Distant Earths

i could hide
for a hundred
thousand years

and still emerge
with the same spectrum
of debilitating fears

avoidance does nothing
to avail our evolution

for the breadth of our experience
carries on in our dearth

and distant earths
may yet reveal
our present form unknown

nonetheless

a consciousness
cannot eclipse
its own immortality
for all eternity

and yet . . .

[image credit: Fumihiro Kato]

Apropos Creation?

sometimes in life
it’s all you can do
not to hang from the end
of a dangling noose
when ideals falter
from altered epiphanies
self-imposed litanies
taunt us as truth

reasons unclear
hearken feelings concise
as we slowly succumb
to scopolamine nights
on a hollow dimensional plane
of feigned platitudes
sorrowful vice
desperate pleas seeking quietude

labeled as sacrilege
should we repair
to undo the heedless act
of summoning us here
where an iron fist reigns
with such ironic scrutiny
e’er you should mention
proactive acuity

still, none dare question
’til quietus calls
of that which our parents
paid no mind at all
the stigma, long-standing
insists these facades
are gifts that cannot be revoked
but by god

how oddly beholden
to cognitive bias
that we forgo logic
and deign ourselves pious
to then misappropriate
most hypocritically
fate in itself
with such flagrant defiance

if only our efforts
were aimed toward reality
instead, we sacrifice all
for mere fantasy
lacking the merit
to make the distinction
between fact and metaphorical depiction

we must make the choice
to adhere to a mindset
consisting of ethics
not pandered by pretense
for should we persist
to exist with such dissonance
life itself will soon submit
to obsolescence

[image credit: Louis Wain]

In Truth

in truth

i am nothing

if not
for this
suffering

fleshed
of sighs

in nuanced
rebuttal

abjection
from sanity

lost

spectrums span
ceaselessly

i dare be sworn

to behold

the bane
of my dedition

Lost Expression

all that i desire to say
can be found lost in my expression
enshrouded by archaic airs
arbitrary to my intentions

are these conscious thoughts of truth
in conflict with my hidden layers
or is it pretense so aloof
driving rifts through solemn lair

this much i may never know
and such it is i must accept
that all i might forever show
should be not what my heart reflects

Universal Truth

The universe has once again flourished in my consciousness.  Knowledge of my own existence and that of the world around me becomes my reality.  There are many things, infinite things for which i feel fear and unknowing.  Life persists and time is imminent.  I am helpless to anything other than surrender to its insistence.

In spite of the anguished plight of each individual’s existence, i feel the warm energy of assurance and comfort radiate throughout my entire being.  An understanding that all that has been, all that will be, and all that is, shall be okay.

The singularity of time and truth looms above.  Not as a harbinger of sorrow but as the sun, infusing all with its golden beams of love.  Doting on each and every one of us with buzzing motes of life’s exquisite mystery.  Anything within and beyond our comprehension may take place at any given moment.

Just as we are here so shall we be gone.  As those that are gone are here, surrounding us with their love and granting us stay.  Their existence continues in all realms.  The love that permeates throughout the varied instances of our day speaks of this divine truth.

This understanding brings hope.  The love we all share brings hope.  Hope is the understanding that although we have no possible way of knowing what things may come, we refuse to let the fear of the unknown tarnish our weary hearts.  For we know that things will be okay.

Knowing that regardless of the surreality of reality and all things contained therein will happen as they will.  And this is okay.

Every moment we have ever experienced.  Every treasured memory   Every misplaced memento that wanders throughout our subconscious as the fuel that feeds the fire of our dreams.  Every brief moment of perfect happiness that so fleetingly dashed across our life’s landscape.  Every first beholding of love that was previously unknown to our conscious minds.  All of these exist in this very moment.

When we gaze upon the open sky of umbrage we are overcome with a sense of wonder and awe.  As we glance upon the very particles that compose our own existence in physical and ethereal form.  The true essence of everything in every temporal tense of existence.

That truth is love.

