The greatest smile is DEATH.
How welcomed. The eternal embrace!
But how i belong here — beyond the
world’s end _ no longer human.
i embrace ~ with the broken!
:: 01.31.2024 ::
Tag Archives: #love
THE ICE OF COLD BLUE DEATH
(i went to the doctor,
… told him i was dead.)
In chambers of white, where shadows dance,
A soul approached, a spectral trance.
The doctor sat with wisdom’s stare,
Inquiring of the ailment rare.
“I come to you with heavy heart,
For life has played a cruel part.
In death’s embrace, my essence lies,
Yet here I stand before your eyes.”
The doctor, wise in healing’s art,
Raised an eyebrow, not to depart.
“A paradox, this tale you weave,
For life and death in one can’t cleave.”
The patient, with a hollow gaze,
Recounted tales of ghostly days.
“Within my veins, no pulse does beat,
Yet consciousness and self, replete.”
The doctor pondered, deep in thought,
A riddle spun, a truth unsought.
“How, then, converse we, spirit kind?
For speech requires a living mind.”
The ghostly figure raised a hand,
A spectral gesture, quite unplanned.
“Though breath may cease, my voice persists,
A wraith with tales, a soul that insists.”
The doctor sighed, his mind perplexed,
Engaged in dialogue complex.
“Tell me, then, what led to this,
A life entwined in realms amiss?”
The phantom spoke, with echoes cold,
Of destinies and stories told.
“Life’s thread unraveled, fate unspun,
In twilight’s grasp, my course was done.”
The doctor, with a measured gaze,
Considered life’s mysterious maze.
“Are you a specter, lost in gloom,
Or just a soul in living’s tomb?”
The patient, spectral and forlorn,
Revealed a truth, in shadows worn.
“I dwell betwixt both realms unseen,
A ghostly vessel, caught between.”
The doctor mused, with furrowed brow,
On realms where mortal meets the now.
In dialogue profound, they tread,
A living doctor, with the dead.
A tale of life and death entwined,
In chambers white, a dance defined.
A poet laureate’s verses soar,
On whispers of a ghostly lore.
01.30.2024
POETIC ODYSSEY
Upon the inside of my dreams
There was no wind when i took
the watch across the seas
& when the ocean withdrew breath
and waves white-capped
i saw clouds of glass
within amora my heart said
‘roll over, roll over.’
how i had awaited restlessly
Upon the opal glass finally
talking sweet /within my ear,
the sound so strange, ‘mistral,
mistral…’ \
winds_____close your eyes again
my gentle breathing giant.
:: 01.29.2024 ::
CALL ME BROKEN
Oh, speak not of my heart untrue,
Though absence seeks to temper my desire,
As readily I could bid myself adieu
As part from the soul within your fire.
In your bosom lies my dwelling of love:
If I’ve strayed, like threads unraveled, I return,
To the moment, not with time exchanged above,
Yet with my essence, a cleansing urn.
Never think, though frailties course my veins,
That they could mar this sacred trust we share,
To forsake, for naught, your myriad gains,
For you, my rose, my universe is bare.
Within its vast expanse, hear my call,
For nothing exists, save you, my all.
:: 01.26.2024 ::
THE CANVAS OF TIME
THE SKIN is prominent
within all of Life
Whose dippy hands cross rhyme
within a strange water
called Time
/ as we are all /
nothing / and memories that flow___
In the tapestry of moments, we weave
Threads of laughter and tears, perceive
The dance of shadows in the mind
A kaleidoscope of memories we find
Yet, within this vast expanse of recall
Fragments of existence, both big and small
Nothing but echoes in the grand design
Whispers of a fleeting, ephemeral sign
The hands of Time dip in the waters deep
Creating ripples where memories sleep
An intricate dance of joy and strife
Etched upon the canvas of Life
And as we navigate this transient sea
Our skin, a vessel of identity
In the tapestry, we play our part
A symphony of the soul, a work of art.
:: 01.23.2024 ::
MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES
MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES
and which came first?
syllable or the sound
of pain?
what…did you say?
they ARE the same
whether uttered or
spoken or eventually
written — all the same!
must a glyph truly obtain
a sense of distinction?
it is now its own.
:: 07.14.2020 ::
Notes for the Students:
THIS POEM explores the interconnectedness of language, sound, and emotion. The poet contemplates the origin of words and the relationship between syllables and the expression of pain. The question of which came first, the syllable or the sound of pain, reflects on the primal and innate nature of language as a means of conveying human experience.
The repetition of the phrase “they ARE the same” emphasizes the unity of spoken and written language, suggesting that the essence of expression remains constant across different forms. The poem questions the necessity for a glyph (a written symbol) to have a distinct meaning, implying that language evolves organically and may not always follow rigid rules.
The final lines, “it is now its own,” suggest a sense of independence and self-contained identity for language. This could be interpreted as an acknowledgment of the power of language to shape its own meaning and significance over time.
Overall, the poem invites readers to reflect on the mysterious and evolving nature of language, emphasizing its ability to capture and convey complex emotions and experiences.
TRANSPARENT SOCIETY
Upon the vast expanse of blank parchment,
Unspoiled slabs of molding clay,
They lay unfolded before me,
As her earthly form once did sway.
The quintet of horizons,
Whirled in orbit around her soul,
As the globe revolves in homage,
To the radiant, golden sun’s control.
Yet the air I once inhaled,
Now has veered a different course,
And all that I bestowed upon her,
Contained the essence of my life’s discourse.
Oh, what wisdom I imparted,
She adorned as her attire,
Yet now my hands, embittered,
Rub against the clouds entire.
In the realm of what was everything,
Beneath the shadows, my hands do strive,
And the images once vivid,
Now drenched in hues of somber black arrive.
A stroll amidst the world outside,
Enveloped by the sounds of children’s play,
Their laughter echoes in the air,
Yet my soul bears a searing dismay.
Twisted thoughts, they dance and twirl,
A carousel within my mind,
I’m spinning, spinning ceaselessly,
As the sun sinks, leaving me behind.
Now my hands, they gently cradle,
Fragments of shattered glass,
Of what was once my universe,
Now diminished, a fading mass.
The images, once vibrant,
Now painted in the darkest ink,
A tapestry of love gone awry,
Turned my world to shades of black, I think.
All that was, has now departed,
A canvas tattooed with despair,
Every glimpse, every aspect,
Marked with the echoes of a love that’s rare.
In the tapestry of time,
A future where you’ll shine,
A celestial being in another’s sky,
But why, oh why, can’t that sky be mine?
[“The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.” – Ezra Pound]
PAUL MCCARTNEY AND BRIAN WILSON
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 ::
ODE ON A GRECIAN URN
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.
HEAVEY IS THE INTESTELLAR
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 ______ .
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