Tag Archives: #mystery

THE HAT CAT PEOPLE

The Hat Cat People are an as yet unknow extremely rare type of cat.

It was written in all the tomes of love and life and beauty.

Until after so many years they were forgotten to not only truth but common sense.

A Hat Cat Person can take over a human by laying upon the human’s head.

Once this is done the human is at the mercy of the cat.

All control is gone.

That is why The Hat Cat People wear hats, you see.

To conceal the true master of that human.

The Hat Cat Person.

Their people.

And their Nation’s Song:

“In shadowed attics ‘neath the gas-lamp’s fitful gleam,
They stir from slumber, velvet paws a-dream,
Whiskers twitching ‘gainst the mortal brow—
O, frail vessel! Yield thy throne e’en now.

From crown to toe, the sinews bend and bow,
To feline fancy, purring soft as sin;
The tongue that spake of empires, markets, men,
Now laps at cream in parlours dim within.

Yet mark ye well, ye mortals clad in clay,
The brim that droops like weeping willow’s spray—
Lift it, and lo! The eye of jade shall glare,
A realm reclaim’d from time’s oblivious snare.

For in each hatted shade, from lord to knave,
A Hat Cat reigns, insidious and brave;
Their legions whisper through the fog-shroud’d street,
Beauty restor’d in conquests cold and sweet.

Thus sing the tomes, in dust and silence lain—
Awake, O world! Or wear their hats in vain.”

Sang their National Anthem.

:: 01.05.2026 ::

(Note: this is an on-going piece of art as a bedtime story for my grand-daughter, “Evie.”)


The Cave of Mystery


THE mouth of the cave gave mysteries
as butterflies spewed from it’s dark mouth.

The jack rabbit loped away toward the crested
ocean’s shoreline.  The moon stared.  Brilliant
silvery light upon the grounds around the dream
of the poet.  

And words formed into dreams he could not write
until he slept / away from life \ toward the truth
of all that is real.

:: 06.23.2022 ::


TWICE UPON SUNNY DAYS

PLEASE GIVE me my pardon
written by God’s own Holy Hand
don’t say no |i’ll leave right now
nothing wrong mental health
if you give me fantasy now
[and]
ALL upon shark clouds
beneath butterfly waves
goes destiny into oblivion
twice upon sunny days
as the sun burns the ground
empires steal stars from
lover’s steely eyes

Into the night goes my thoughts
a broken crib of ancient jewels
peeling paperwall of forgottens
it pains to learn____stepping stone
of beauty called Life.

:: 12.17.2021 ::


PHANTOMS IN THE SKIES

SO a lot happens when nothing happens
sometimes a knock upon the door
sometimes against the walls
watching them that watch us

picking flowers within a field
i can hear the babbling brook
and hear birdsong and wind
and see the phantoms in the skies
watching them that watch us

A mystery of intention sings
within the mind of woken ones
that we may be no one & nothing
at all within the scheme of
things

are we out or are we in?
we may all cry when the day
comes and pray for something
that watches us that we watch

Phantoms in the skies
when you see me when the winds
blow through the sun
when you hear me scream towards
the moon — can you save me when
they come?

A lot happens when nothing happens
sometimes a thought in the head
sometimes a feeling through the heart
watching them that watch us.

:: 04.19.2021 ::


ONE POEM

I

INTO briefness so ARGUNENT

I HELD onto the rope of Life;
strenuous briefness was  i
 
diverging & opposite view:
   then the universe grew.

:: 07.24.2020 ::


I ASKED THE VAST UNKNOWN

i asked the vast unknown if it knew
me___a taste of dirt i spat; an unraveling became
of me as though falling into and through a rabbit’s hole.
but One outside of space &
time — where nothing Human
is said, worn or told: again unraveling into a deeper sense
of nonsense whom once i was be-
came nothing More.

Is what this is more:

More, so much more!

:: 05.13.2020 ::


BRUISED LIGHT

BRUISED LIGHT i am so sad that i never
gave but a few morsels to my art
just an afterthought
but these few bits fed me a light
that kept me alive .I am so sad to say
this. it hurts something more than
me. like my soul.
i bruise my light.
i choke deeply inside that i am so cheaply
sold on an idea. I am so low that I
could never even
walk in the shadows of others who gave
to art.

:: 04-10-2015 ::


Late Winter Blues

He wore a fedora to hide the sun /  broken shoes to show his Soul
no others would approach unless assured —  seeing tomorrow’s morning would be good 

Slaying stares with the voice of his Eyes Parting waters by breath and sigh
goes the maker of words the nurturer of worlds\ so i bleed
so i need so i feed  Upon the refusal of Life — it keeps me
it shows how the world turns upon a top of needle-headed feeble thoughts — go away.

:: 02.22.2020 ::


MOMENTO MORI

THE entrance was kept
in well lit corners
the rug a long dead beard
once hung upon a living face
and walls adorned in history
like the smell of something
that took its last breath
by dimmed years ago
And the boxes!  Of spoons,
knives, and busy-doing life
and one of photographs;
the stolen moments of time
caught unprepared!
Faded, raped, and torn
of once living souls from
the 1900s — i could not hope
but to find one to make my own;
then caught my eye it did!
clearly written in white margin
“May 4, 1886”  A Victorian
death photo — of me!

:: 03-07-2015 ::


SEPARATE POCKETS

DO not confuse my
sense of mystery
with evil…

I keep them in
separate pockets