Jeff Rushton Poems

The jet departs from the hanger of hustle and bustle, trend.
The ascent is upward but the force backward, like running in to hurricane winds.
Propulsion begins, as does pressurization to drums within.
Sublimation, during the cruise at speeds long unfathomed.
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The shaded dream, window opening to a ream of concrete scene
Vision through blurred screen, a free pass to a play, long since closed, condemned, Dead
Sound and words of foreign cacophony, rhetoric of an unknown continent
Conversation without contemplation valuation, words of wisdom for excretion
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Fear, trepidation, bewildered by expectation
Traveling through your home in darkness,
Worries of the table, chair and your shins painful echo
Anticipation of an unknown score, perfection, rejection, nothing more
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Where do you turn when all road maps are burned?
What do you do when the vision is blurred or esque?
What direction do you follow when your transportation is swallowed
The path is clear
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You can talk, listen and read everything about someone
Until you see their reactions to daily challenges and successes
You never know the person until you know their frustration and elation.
You never know the person without seeing them serve without condition.
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Dawn doth bear the burden and joy of every generation
Rising in brightness and glory, dispelling all darkness and gloom
Hiding behind the clouds waiting for the moment to burn away all doubt
Closer it seems than at any other time during its season
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The journey for one is the pace for another
The strength for one is the leverage for another
The beauty for one is the boredom of another
The magnificent for one is the slight for another
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In a crowd of friends, being loud
Around people that are on my level of social shroud
Under the influence of something to which I have become a slave
Alone in a world where there are varying degrees of fame
...