He loved to walk the bank,
within gray dawn.
All the lake’s waking
riding on the morning mist.
Suggesting.
All his stories,
a lifetime to collect.
No one else could know.
Surely he was on to
something he could show.
He’d always found,
an ease, a release
drifting within the fog.
A place where ideas
could break free.
:: 01.22.2024 ::
I asked God and He spoke |
how should you ever:
“Psychosis is a natural response to being unable to solve problems, Casey.”
“How d’ya mean?”
“In childhood we are more creative, that part of our brain that dreams at night has more access to our daytime thinking and we can dream up the most wonderful fantasies, live them in a sort of way. It’s what small children do all the time.”
“Go on.”
“But for the most part we fail to continue using our imaginations, or rather, it gets ‘educated’ out of us. The brain connections between the subconscious and the conscious minds weaken, like when anything is unused.
God only knows what I’d be without you
If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me — how God knows
I am without you.
:: 01.21.2024 ::
In F major’s gentle embrace, a tale unfolds, Beethoven’s gift, a story with grace, it molds. Strings whisper softly, in tender embrace, A symphony of feelings, in a timeless space.
Notes pirouette like a dance on air, Love’s whispers woven with utmost care. Fingers calloused, worn, caress the keys, Revealing a world where heartache flees.
Majestic phrases, a plea sincere, A canvas painted with melodies dear. Orchestral whispers beneath the moon’s soft light, Beethoven’s Romance, a celestial flight.
In F major key, passion takes flight, A serenade of joy, an ode to the night. Eternal echoes in each heartfelt note, Beethoven’s Romance, a melody afloat.
Let this humble boy’s pen convey, The beauty of Beethoven’s masterpiece today. With a heart sincere, and dreams so vast, A song unfolds, from a pen so steadfast.
I look at the sun — in my dreams
i am a TRAVELING gentleman
into the deep sees
: \ ;/
If by some some years you heard
it was clear ooh — ooooh
Oooh — baby bebe bebe ooooh!
I saw your love (heart) i'[m crying
as i am substrate –= love and feeling
oooooh – love | A rose of love and red
leaves no trace — i will return : \
i touch KASMIRE | OH father,
dead. like our wife / my mother \ how
i learned your mistakes _.
\In the realm of the mind’s turmoil, the dance with mental illness,
the eccentricity that whispers of madness, may appear as a spectacle
when observed from afar, yet the mirth fades when experienced within.
Picture your most haunting nightmare, let it linger in your thoughts.
Now, envision a scenario where awakening is elusive, for you are already
ensconced in the wakefulness of the perpetual dream. Those fantastical notions
that weave coherence in the realm of slumber start to intertwine with waking reality.
I sense your curiosity, the yearning to decipher if my journey mirrors such a narrative.
However, my revelation shall remain veiled for now; forgive my reticence, as our acquaintance is but in its nascent stage.
Should apprehension whisper in the recesses of your mind, casting shadows
upon your countenance, there’s a subtle unease that graces your features.
Ah, I comprehend. You ponder whether my quest to “awaken” might incite a descent into madness,
a trepidation that precedes the revelation of truth. Well, let me assure you, for some,
that is the path untrodden, but not for those who find solace in my company. The journey to “awakening” need not be accompanied by the tumult of psychosis. Yet, I am transparent with you – the aftermath of a “nervous breakdown” renders the mind fragile, a state undesirable, I assure you. The labyrinth of thoughts can lead one astray, inflicting years of tumult from which recovery proves elusive. It can sever ties with those cherished, those held dear. I implore you to steer clear of such perils, especially you, with your endearing nature. I find you delightful, and in our journey together, certain guidelines must be etched, for I must discern when your presence graces our shared realm…
:: 01.21.2024 ::
In the stance, a malady of beauty unfolds,
And a government descends amidst weed-laden halls,
Flesh intertwines along the corridors of governance
The maidens partake of the morning feast,
Offering souls to a pale, skeletal simian,
Beneath the Winter sun’s embrace,
Caressing the tree within the dwelling. $$$$
A second debate ensues over such a pact.
The enigmatic artisan, veiled in anonymity and potential hostility,
Scouts with an obligation in his grasp,
A force integral, reliant on the essence ingested from…
The customary process unfolds,
Viruses delineated across the canvas of Time.
Ours to decipher, to comprehend THAT????
Where do HER feet tread?
In the morning light,
The thunderous echoes resonate,
As she peruses the front page” ” ” ”
Stars ablaze in the cosmic expanse,
Yet She delves beyond the lines of stories. . . .
They possess the ability
To seize control,
Viruses &&& they become one.
The Scientists,
Formed in the stance. . .
Traits that ride,
Many in number. . .
Thoroughly equipped,
Navigating the streets,
A few days pass:::
:: 01.19.2024 ::
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE boy
i knew no wisdom
i knew no hate
i knew no lies
WHEN I GREW UP
i understood history
i understood love
i understood truth
NOW AS I AM DYING
i know a lot will change
i know the world will be busy
i know my appointments are unanswered
POST-LIVE REVELATION
How so many live for the sake of beauty
How so many quietly die for martyrdom
How so many understand Ode on a Grecian Urn
:: 01.17.2024 ::
Poet’s Notes:
This poem, titled “LIFE AS A BEAUTIFUL SOUL,” explores the journey of life from childhood innocence to mature understanding and reflection on the complexities of existence. The structure of the poem is divided into three distinct phases: childhood, adulthood, and the contemplation of mortality.
