mask

Behind the Masks

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I see you walk in the world,
but your life is a closed facade.
I see the face you wear,
the same one you wear every day.

Expressions sometimes change.
It’s basically all the same.
I hear your conversations,
polite and carefully restrained,
and the poses you’ve adopted
and the way you think you are.
We’ve all been conditioned that way.

So for god sake put on a mask,
a mask of your own creation.
Yes, wear that one.
Let your hair down.
Log into virtual reality
if that’s what it takes to be free.

Behind that mask you can hide.
It’s the way to express yourself.
I’ll never be your judge.
You can be that hidden creature
you truly want to be.
Become your avatar.

Your dream ambitions
will show your secret essence
and then, for better or worse,
we’ll know who you truly are
and,
at last,
you will know your self.

masked by a smile

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

a dark cloud that blots out a sunset
a dead leaf that floats in the gutter
a discordant note in a chord
a door that groans on its hinges
a name I forgot in a dream
a bird that falls from its nest
a paper bag blown on the wind
a sticky mess, squashed on the floor
a face masked by a smile
a tree that fell in the storm
a fly i swatted away
a flurry of words that drown on a page
a cypher, a dot, stopped on the spot
a negative metaphor
all that i am
today
yesterday
whenever
has vanished away
as before

Escaping Tyranny

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

the cat always vanished as the man approached
hiding in the shadows as quiet as a mouse

the house fell silent, the walls became all ears,
leaning, straining forward, the better they may hear

the fear of his footsteps, coming closer now
i stayed very still, my expression was a mask

my thoughts were my own, untouchable, my home
a cat will vanish, i could only wait

confronted by this hatred
i  escaped,
i had learned to levitate

masked by towels

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

 

she neatly folds

the his and hers towels,

a wedding gift

embroidered with flowers,

hung

in the steam of the shower,

steam that obscures the mirror,

dripping with infidelities

no washing will ever erase

 

presenting a mask to their guests,

but most of all

to themselves

 

 

Undefeated

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

All windows locked, no door, no sanctuary,
no hopes, no kindness, all dreams your nightmares
in this world, of your creation, only you
spreading your despair

Locking loveliness away with bitter hate,
dread fate, you hover over me, a demon.
Is this the best that you can find to hurt me?
I have my own mask

Masked and silent, with my stomach clenched in fear
I fly a million miles away, never near.
You shut me in a darkened room, I vanish
I wear my own wings

You cannot reach inside my mind, never will.
There is a light you can’t extinguish. It burns,
buried under night, it glimmers softly still.
I have my own light

You mistook me long for one who cannot see.
I know you, I see you struggling in your hell.
I cannot help you, break the spell or reach you.
I can’t set you free

I will go from here one day. I’ll forget you.
You’ll remember how I tried to bring you light.
No doubt you’ll see that as a greater torment.
I won’t be haunted

When I escape, the sun will shine the brighter
in a world that’s new to me, reborn from dark,
clearer, stronger, its definitions sharper.
This is not defeat.