Airplane poetry

Last year four scared kids sat next to each other on a plane ride to Panama, the country they would be living in for the next six months or a year. They passed around my orange leather journal taking turns writing lines of poetry. What we got was experimental, at times cheesy, yet bursting with raw emotion. What we got was this:

The softness of the morning

echoes off the stark darkness of night.

Dreams rewind into reali life.

Remembering is like riding a

bike; you never forget

the stick aroma of nightmares

constrasting the bittersweet feeling

of good dreams ending.

Some dreams won't end soon

enough.

You wanted it to last forever, but

nothing lasts forever...so it's your nothing

your only escape from

your safe haven, your perfect insanity.

Mysteries are there forever

never to be answered or never

to be questioned

like the time capsule nestled deep

within your mind

that spreads thoughts of uncertainty,

of forgetting regrets,

remembering mistakes, unpaid debts.

The lights flicker, you're pitched into

the opaque.

Your only glimmer of hope is the shining

crescent moon.

Release your memories, your dreams;

don't regret, repent.

The shallow waters of joy never satisfy.

The hungers of sin are never sated, yet

the dark tip of guilt relaxes you,

takes you back to the impish pleasures

of childhood when

ignorance truly was bliss.

The innocence triumphs with a resounding cry.

Why must we battle the monsters

that impossibly exist?

We battle the parietal sanctuary

we live in, desperately seeking solace

in the caverns of those who wound us.