pretty gold cage

like a bird

in a cage

i can't fly

i can't sing

i can't see the sky

or feel the air

to be given wings

with feathers to fly

to know my real purpose

but not be able to rise

from my perch

in a pretty gold prison

i sit all the day

and cry all the night

mourning a life

i don't understand

one with space to grow

one with room to become

what i was made to become

not sit in a pretty gold prison

with a pretty gold key

that i stare at all day

but out of twisted values i stay

and watch the key turn

twisting and teasing

tantalizing

torturing me

just within reach

till i turn too

and ignore the truth

that i am afraid

to touch the key

and be free

-d.b.

10/29/16

words

my thoughts are mine
as such
my words are mine
they form
inside my head
they brew
a storm
of pure emotion
mixed with thought
a dash of inspiration--
thank you God--
i give life
to words
because
they yearn
for freedom
full release
from my head
because
they swirl
in spirals
outward
pressing out
against my skull
moving
to my mouth
and out
or else i keep them
in
and then
they move
to my heart
and strike
a chord
or else i keep them
in
and then
they move
to my fingers
spirals
create
force
of highest energy
it transfers
to the surface
either paper
or the screen
visible
at last
they scream
wanting
to be heard
and
at last
i am relieved
of
beauty.

-d.s.b.
11/13/2013