I am old frustrated thought
I look into my once eagle eyes
and find them dim before my dead mother,
I see through clouded egg whites with days
passing by like fog feathers.
I trip over old experiences and expressions,
try hard to suppress them or revisit them;
I’m a fool in my damn recollections,
not knowing what to keep and what to toss out—
but the dreams flow like white flower and deceive
me till they capture the nightmare of the past images
in a black blanket wrapped up
and wake me up before my psychiatrist.
I only see this nut once every three months.
It is at times like these I know not where I walk
or venture. I trip over my piety and spill my coffee cup.
I seek sanctuary in the common place of my nowhere life.
Solid footing is a struggle in the sock of depression
it is here the days pass and the years slip like ice cubes.
MICHAEL LEE JOHNSON is a poet and freelance writer from Itasca, Illinois. His new poetry chapbook with pictures, titled From Which Place the Morning Rises, and his new photo version of The Lost American: from Exile to Freedom are available here. The original version of The Lost American: from Exile to Freedom, can be found here.
Michael has been published in over 22 countries. He is also editor/publisher of four poetry sites, all open for submission, which can be found at his Web site: http://poetryman.mysite.com. All of his books are now available on Amazon.com.