Words at the Speed of Consciousness

Vincent A. Alascia
Nov 17, 2002

Let slip forgotten memories
and words that don’t rhyme
like a rain soaked beach whose
waves tells a silent story
a singer has no song
a poet whose words fall wrong
when I get that feeling
like a tomorrow that forgot to dawn
I am reminded of the night
I learned that a rose has thorns
now I am standing on that beach
watching those waves as the story
erodes faster than my pen can move
words at the speed of consciousness
make no sense at all

This Old Oak Tree

Vincent A. Alascia

I fear this day has come to pass
and I am left alone at last
out through darkened woods I do trot
to this spot, could it not, shelter me
Standing, standing beside this old oak tree

All that  I try to remember
now leaves my heart a dying ember
she was pretty, gentle and kind
full of mind, here we dined, she and me
A picnicking under this old oak tree.

Today, my love, I view no more,
buried is she, beyond love’s locked door
though I know not how, it hurts to say
try I may, one more day, her to see
Laughing, laughing next to this old oak tree.

What brings me here now I do not know
the air grown cold, the moon is low
I cannot leave this place just yet
while I fret, my sun’s set, what shall be
Thinking, thinking about this old oak tree.

Must I carry on till morrow
only to wake and find new sorrow
and like the spring here lies my hope
can I cope, lest my rope, not hold me
Hanging, hanging beneath this old oak tree.

Lost in a Dream

Vincent A Alascia
May 12, 2007

Lost in a dream of sentimental nothingness
Fragments from my mind dance alone
Pictures out of order obscure
Runaway thoughts in a world of masks
Where is truth?
Lies may offer temporary comfort
When nothing you do brings tomorrow.