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Copyright 2017 Phoebe Thomasson

Poet

I dream of standing
speaking my words 
from soul song
into your eyes,
direct line
from mine;
channels open
beneath me
is my heart,
throbbing
lust into my words.

I dream of standing
alone in the void
uncluttered
at ease,
a million to one
chance of
survival
embodied, 
emboldened
by you
and you
joined.

What am I doing?
here it is again
that 'run out' feeling
where am I?
escaping to
the inner countryside
where my cottage in the sun
waits patiently
for me
to flee
the city's gravity.

Its ok
I'm fine!
my feet firmly planted
this time,
this song
all mine.

I rival her
but with a twist
for rivalry
is not really my style at all
is there something I've missed?
It's more of a sharing 
a collective bean-bag of thought
each thought is a tiny polystyrene bead
like quick silver
it weight something
is highly toxic (to most)
and endlessly alluring

only the experience
need apply
for the position
'poet'.