In the first stanza, the speaker reminisces about their childhood, portraying a time of innocence and purity. The use of lowercase letters and short, straightforward lines reflects the simplicity of a child’s perspective. The absence of wisdom, hate, and lies in this stage suggests a state of blissful ignorance.
The second stanza marks the transition to adulthood, where the speaker claims to have gained a deeper understanding of history, love, and truth. This indicates the inevitable acquisition of knowledge and experience as one grows older. The use of “understood” implies a level of comprehension and awareness that comes with maturity.
The third stanza takes a poignant turn as the speaker reflects on the imminent end of life. The awareness of impending change, the busy world, and unanswered appointments conveys a sense of urgency and the fleeting nature of time. The speaker’s acknowledgment of these impending changes adds a layer of reflection on the transience of life.
The final stanza, titled “POST-LIVE REVELATION,” delves into broader themes. It contemplates how many people live for the sake of beauty, suggesting the pursuit of aesthetic experiences and appreciation. The mention of quietly dying for martyrdom adds a somber note, hinting at sacrifice and devotion. The reference to “Ode on a Grecian Urn” by John Keats suggests a connection to art, beauty, and the timeless nature of artistic expression.
Overall, the poem encapsulates the universal journey of life, from innocence to wisdom, with a contemplative gaze upon mortality and broader reflections on beauty, sacrifice, and the enduring impact of art. The use of concise and straightforward language contributes to the poem’s accessibility and emotional resonance.
My baby
be okay
and love
and love
give to us
Just give
to US
My love
speak now
every day
is alive
and i drift
off to your world
I am rumbling
i am the love heart
that no one can see!
Im waiting for you.
they don’t know fuckery
and fuckery is dead —
heavy is the heart
Into the deepest Stars
that most do not know |
Heavy is the Astronauts
Exploring the Interstellar
World where we invisited
once before ______ .
i am a traveler
across the earth’s face
and i travel alone.
I have no world
just this sun
it beats down upon me.
He! who has seen everything,
I will make known! to the lands.
I will! teach about him who
experienced all things,
…alike,
He carved on a stone
stela all of his toils,
and built the wall of Uruk-Haven,
\
the wall of the sacred Eanna Temple, the holy sanctuary.
Look at its wall which gleams like!copper(?),
inspect its inner wall, the likes of which no one can equal
Seall!air!a!balla!a!deàrrsadh!mar!copar(?),
sgrùdadh!am!balla!a-staigh,!na!likes!nach!urrainn!
Gabh!gabh!cinn-latha!stairsneach!stoneOOit!bho!t-seann!am!
Rach!faisg!don!Temple!Eanna!,!àite-còmhnaidh!Ishtar,!
leithid!mar!chan eil!rìgh!no!duine!a-riamh!co-ionann!
Rach!suas!air!balla!Uruk!agus!coisich!mun cuairt,
sgrùdadh!a!bhun-stèidh,!sgrùdadh!a!obair-brice!
Nach!nach!(eadhon!am!cridhe!)!an!structar!bhrèige!dèante!de!àth!brige!
nach
Aon!mòr-lìog!baile-mòr,!aon!lìog!gàrraidhean!palm,!aon!lìog!ghalltachd,!an!sgìre!fosgailte(?)!de!
an!Ishtar!teampall,
trì!lìogaidean!agus!an!sgìre!fosgailte(?)!de!Uruk!it!(am!balla)!cuartachadh.
Lorg!am!bogsa!copair!clàr!,
fosgail!a!…!a!ghlas!de!umha,!
cuir às!luathachadh!a!fhosgladh!dhìomhair!
Gabh!agus!leugh!a-mach!bho!chlàr!lapis!lazuli!
: 01.05.2024 ::
Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.
For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.
For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.
In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.
As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*
*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!
:: 12.25.2023 ::
Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.
For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.
For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.
In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.
As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*
*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!
:: 12.25.2023 ::
In chambers dim, where shadows weave,
My mirrored self I dare perceive.
Pink roses bloom, a painted guise,
While feathered thoughts take silent flight.
My tongue, a tempest, words like wind,
To whirl and toss the soul within.
To swim in depths where echoes call,
Unfettered feet on marble sprawl.
A mermaid’s sigh, a whispered plea,
To breathe, to see, eternally.
The headlights dim, the vision nears,
Of hands outstretched, assuaging fears.
Less, I craved, from twilight’s hold,
Than waters mingled, stories told.
One night, a tapestry complete,
A whisper spun in slumber’s sheet.
But eyes unflinching, hearts unknown,
No answering pulse to claim my own.
The mirrored pond, a frozen scene,
Reflects the moon, where women convene.
Men, enigmas cloaked in night,
Like roots that twist in hidden light.
The house once shared, a severed stem,
From continents of black and white condemn.
Unmoored, we drift, in yearning’s thrall,
Then scatter, like lashes in the fall.
My own, like pollen, ether frail,
Revealing truth, a single veil.
Yet, codex locked, a name takes flight,
A searing brand, defying blight.
Life, a quick waltz with disdained breath,
The moon a mirror, mocking death.
Before the wind, before the end,
A voice of dreams, where shadows bend.
The garden slumbers, beasts unfed,
Its lights extinguished, hopes unshed.
His women, ghosts in sterile white,
No feast of senses, pure of light.
Within this introspection’s well,
A teardrop falls, the story’s spell.
Unspoken words, like embers cold,
In mirrored fragments, hearts unfold.
So let me dwell in this retreat,
Where Dickinson’s whispers softly meet.
With introspective gaze, I trace,
The paths of yearning, etched in space.
:: 12.22.2023 ::
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