Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Dream Deferred


Sometimes, I sit and frantically listen
Listen to my internal, silent screammm
build, building, building
to maximum decimals
that longs to burst, stumble forth
to be set free

Disappointment, yes
Despair, maybe
Defeat, never

Can you hear it too?
Listen closely
The urgent wailings
tortured groans,
moans
Listen carefully
to my internal, silent scream that screeches and scratches
so loudly that I'm completely numb inside

Numb from dreaming, scheming and screaming
while grasping, clawing for the stars
and beyond
Numb from an internal longing,
a desire so strong
so deep
so organic
so real
so true

To be heard
to have a strong, vibrant voice
not just any voice that blends in with all the rest
to make a big difference in a small way
to be a legend, innovator
to leave a legacy
to be immortal

Sometimes, I sit and silently cringe
Cringe at the invisible ache and puppet strings
that stir and pull my soul
from a deep, guttural place within
This way and that
Bursting free
No rest
No peace

Unable to live and foster my dream
Unacceptable
External forces beyond my control
dream dashers
powers that be
no respect, saturation
diminishing my passion

Inside, my spirit dies piece by piece
like rotting meat
bit by bit
little by little
Each and every day

From the words of Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load

Or does it explode?

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2 Comments:

Blogger Alex Manly said...

I was glad to read this piece.
It's a perfect reflection of my own feelings.
Thank you from another writer who's desperately trying to be heard.
Yes, there's something looking for a way to be released, to be cast into words, to find the hearts and minds that would share your feelings. And yes, it may open some gate to the new and higher worlds, or it may once explode inside, or it would slowly and painfully kill you day by day.
That's the way we writers live. We're all poisoned, and there's no salvation :)
Alex.

Wednesday, July 06, 2011  
Blogger Electa Rome Parks said...

Alex,

Hi. I'm pleased you were feeling my piece. It captured my mood at that moment, well actually, my mood a lot of times lately.

As writers we are slaves to our passion, because even if not a single word I wrote was read...I'd still write.

Electa

Wednesday, July 06, 2011  

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