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]

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]

Dissevering

 

never were worlds so condensed

 

crushing sounds of chaos crashing

 

the eve of shattered shells

shackled in rippling clamor

torn beyond arm’s length

 

bracing memories of bartered being

the aching void of absent panacea

 

toiling for passage

the sting of earned lament

 

forthwith abandoned

to stations conflicted by minds unsound

long trodden in tumult’s refrain

 

what burdens we carry in these chains we so cherish

fighting the sins born of heaven

hammering down upon hapless casts of dissevering clay

 

complexions so fragile

never straying from the vaulted eden of  sanity’s mind

 

ceaseless hordes

in planate procession

 

fools fraught with erstwhile fixation

betraying the worth of the words carved unyielding

 

through the infamy of torrid tempest

feigned in fluster

with haste, forgotten

 

but some flourish ephemeral

 

~querabus in acquiescence

nonpareil without parallel~

 

sweltering seamen scout the echoing seas

to plunder the gifts of god’s glory

 

treasures unknown

to inhabit our hearts

 

belying these stagnant disfigured illusions

 

should gentle grace ameliorate

and the rapids arrive at a quietus lull

 

-they say voices spout melodies stealing the wind-

 

and here,

this pen spreads jilted verse with piteous affectation

in shades of redundant avowal

 

this, the pilfer of poets and priests

only in the threads of ethereal thought, does truth reign

 

neither bound by scientific bane

nor beholden to  idle slight of ideal

 

the essence of knowledge sublime

 

that we find the one

and the other in spirit

when realms of spent flesh beckon nigh

 

we shall yet persist      –      in tether and thyme

 

the warmth of unspoken goodwill

stirs the ocean’s heart humble

like the fiery swells of our wounded earth’s rain

 

a feeling which none are to have known

ere we wander into the borealis of the soul’s aura

 

wading into the florid confluence

to taper off in eased undulation

neath the umbral sway of a burgeoning berth

[image credit: Tallmadge Doyle]

Our Condition

this dream that teems with emptiness
is one i know so well
for it permeates the essence
of existence

despite how it may seem
on the surface of this shell
reality looms ever
in the distance

the laughter that you hear
is the mirror reflecting tears
transmutated by a diligent subconscious

even when i smile
it’s to subjugate my fears
in a world where judgment rules
such fools as pontius

if i appear serene
it is only to belie
every tempest ever brimming
from within

the depth of this despair
has breached the realm beyond repair
and it’s all that i can bear
not to give in

the worst might never be
save to say this lonesome curse
will afflict the hearts of all
who dare exist

that we will never know
any truth by what is shown
the state of our condition
e’er persists

Not Even Death

and here we are
yet living
on this eve of lost idyll

i am no more able
to feel your touch
than sorrowed skies retreat

the passing hours
grow ever darker
my lair has turned to dust
unsettled

roaming on this plane
alone
in search of any senseless reason

the more i look
the more i find
my mind is but a distant ruin

littered with the consequence
of time’s relentless ire

as truths unravel
by its hands
extending far beyond
the grave

where now
not even death
can stand to save us

Profound Mechanism

what an oddly profound mechanism memory is
to be able to hear
the exact sound of someone’s voice
from years ago just by imagining it
to be able to vividly picture
a scene from a bygone era
whilst simultaneously looking
at the reality of the present moment
to summon the irreplicable symphony of flavors
rendezvousing upon the tongue
from a cherished dish
whose creator is no more
to behold the sweet scent
that once had found your senses
rapt in an erstwhile lover’s embrace
to revisit the feeling
of fleeting ideals
whence they fooled you into falling
for what you thought would be forever
foundations are ever shifting
in the light of newfound context
tragedy reshapes the stories
locked within our mind
knowing that the day will come
when all that we might stand to muster
swiftly turns to dust swept away
by a lonesome gust of wind
and this, the only truth
that we might ever trust in
it is for this very reason
we must live
within each moment
to foster our experience
as though it were untold
to leave a bold impression
that we one day might recall again
when all is lost as we retreat
into death shrouds of our own making

Worlds of Wonder

ceaselessly
caught between
two worlds of wonder

one of which
i revel
in a beauty
yet untold

watching it unfold
in muted ponder

another
so disheveled
that i shudder
to behold

ruthlessly
comprised
of pealing thunder

underneath
the undulation
lies a plundered soul

pandering
the plight
of its condition

haunted
by the light
ever lingering
on yonder

longing
for an answer
to it all

Solicitudes Become Us

with all that we may stand to gain
or lose
upon a single breath

prudence yet eludes
our voice of truth

flaunting our pathologies
solicitudes become us

highwaymen who strum
submissive hearts

creatures born of covetous
convinced by vaporous conviction

candy coated candor
with a cracker jack surprise

desiccated eyes
no longer fit
to hold this thin disguise

rolling to reveal a hollow head
where tears unshed yet hide

Eternal Mirrors

let the earthen bounty
be your pillow
as the balsam breeze
tucks you in its whispered lull

tonight
our frailty
is forgiven
heaven dare not fathom
to assail us
whence we lay

its offerings
are present
for the taking

as prismed apparitions
through shifting crypts of time

searching for the shadow
of forgiveness
where folding stars
outstare the eye of jupiter

death is but a fear unsound
thought traps within
the silent walls that bind us

stepping through
eternal mirrors
on journeys shared as one
‘neath these precious suns
of stoic tempest flare

Furtive Moons

there are only so many metaphors
that serve to justify this pain
so many words
chewed up
and spit back out
onto surfaces
whose purpose
carries all burdens

these feelings are like water
journeying alone
in a fearless freefall
crashing into the earth below
to join the fates
that all have known

still, each fragment
leaves its mark
for others to embark upon
in the hour
of our exodus to exile

the skies belong to one
as one to all
as life itself
bleeds into the eyes
at the horizon

we take our tragic pittance
wrought from anguish
each within the alchemy intrinsic
to their own

to spin the loom
and weave majestic tapestries
of triumph
to share the secrets
intimately held
by furtive moons