Lost Islands

Inside each of us,
Waiting to be released
Is the beast from which society
Imprisons our true selves,
The ones that our consciences correct
In order to keep the masks over our faces
And the bars in front of our prison cells.
Wouldn't it be great
If society transformed into nature?
No inhibitions, no sentiments;
The wings that were clipped when we fell to Earth
Suddenly regrown after the flood dried out,
Evaporating the moats that isolate us
On little islands where only a select few
Are able to travel upon,
And let us take off the masks
That keep us on the assembly line.
Should you venture onto my island,
I shall invoke a compartment
Of my personality to benefit yours,
A new mask each of us can use,
One among hundreds of others
Tucked away with costumes inside
A wardrobe of names.

The Waves of Life

On a crisp autumn evening 
He sails out to the sea 
Where birds of white feather 
Fly by like each memory. 
There goes the story of his life 
With each passing wing 
Reminding him of days gone by 
And nightingales that sing. 
The stars hang like icicles 
Melting high over the city 
Whose lights shine on the water 
Silver with a shining clarity. 
Arabesque angels in the sky 
Weave all the miracles of life 
As the old man drifts from shore 
Thinking about his long lost wife. 
She's gone, she's gone, 
She's left him all alone 
To wait for him in the firmament 
Where lovers must atone. 
The shapeless ocean lifts him up 
To taste their celestial delight 
Only to bring him back down 
In the dismantlement of night. 
Up and down, up and down 
It clearly seems to me 
That we drift over the waves of life 
Like the old man on the sea.