The Life That İS More Real ... Here İT İS .... Poem by RIC BASTASA

before you arrive there
on that valley
you think that everything will be smooth
no creases, no cuts,
nothing about dirty paths
or gardens of silence
fruitless trees, brown grasses
waterless spots,
no dew
at dawn

one who is real somehow begins to
accept
all these: expectations tumbling down
a life drawn with crooked lines
people are nothing but shadows without faces
hopes smothered like crumpled babies
a life that you never once imagined
papers burning themselves
poems that scream instead
of sing
birds that crawl
though gifted with complete wings
a twisted world
a dusty room
books without pages
toothless stairs
Styrofoam rails
paths with pebbles
and thorns
roses that wilt as buds

the people that you trust
and love
they all lied.