I live,
In the lucidity of dreams
Undreamt

Eternally naked,
In front of a crowd
Yet, dwelling
In a trench coat style
I'll bare you my soul,
Yet hide my face
I prefer my words, on the wind
Felt,
Never heard
A fading voice
In the chamber of
Never Unlocked
In the realm of things touched
I remain untouched
Unkown
Reality holds no fascination for my eyes
I went blind when the hopscotch grid got washed away by the rain

I live
In the lucidity,
Of dreams
Undreamt

Here I am bleeding again
Taken aback by mortal fear.
                     Staring at faith
                   Staged by hope--
Pouring rain on visceral cage–
               The sound of deep
                       Calling to deep.

Repressed feelings buried by time.
Epitaph reads on the forgotten grave:

"Here lies the child now grown.
  His hopes and dreams
       Dashed to pieces.
  This is where the child died."

I often hear the Mystic Keeper
        Calling from night
And tradition calling from artificial light

As I run through scorched barren
                          Fields of doubt.

Walking barefoot over these coals
    Crouching low
                   To hide my eyes

As I run    
         And as I hide    
  From what has already been revealed--
The tombstone says it all.

When I am out on the water
Lost in the Channel fog
I often see fleeting glimpses of
                White cliffs of hope
Like the white cliffs of Dover
Shining on the edge of Melancholy Sea. 
But they often turn out to be
Withered white
     Seeds of religious platitudes.

      And then there is the ready reflection
Of the looking glass
        That often tricks the beholder.
For in it truth is not seen.
What is seen is graffiti of soul
       Hiding the crumbling
                         Cracks of age–

The threshold where
         Sanity meets its end.

Isolation has become
       A shining steel blade
Cutting deep
    Into the heart of hearts.

Nothing lives after amputation.
Depending on emotional prosthetics--
Phantom pain
                  When nothing is there.

But in the midst of these devastations
I am learning to take--

     Howbeit reluctantly--

The hand of trust and grace.
Allowing
            Hope to build
      A fortress for dreams…
Set boundaries better
       Than no control at all.

Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots

And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again

Through the blue tone
Of my deadened layers
The life leaked so simply
Disappearing into the pool of
Emptiness and rage
Into the eyes
That knew no gratitude
The bottomless fall into
Meaninglessness
And yet through the lucidity of this phantasy
Faith persisted to survive
Uncomprehancibly
Unverbalized
The sound of a dead crow
Prophesizing there is more
Than mind can comprehend
Worlds yet to be discovered
Inspirations and souls to be awakened

I poured my heart out
With a pen and paper
Until there was nothing left
An empty shell holding a journal.

I used to be happy.
I used to know what it was like
To feel joy course through my body.
We all did,
At one time.

Then there's the loss
And none of us are ever the same.
Pretenders, I'd call us.
We can fool the lucky few who don't know the darkness.
The oblivious-
They do not know what the world is.

The world is a beautiful, devastating mess
It takes, but it doesn't give
Mounds of dirt viciously colliding and collapsing
To make canyons and mountains.
And yet, some people only see the beauty
Not the destruction

You cannot see the destruction
Without having been destroyed
And to be destroyed,
Is to be lost forever.

*And we just keep on pretending

You can’t alter reality
  with an opinion

You can’t alter reality
with a drug

To alter reality, you must force
  time upon itself

Defining the indefinable,
—leaving only what is

(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)

Many moons,
have passed over my headpiece,
as you leave me behind,
in moondust & ashes each night,

You collect on the bookshelves,
I keep here,
collecting on hearts with your light,
dusting my world with your beauty,
diminutives in bits of the white,

This is not the end of the journey,
 this a mere tiny part of the flight,
and I've not seen any more shiny,
or any star nearly as bright,

Though I am unable to see you now,
or touch your skin ever again,
or truly hear you with my ear,
I still miss you so my friend,

I know I cannot be near you now,
I cannot be where you are,
as you are but a twinkling light,
a brilliant & distant, star-

If it was not but for the moon dust,
my heart wouldn't,
be able to see you anymore either.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Somewhere, amongst the debris
of cigarettes after ***,
chemicals to induce sleep,
I forgot what it means to love.

I forgot what it means to breathe,
to sit still, and just be.

Somewhere, beneath these hooded seams
of solitude and well-versed grief,
beats a heart less cynical,
less tamed by vague distraction.

My nervous ticks and bad habits,
line of best fit for a near-hit
of satisfaction:

This is not enough, I know.
This is not nearly enough
to cool the bray of life
that still rattles meaning in my bones.

I forgot what it means to love,
what separates a house from a home.

Somewhere beyond this thirst
for brand-new words
is a gratitude for all that has been.
Every cliché holds a truth.

Every sentiment, a cocoon,
that I should lie so still inside

until I am wholesome,
until I am new.

You cannot break the broken, you can't live in the past, throw that memory away, you cannot let it stay, oh I wish I had the power to change every wasted hour, to knock down this growing tower under which I fearfully cower, in my ball of self regret.

             
                    I can remember:

                Tears that I have shed.

                 Lies that I have said.

                 Pain I have inflicted.

              Oh how I feel conflicted.


But know now this, for it is true, for all the things I can't undo, I'd never regret loving you.

Light and shadow
Are the dance
Of life

softy I SPEAK in sweetest
whispers TO THEE fondly...
truly. AND devoted am I to prove
that I  love THEE by Jove!

the Universe IS HER center stage
above AND below.
for SHE IS THEE my little dove
snowy white AND pure,
her beauty to be admired.
she is the one TO WHOM I REFER with glee.

i ask god, COULD SHE BE with me
for AS MUCH as an eternity?
she has crashed INTO ME so i am a
                               wreck.
it seems AS I AM INTO HER? we shall
.                                 see.

if yes AND IF SO, i want her
to respect THEN THIS PLEA FROM ME
which comes sadly
now WITH WOEFUL but happy
falling TEAR, hopefully my
affections WILL NOT GO TOO LONG
being that
call that goes UNANSWERED HERE, that
would be
regrettable.

i pray FOR HER SILENCE to go away
perhaps because it HURTS to be
forgettable.
yet it BUT IS what it is.
such beauty is RARE i must admit.

SO FAR AWAY!           YET SO NEAR!

we are where we are
BUT I WISH YOU WERE NEARER, DEAR!

BECAUSE it is in
EACH DOMINION
that ON SUCH OCCASION
you MUST UNWIND, your soul
SO AS TO
solely BE a sole
fragrance that is REBORN IN THE
MORNING SHINE, this day and the
next RETURNING AS
GLORIOUS AND AS FRESH AS THE NEW DAY
SKY, that is my wish.

AND you THEREUPON SHOULDST CARRY
ON upon a dream WITHOUT IMPERFECT
MOAN OR a mightier SIGH of loveliness.

I PLEAD WITH THEE TO MANUMIT YOUR
TIGHTENED CLASP THAT BINDS, you
sadly in slavery. now REST YOUR
WEARY HEAD A BIT ON MINE, AND EASE
INTO PLEASANT REVERIES with only me.

After ALL, THE DUSK you trust
HAS COME rightly
TO GIVE REST TO THEE, AND I
AM but what i am. i am
**YOURS AND YOURS AM I
--I AM RESTFUL SLEEP.