow bloggers be on the lookout for my new and exciting works. I do hope the New Year has been treating you all well.
check my poem portrait video on youtube.
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The hardest part about living is going through life not knowing who or what I am meant to be,
I keep trying to live up to people’s expectations of me,
For some I am a friend, a motivator, an inspiration or perhaps a
beacon of hope.
So many effort put into crafting and discovering myself just to end up lost,
In a time paradox of a multi complex universe
where dreams materialise and small corporations turn in to franchise,
Misled by a delusional illusion of my mind
Like the fact that the blood beneath my skin is blue and once it hits the open air it becomes red.
As if that wasn’t already a burden,
I am left to travel along this weary path with confused souls who are like ticking time bombs with very short fuses,
This is not your ordinary muse,
I am just an average guy who refuses to be conformed, contorted by this reality with no surety of what lies in the next.
It’s just a hit, smash or pass situation causing unwanted frustration,
Disguised in an awkward mobo jumbo of black and white complications
Where my sanity is a mess and is in need of constant sanitisation.
They say a beautiful mind is attractive,
How can I see the beauty of mine, when it’s in complete chaos?
A tamarind tree provides the shade he needs,
Cooling the spot where he rests.
A tomb for his seat,
Leaves blowing in the wind.
Inspiration at ever turn like the sun as it illuminates the sky,
Still he’s not sure what to write.
Thoughts running through his mind,
Like a stream that runs for miles.
He’s barely known,
Not yet famous,
The words he writes are his own.
Many days he sits silently alone,
Pen in hand,
Book sprawled across his lap,
Waiting for a friend,
Perhaps a stranger to come along.
It brings him great pleasure to share the thoughts he conjures up,
He writes from a place that brings him solace and comfort,
so don’t take from him what you didn’t give.
Copyright © Xavier Frazer 2016
All rights reserved. Including the rights to reproduce this poem, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this poem may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.