Click Here For Spaghetti Brains

(this poetry is best read while listening to ambient music)

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BURNED

Where did my optimism go?
I feel empty inside and cannot get
This stain out of my head, repeating
The procedure does no good.

So I return to the place of the honest
Quest for fire that left me wanting that fire
In the gut and a flat approach to life that
Leaves one feeling flat and burned.

I’ve been burned too many times, but
I still experiment with fire, whether
Water is around or not, to quench
The flames of another’s organic reaction.

I awake to my relevant state and think
That I am now awake but what of this dream?
Or the one before it, and why am I stuck
In this rut, and what will get me out.

(Written 21 August 2011, Posted 4 February 2012)
Taken from the forthcoming Stephen Philips book
"Irrelevant: My Attempts at Obscurity"

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SITTING, ISOLATED

Sitting, isolated
Quietly dreaming of
Soft frozen moments
In time eternal.
Where could the daylight
Be?
Why would I even care.
Turning a blind eye to,
The ways of this world,
But still totally consumed
By it.

(Written 28 June 2006, Posted 17 June 2008)

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WISHFUL DREAMING

Wishful dreaming,
Seeming lonely,
Wondering wandering,
Feeling anomaly.

Hearing the soft flow,
Of the moth glow,
On the end table,
I pick up the remote.

And feel so remote,
From you,
As you fly off,
To other destinations.

And never attempt,
To return.

(Written 2007, Posted April 2008)

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