 

 

 

[image credit: Chesley Bonestell]

Perilous Sky

my truth existed
somewhere
in her opaline eyes

a timeless visage

dangling moonbeams
from the edge of oblivion

muted by the dismal
desert sky

silently
she drove an erubescent arrow
through the sorrowed vales
of a wailing echo

which impaled my imperfect heart

i followed her flicker

’til the trail
led me to an apparition

which dissolved
into a parasol
sprawling with mesolite

then she vanished
into the night

[image credit: Kay Nielsen]

Subconscious Calamity

christians are coming to coddle your kittens
with puddles of prattle not subtle but maddened
it’s radical to be crepuscular bustling britches
of rustic vernacular vibrantly verdant
in volant tribunals attributable tunes of a triumphant
visual sadly convulsing combative collusion
as clear as a warm summer day in the attic
of possible dreams drenched in leather lotharios
lithely maneuvering ubermensch avenues
ever evincing the principle paramour
pandering products intended for troubadours
mending their troubles in bubble text laterals
flattering baberaham lincoln with attaboy
linking up lankershim lost in the valley
of spent evolution devolving erratically
severed endeavors of laughter erroneous
phony evangelists dialed on disaster
in spastic capacities spooning the man on the moon
most mendaciously ponce de lunacy what i just did there
is no time for sentiments soon we will all be returning
to sediment lend me your earphones i’ll listen
to artifice smartphones and stupid humanity
hailing the vapid evocative evil salvation
absolving to imbecilic plastic munitions
drastic in form as the new norm soon supersedes
what was once named reseda and the pleiades
soporific precedents poised to intercede
somnolescent comments culled from epiphanies
septic or epic it’s difficult to decide
hiding in harems devising a matricide
armed with a fist of fastidious folderal
calling all cataclysmic mystic masters fall
into abysmal miocene themed myopics
mastications lost in listless scene’s reverie
roving through needles of threaded complacency
boldly implying the impetus for our means
median modes start eroding erratically
seraphim hymns sodomizing with nascent speed
spurring sporadic combustible catalysts
paradigms prodding elusion emphatically
safe from the phallic delusions of malcontents
hell-bent on plentiful ploys of ecstatic sin
limp as a sunday morning on a pink flag
exorbitantly dressed in drag and then storming
in on monty pythonic pliable placators
practicing sparring with swords of scorn swelling
in hordes so hellaciously formed like a stream
of striations intrinsically born to be
all they can beat on the bratwurst next door
to the exodus exiting earth evermore swore the end of this

Luminary In Her Dearth

adrift
amid the vapid bedlam

palliation sought
eluding

stinging mistral
stretching onward

unseen
through the looking glass

left
to bare futility

lorn
where languid life doth linger

mistress lost

the first
the last

as she alone
compelled the stars

to loom anew
the constellations

lucid whispers
shaped her lips

like lucent kisses
illustrating

dormant creed
of freedom’s virtue

solitary
heart-sworn wisdom

salvaged from a wonted way

of this frail earth
where only fools
and martyrs
of demented mind

stand to find
a disposition
sound of spirit

. . . listen –

for her’s is a legacy
of love

luminary
in her dearth

and presence
redefined

 

 

[image credit: Vittorio Zecchin]

Petaluna Linger

awash
in coils of amber
umber

and slumber
as autumn awakens

a solemn breeze
seizes
lofty trees
in lucent columns

a gauntlet
of ambient umbra

born the republic
of czechoslovakia

briefly
a voice could be heard:
“call me ishmael”

forces of intrigue
colluded in union

to bring forth
a most inconsequential
kismet

through mistral moons
into mellow mons

from stumbled startings
to fallen ends

asterina anomala

sweetness
of a serene dawn

plush fur of eternal purr
fills my pillow
ever brimming

buffering
this astral seraphic
kitten cabal

[image credit: Ivan Bilibin]

Eve of No Tomorrow

lay your thoughts
upon my pillow

willows whisper
winds serene

tales unfold
composed of kisses

lost in silent reverie

this night beckons
ever urgent

argent skies
immersed in light

as the stars
succumb to ruin

tranquil drops
well in your eyes

[image credit: Kay Nielsen]