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Brian Ball


A creative notion,
fearful and frightened,
breaking my heart,
resentment and desolation,
splitting my brain in half.
Passion I want today,
words cracking my soul,
firing across the bleak desert,
sand pouring out of my mouth.
Trying to write a story as if true,
mind confused and bewildered,
brawling with my inner thoughts.
Reality striving to disappear,
lucking in rhythm and lyrics,
sound pounding within.
My heart beating fast and slow,
attempting to find new stories,
people's personal enhanced opinion,
pain anguishing with love,
inside my creative mind,
new and old as one.
A war rallying around my veins,
shaking until the last word
and the save button is pressed.

Looking through eyes invisible but clear,
glitter without shine, the bar empty and dry.
Inside dirty and dull, cobwebs trapping flies,
screaming and unscripted they slowly die.
Spiders wait for comedy to return,
laughter and smiles to fill the auditorium again.
Ghostly comedians waiting with apprehension,
frantically enter stage to applause and laughter,
only enjoyed by the non living with smiling faces.
Outside building is sad, comedy sign falling down,
missing many letters, front door boarded,
colourful hoardings gone, sparkling no more.
Sky looking glum, moon full of tears,
no one projecting far, building with no echoes,
comedy and laughter is the building's history.