Histrionics
by Sam M. Phillips

It’s hard to get up and running,
But once you do there’s no use in summing
It all up in a single poem,
You need to let your mind roam.

I find a home
In the hearty loam
Of my life,
Organise strife
In several volumes,
It consumes
All my time
And yet doesn’t last,
The actual writing happens so fast.

Blast of inspiration
To describe the situation,
Action of regular living,
My muse giving
It that higher taste
As I move in haste.

Waste of ink
To help me think,
Sink beneath these waves,
Symbology saves
Us both from boredom.

Do not condemn
These words until they are heard,
I know the journey is absurd,
Blurred by slurred speech,
This is my effort to teach
You how to be,
How to understand me,
You and I are one,
All souls merge in the sun.

Son of reincarnation,
Work through your frustration
And see the magical layers,
We’re all players
On a galactic stage,
So forgive this bombastic sage
His histrionics,
These electronics
Are dictating the flow
Of everything we may know.

***

My debut short story collection is here!

INFINITY AND I: Seventy Science Fiction Short Stories

Get a copy here: INFINITY AND I: Seventy Science Fiction Short Stories