In the labyrinth inside my mind,
Sometimes my thoughts get lost.
I search down long dark tunnels
Where old memories are tossed
Like antiques in the attic, that
I can’t bear to throw away
Saved forever just in case
I need them again some day!

And as I age these memories
Show up at the strangest times
But there is no one there to talk to
So I turn them into rhymes
And hope some day that someone
Might discover them and see
That my poems are about my life
My poems are ‘bout me!

When age finally blocks the tunnel -
I no longer can break through
And I’m trapped inside with memories
And nothing left to do
But stare out through the window
Or at the closed front door,
Know I’m still inside the labyrinth
And I wish I’d written more!
Phil Lindsey 9/14/15

These are days of change.
Eggshell cracks,
Sun rising differently.

Sometimes I put my ear to
The ground and listen.
Heartbeat choirs of

Our unborn children.
Seeds of poets.
Write love; not war.

Seems we can unintentionally hurt the people that matter the most just by simply trying to enjoy life.

Confusion envelops my pleasures, what is Joy if not shared with someone cherished but yet to lie them under the knife?

The distance between us seems unconquerable as time trots backward and I agonize on shores clutching my chest where you once laid.

Irrational optimism assists my pain as the Aegean flows as a sea of regret from my eyes & I dive into my tears hoping to once again hold my mermaid.

[to the thousands of men, women and children fleeing their war-torn countries.]*

Adrift,
this huddle of fear
in the starless night.

Adrift,
this frieze-like
of carved anguish
surging in heavy
striped hearts.

Flimsy shores
draw an old world,
of other lords,
greedy of their pastures.

Plundered, ravaged,
preyed upon,
adrift
- who will see
our human face?

This is the only place that I'll feel safe,
Pace the floors of my beat up faith,
Stoke the fire, stoke the flames,
Remind me of why I feel ashamed,

You warn me that it’s most unwise,
To keep these scales upon my eyes,
Well Hades is calling out to me,
He says: “Take my hand Persephone”,

I lived to please, I swam to drown,
And take this all whilst lying down,
But then you cried: “Girl, come undone,
You're the earth, the moon, the sand and sun

In my mind rests so many words of repent, of remorse and regret that never went through.

Times where it's been just Me for you, & I wish I could've explained how terrorized I am by the idea of living with another someone to lose.

Traumatic memories can lead to irrational caution, repellant actions that seemingly can't be prevented or contained.

Flashes of past nightmares during my happiest days, guess the losses of my Dad, brother, and cousin led me to push away sunshine filled companionship for lonesome walks in the rain.

My impulsive actions are precaution of loss, can't allow another person to mean so much to me, cause I don't think I can withstand another cut to my core that deep, it's still sore.

So because of that I feel less and fear Lord. Give myself excuses like "her parents made more." "What would she even look my way for?" Victim of my own my mind, holding my inner gentlemen captive to free an ******* and I push away the same girls I used to pray for.

Even though Bella's fingers fitted in between mines as if that's what they were made for.

I know there's no way to take away the pain I've inflicted just like I still feel the pain of my own losses.

Mature enough now to realize my methods were addled by fear & emotion, & if I knew where you were Kennedy I'd tell you how sorry I am, realizing that it was selfish of me to vacate unannounced just to be cautious.

Tears always consume me thinking about the well being of Imani & if it's my fault. Blunts darken your bright soul, stress has dampened your smile & I'm so sorry my behavior made me inconsiderable to come dry tears.

I'd tell Ariel she made me forget my fears, that everyday I counted the piercings in your ears, that my reaction was pure caution after discovering you had kissed him, & I felt a pain as if I had held you in your bed for years.

I'd apologize to Rachel just because, just for the mix up in a terrible time for her. Id tell Amanda that I forgive her for playing with my mind, for saying she wasn't ready to move on & then kissing him in a club. Guess she'd say I got attached to quick in attempt to sucker me.

But I'm proud of that due to my often and recent inability to attach at all, & I regret the day  Abbie looked me in my eyes only to see I couldn't say I loved her too, that no matter how many times she lifted me to my feet I couldn't force my heart to give her that luxury.

Every night when my spirits are low & my eyes close to watch horrors,  I just feel the tears in my soul filling up from the hearts I've broken because mines lay in fractions.

So to them all, the Angels sent to me as I stumble through hell looking for the next hand to guide me, my deepest apologies for the ache, for time lost, & any unjustified distraction.

Motivation & ambition will lead you to ascend to levels where you're put around guys that are handed things you earn & the women are far to pretentious.

False salvation, better circumstances often lead to worse people, more obstacles, & being enveloped by spirits heavily tainted by blood of the innocent & the witness.

Oil simply doesn't mix with water, in this same concept genuine and artificial will never blend.

So your mind don't lose, everyone hates to lose, but it's a disguised victory if you ever lose a pretend friend with impertinent ends.

Tell the young boys flaws equate to reality & organic Love. Beware the Barbie dolls with perfect smiles that aquire happiness by spitting on and walking over the less fortunate.

But who am I to stop them from seeing for themselves? Who am I to stop them from seeing these girls on TV, working hard to get here, to get them, & realize their values you just can't override & soon your unconsciously forcing it

Perfection by definition is irrational to exist in the flesh but yet that's what she fancies herself, from physical appearance, intellect, to how she Loves.

All these "perfections" glamorized to hide the flaws she knows exist. Ms. Perfect Is that perfect Trust?

Tell me Ms. Perfect, Ms. Mommy's money, how are you so much better than us?

The value of a person runs much deeper than attractions, far beyond the material things, & I feel by now you've seen this, your last man cheated on you, probably with someone who embraces their imperfections, guess you weren't  "perfect" enough.

Ouch, I know you felt that just now. Low blow I know & you have the audacity to ask "why?"

In your mind someone like myself is so below you, it's kind of impossible for me to hit you up high.

What Hope Remained?

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
        As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
        With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
        And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
        As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
        To scale a void devoid of dawning light.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        For those in sight of angels heaven sent
        Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.

        When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
        To gift last hope to all who saw their might:

                What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
                Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.



In The Fall

I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,

And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall

Before it plummets earthward --   'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.

        I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
        Did he derive the meaning of it all?

Oh what is life if not a thrill,
To crawl, to walk, to run downhill,
To mumble, crumble to old age,
To this end I shall live my days?

To be unseen, to be unknown,
To be afraid to be alone,
To toil to scrape a living wage,
To this end I shall live my days?

Or yet, to pillage viking halls,
To barrel-roll Niagara Falls,
To greet a shark without a cage,
To this end I shall live my days!

Oh what is life if not a thrill,
To this end I shall live my days!