Unpublished New Poem

Stress Ball

My entire life has been a lie

Me, the real me

Has been the skater on the fractured ice

Escaped prisoner of my own Alcatraz

I have never lived up to my name

My name was never my choice

I’m tired of living this lie

Counterfeit currencies of second hand energies

The snatched seconds of satisfaction

The snatched seconds of contentment

Rebound, Rebound,

My stress ball is aching and bruised

V Topp

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Mental Wealth

Mental Wealth This is my place, This is yours You can come back to who you really are here The dreamer stays To taste the rain The nature's rust Tans the skin As the birds make music again With the only conductor being the new day Home is here. Here is always home Do you know where you belong? I do, I do Watching a grey squirrel pat down his buried treasure I saw him pretend five time before On his dummy runs, to confuse the competition This is where the real x marks the spot It's what i can see It's what i can hear It's what i can feel Flickering white glimpses of light The cracks of surprise Like timid ghosts Rain broke the silence of thinking The vibration is ringing like a bell Give me this beautiful vaccine For the sake of my mental wealth The only wealth I want V Topp

Long Time Awake

Long Time Awake The mountains scratch the sky Birds of prey shield the sun from unprotected eyes Nature is secure, Nature is the ruler. Clouds sprinkle rain with magical restorative powers There's fortune in this land, above and below the ground Everyday is a gift, Natural fulfilment the reality. The seas are high but the waves are mellow Everything's in order, everyone has their own space Eternal unity, Sensible philosophy 'One day at a time, One day at a time'. The hours go slowly by, Long time awake V Topp

Before The Clouds Move Over

Before The Clouds Move Over Riding his purple Harley Davidson At a thoughtful controlled speed Along the dusty winding mountain top road Not long now, till he’s at his sanctuary. The power of music still revving In his inner voice, his heart and soul Unfinished choruses Half thought out melodies A musician that’s born, not made. All was quiet as the bike cooled down He sat in his favourite spot Looking down onto the lake No distractions here. A tune he knows by heart, now plays in his head His lips mime the words This tune he started working on a year or so ago But he keeps coming back to Because something is still missing He still can’t leave this alone. The sun’s rays interrupt his composing Shadow of the bike now in front of his feet Then the birds from nowhere swoop down low Heading for the lake-side trees They start a melody so beautiful, no musician has ever matched But then they argue And the tune is lost...

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