Teleport
By Trevor Phillips
Strolling through the prison yard.
And he closes his eyes.
Letting the luminous sun star
Wash over his restless face.
Every breath he intakes
Moves him further from this place.
The scent of wind gusts
Reminds him of indigenous lakes,
Jumping off docks,
Or cliff high rocks,
Suspended in air
For lengths of time
Seemingly impossible.
Getting lost in this hell
Might not seem plausible
But to expand the mind
You’ll have to hurdle
Some obscene obstacles.
In the darkness
Behind his eyelids
All dreams are possible.
State of Dreams
By Trevor Phillips
What sneaks in the room at night
But the last hour’s moonlight,
Aiming to soothe
With its creamy blue dew.
Whispers of serenade
Internally played
Dispersing through the static body
Quite like a plague
The pure proclivity
Of neural activity
Takes the psyche to a realm
Imploring affinity.
Trevor Phillips
11/25/24Justice
Justice’s blind eye
Puts her finger on the scale.
The mass storage of
Human flesh and bones
It’s far too lucrative
To play fair.
Never mind, the soaked pillows
And cries, left by
The fatherless child
With puffy eyes,
Feeling immense emptiness inside.
Here, they hand our sentences
Like prescriptions,
And wonder why convicts
And addiction
Go hand in hand
Causing such affliction.
Summer Nights
By Trevor Phillips
Pink and purple skies glide
Quaintly over the horizon
Right before fruit bats explore
For their nightly adventure.
There’s a ten minute window
When the wilderness goes mute.
This is peak perfection
In the constant blessing of summer nights.
The day’s rays evaporate
From the landscape,
Massaging the crisp air
With waves tentacles,
Then darkness falls, giving call to the frogs and all
To sing to the stars
Evermore exponentially
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