not what I wanted

Carlos made the poem , then I made this after experiencing the ‘Poem’.

Author: Carlos Solorza
Word Count: 508

Beneath the stars
he was born
amongst the stars of hollywood
he was lost
where others go to be found
he quietly slipped away
Quiet he remained
throughout his childhood
as he became aware
the awareness sharpened
his senses
the creativity of others
and his own
Such great joy
when painting giant eyeballs
surfing on a wall
flames touching water
it was beautiful
and in his mind
dancing for no one to see
He heard the music
of the airplane
as his soul jumped out
to grab it
to take it all in
and with this he was fed
Slowly, painfully
his creativity stiffled
laughed upon by others
and by his father
the rebellion began
his dreams he would put away
only to see them
from a distance
out of grasp
As his soul played music
he danced in his head
no one wanted to see
Years passed by
and wrinkles set in
as the soul began to freeze
perhaps covered by lies
and the blindness of others
He can sit quietly for hours
amongst the crowds
working, playing, pretending
but, he understands
the old man in the corner
swaying to silent music
where he also dances in his head
A bit aged
still, he rebels those
who tell him what is right
when he knows it is not
Realizing those who
display their own creativity
without guilt
he takes a step and
back into the box
in chains
On occasion his soul connects
with ecstacy
of another’s freedom
the freedom within
their own minds
that allows one to
in hopes that another
will understand
He visits a red planet
with rusty fingers
he parts the curtain
and from the corner of his eye
he spots a black cat
that crosses his path
He enters and sees
created by a Master Story Teller
and she
so creatively beautiful
his soul has awakened
Ah, this is the place
where the airplane once flew
long ago in his childhood
in his mind
She provides him a path
and suddenly
the rust on his fingers
turn to beautiful shades of green and blue
his eyes become fixed
his soul is on fire
burning it’s way
through years of ice
He watches every move
of her lips
as the words cut through chains
images flash
his eyes, they are open
his soul stimulated
by her imagination
no, her being
creativity of her soul
Seeing her images
has allowed him to be free
to be that before his world
was suppresed
Now he can scream
with colors uncontrived
no judgements to bind him
The beauty of another’s freedom
the creativity
of one black cat
that crossed his path
as she handed him
the key
that had layed before him
and thought not to pick up
Once again the dream is alive
taken off the shelf
he can dance
while he paints
and when others do not understand
and ask him what has happened
he will look at them
with a smile
and say
“go ask Alice”

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