It hides itself
Better of late
That old companion
In my shadow
That perpetual  
Creeping malaise
Coiling inside my brain

Never springing
Only cr  e      e p             i n g

      Slithering

      Mesmerizing

        Paralyzing

Logic and common sense.
A lord of fear
Undermining mental
Immune systems
Playing my emotions

Like a violin concerto–
Devil's chord

Out of tune socially    
                                Mentally.

But then I see her
In her vulnerable position
That sweet  

        Innocent child/woman
Who props up my remains
Who takes me back
To simpler times
And youthful joys

When the hooded cobra
Was in embryonic form.
This one constant in my life
Keeps the cobra at bay

But it waits just outside the camp
Taunting me
Whispering just low enough
So I can't make out what
It is saying.

But how can one make out hissing?!

When you were always told
That you are fine
Nothing's wrong
Maybe a little neurotic sometimes

What can you do?
Be reduced to a catatonic state?
Where can you hide but in your shadow?

She lays out her heart
On her sleeve  
Both sleeves
As the red
Carpet is rolled
Out for royalty
Whether for
Honor or dishonor
But always
For ceremony

It beats in polyrhythms
Under and on her
Many layered epidermis
Whose layers
Perhaps only a mystical
Archeologist could
Analyze
The complexity of an
Ancient undecipherable book
              
Created by years of damaging
Neural and spiritual
Pathways by absorbing
The essence of her
Personal peace pipe
Which is bereft of the
Essential factors found
In thousands of years of
Dream religion

She fancies herself
A new breed of
Shaman perhaps
A connection broken
At an unknown time
In her spirit
But felt strongly
And deeply as
Phantom pain
Evident in her
Crystal ball
And stargazing

A remnant of
A long lost tribe
A tapestry of
Religions
Trivialized
Pop cultural  
Spirituality
And superstition

Her motives
Misplaced and obscure
But definitely from
A healing source
But the channels are
Eroded and indefinable
Bastardized by

Extraneous channels
And alien sources
A trickle of water
In a dry river bed
All muddled into
This enigma and

Multicolored tapestry
Which is often
Misunderstood
And underestimated
Protected by the
Thick epidermis
And hard to follow
Cardiac polyrhythms
Revealed when her
Many layered tongue
Lashes out and cuts deep

Not intending to control
And manipulate
With leadership
Origins perhaps in the
Shaman or tribal leader
But definitely
Out of place and time
Since their true essence
Has been lost through
Her Westernized
Industrialized
And hyper-capitalized mind

And scattered to the four winds.

Longing eyes upon you cast
As a mirror does reflection find.
In the air of chambers behind
Lingers restless passions laid to rest.
Like a silent laugh or tearless cry
My life seems waste to my enemies.
Their wrath I did bide my time to appease
But hope-sight you gave me--ethereal eyes.
Through these common sight can never be
As a soul into new dimensions born.
At these seas I stand formless on the leas
No longer hiding but now riding the storm.
Your soul holds mine deeper into these seas--
Orpheus and his love reunited forever in
Glorious form.

Established landmarks removed test the fates
Burning wind in a vacant sky
Rearranged cosmic hemispheres of mind
Oracle of day not seen with naked eye

The need for warmth a thing of the past
Frigid waters the basis of newfangled cell
Tortured derelicts kept from spiritual vision
Oracle of night hangs in days empty shell

Dubious means to generate a sun of artificial light
But a fling cannot replace a love that is shunned
Yet warm rays of sunlight still flow above the temporal
Still hanging in defiance of the 60 cycle hum

Regain your bearings oh heart of Pure Light
Everything in its place: oracle of day and oracle of night.

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE
Where every scene from every play
Ever written flows seamlessly into
Each other in no particular order

ALL THE WORLD'S A ****** MYSTERY  
Where everyone’s a probable suspect
Including  the investigating officers
Playwrights and audience
Yet we’re all sure we know whodunit

ALL THE WORLD'S A COMEDY OR STAND-UP ACT
Where everyone’s a dressed-down clown
Even the straight man and the cast and crew
And everyone plagiarizes the punch-lines

ALL THE WORLD'S A PASSION PLAY
Where everyone’s a martyr
Even the judge and executioners
And the messiah must be
A flavour of the week superstar

ALL THE WORLD'S A  SOAP OPERA OR CRIME DRAMA
Where the cast doesn’t realise
They aren't wearing any clothing
Even though they are seasoned
And respected award winning actors
And the show is being marketed as pornographic

ALL THE WORLD'S AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENTARY
Where everyone’s the subject
Director producer and crew
As long as the camera is rolling
And it’s rolling 24/7 !

ALL THE WORLD'S A REALITY SHOW
Where everyone’s a drama queen
Including the director producer and crew
And the camera is always rolling
Even when there’s no film in it
And the props and stage are constantly being
put-up and torn down all around them

ALL THE WORLD'S A COMEDY/DRAMA
Where nothing’s really that funny
And the edginess is trite and melodramatic
Like a cast of mimes in a Shakespearean play

ALL THE WORLD'S A GAME SHOW
Where everyone is the host
Including the audience
And there are no contestants
Only models on a flashy stage.