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

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.

This unrelenting vernal snow,
implies upon my frigid soul,
an origin infernal, So
I struggle now to keep it whole.

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

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)