Calliope
has spied in me
a hollow dark and cold.
She gives it free,
that panoply
of new ideas bold.
But as of late
that dinner plate
of musings has been bare.
Could it be
Calliope
Has little left to spare?
© Jason Comeaux 4/12/2019
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC
Depression digs its daggers deep in me.
I have a feeling this one will be long.
A feigned farewell to feeling fine and free,
To standing straight and seeming slightly strong.
In come the weeks of weariness and ****
To sinking back into my younger mind.
Retreat reluctantly into the reeds.
If anybody asks, tell them I'm fine.
Methodically mending my mind with meds,
Therapy thoroughly digs out the rot.
But I can't help but to miss my own head.
Toxic as hell, but it is what I've got.
Sometimes I want to end the pain tonight,
but I'll hold off in case tomorrow's bright.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
Too much time asleep,
and thoughts begin to creep,
back into my mind,
for the thousandth time.
The fears and the regrets,
and the lessons I forget.
Time and time again,
I turn away from friends.
I don't aim to isolate,
but suddenly it's too late.
This is where it always peaks.
See you in several weeks,
...or longer.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
This unrelenting vernal snow,
implies upon my frigid soul,
an origin infernal, So
I struggle now to keep it whole.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
listening to the news
one really gets the blues
in all their great meetings
after cordial greetings
world leaders disagree
for one reason or other
seems they don’t really bother
‘bout what should be their goals
not to save their own souls
but the folks in our world
the children all curled
with pain in their belly
civilians burned dead
with gasoline jelly
the women attacked for
(a lack of) their clothing
as if there were nothing
more important than keeping
some men from their peeping
but what really matters
are the people in tatters
who flee from bombed homes
in despair and have come
to realize
that their possible demise
does not affect those
who’d rather smell a rose
than seriously bother
about the fate of an other
tragedy unfolds every day
yet it holds little sway
in the news of the powers
that makes sure that ours
is different from theirs
until that dream sours
we need to write some
more encouraging verse
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 9:58 AM UTC
Come on friend.
Let's take a vacation at home.
Unleash our minds
And follow where they want to roam.
Hold out your hand.
Here is the key,
A funny little fungus
Called psilocybe.
What a beautiful world.
Was this here the whole time?
Something sacred and old
Hidden deep in the mind?
There's patterns on the ceiling and the walls have started swaying.
A purple haze is forming but old Jimi isn't playin.
Now hands are reaching down from that vibrant purple mist.
They want me to go with them
And now fear replaces bliss.
I stand up and I pace around.
Get it together man.
It's all imagination.
Are you really scared of hands?
Just sit down and relax a bit
And let the show unfold.
The music sounds amazing and there's beauty to behold.
Hey man do you feel that presence that is in the room?
Someone else is here now but I don't know where or who.
It's a woman and a mother.
That much seems very clear.
She's been with us the whole time.
I can't see her but she's near.
I don't know what you mean man.
I don't get that sense at all.
All I see are patterns and the breathing of the walls.
Remember the boy you were and the man you wanted to be.
He's still inside you son and only you can set him free.
© Jason Comeaux (6/20/17)
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
From purple mist your arms reach out for me.
I am a newborn in your cosmic womb.
Now we are streams of light and energy.
We watch the ancients build their mighty tombs.
When did what has no ending first begin?
A ceaseless chain of growth, collapse, rebirth.
A seed forever sown and sown again,
Will never grip its roots into the earth.
Show me the ways that I have gone astray,
And guide me with your wisdom burning bright.
When time has passed and life feels dull and grey,
Help me to find that lost and holy light.
Take care, my son, your destination nears.
Good luck explaining this one to your peers.
© Jason Comeaux (6/19/17)
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC