The vibrancy of spring is in the air;
and the dark brown shells that protect
against winter’s growthless realm
vibrates again, mothered by a soft sun.

And though there is joy all around me
my heart does not lift up. My soul carries
on its back a weight that drags me down.
A weight that seems to stifle all growth.

The buoyancy of a ballon is the lightness
of the gas that fills it, so that it descends
up to the heavens. The gas has not filled,
my spirit has not sparkled soul’s buoyancy.

Spread the word
and spill the beans.
My bucket-list
is full of dreams.

Some are big,
some humbly small,
but they are all
aspirations to call.

We might suffer
disappointments,
we might suffer regrets;
and we shall always
meet doubts and threats.

I wanted to be a poetess
and a good mom too.
I wanted a world of justice,
that speaks but true.

But as it tends to forge
I find me a dreamer
with a bit of despair,
a modest human being
who dreads and dares;

Self-depreciated, self-contained
afraid to show true face
Remaining nameless, by design
they're lost in the human race.

Bereft of praise and reassurance,
skating on thin ice, it seems
rememberance of better times
and their unbroken dreams.

Depression pushes down on them
then secrets manifold,
They cannot trust, they do not dare,
the secret story is untold.

Dark and dangerous mental state
do they dare to live?
Desperately flailing, signaling,
" Have I more to give?"

I sense him come bounding like a stone
That skips the water when it is thrown,
Up to my side a companion of old,
I welcome him though my blood runs cold.

Thankful am I that he will not stay
Though I do not know how long the days
Just that my pet will stay close to my side,
Hiding the sun, let no warmth abide.

My black dog sits always close to me
No comfort he gives, No light to see,
Just cold grey clouds that block the sun,
Cast me down to the pit where despair does run.

Sleep... Death's gentle cousin;
Come dust my eye lids
With your feather-like kiss.
Softly convey a promise.
Take me to a dreamless state
As you color my reality...
Where I can recline in soft arms;
Slumber now, this dark depression!

Upon the Land of Imagery I land, Oh,
In search of endless mystery.
I pick its ripening fruits, to grow
With its seeds the poetry tree.

I've toured around for years its highs
For there's more ... a poets call,
Some fruits delight the tired eyes,
Some sing, some drawl and squall.

I've seen the cream, sour and sweet;
They trigger up tremendous arts.
Some soft and silky, they gently treat,
While others hard as stony hearts.

On Imagery Land go find me,
Painting pieces of poetry.

My dinosaur found this poem today,
And started biting the letters awa_;
He swallow_d many synonyms,
While I was eatin_ my M&Ms.
The beast kept chewin_ th_ words that rhym_,
Right as I was flippin_ throug_ his spine;
I wrot_, he chewed -
I searched, he spew_d.
Then fina_ly puttin_ my pencil dow_
I scold_d him, an_ he just frowne_.
Thoug_ he’s not a Tyrannosaurus -
He is a carnivor_us Thesaurus.
Down boy!

Like a traveler seeking the main highway,
In the depths of his mind, memories swirl and sway,
But unsure of when the path will come into view,
A person yearning to return to the life he once knew.

He longs for the familiar sights and sounds,
The comfort of routines and familiar grounds,
Yet the road ahead is shrouded in mist,
And the way back seems so far, so missed.

A shadow falls upon my heart,
The light of joy does fade.
In hollow chambers, empty tears,
My soul, in sorrow, weighed.

The murmur in the world dies
the dark thoughts of which I smell,
As I step with my heavy tread.
In solitary hell.

Days long, nights cold
In grief, my spirit lies.
I gallop aimless through the dark,
Beneath these weary skies.

Grey without end, without light, without hope
Depression's cruel embrace.
A silent scream for every day,
A slow, unyielding race.

The views and opinions herewith extemporized to spur discourse with me, or to be mindful when exercising the right to vote in the country of your existence, which expressed intimation predicated upon read reliable publications such as Mother Jones, Smithsonian Magazine, The Nation, The Week, and TIME Magazine, which trustworthy and reputable sources of information brought to the fore of me noggin an alarming concern for those who consider themselves liberal Democrats, Libertarians and even moderate Republicans aware of avast conglomeration of bullies hell bent on usurping power upon self a