Endless matrix shall unravel the undying spirit from each parallel;

and I wilt speak freely to her now, and when I see her in each dell.

By the light of a dawning spell, I read by numbers and defy his evil.

I am your admirer from afar,
For you are a shooting star.

I yearn for you, a distant fire
-Forever fore and aft you are.

To Reality, bring me back!
In consequence of the fact

Loving you is in fact, in effect,
My only cause, of  this affect.

This state of mind, this abstraction or release from reality, has a smooth continuity of which derives from misty mountain tops as my vitality and ingenuity pours like wines, like raindrops, raindrops thru lattices into glasses of fallacy that I could ne'er overfill, overtop, or like this purest galaxy drink to the drains when the delicate string pops, which bearing fears does not bother me, but is honestly to my chagrin, because now and then with tears I feel beyond youthful years, as tho my petals have been plucked; and my color fades like the picture on a movie screen -I can't adjust. But in my dreams thru the fog, the misty haze soon dissipates as a new love cares naught about my age -reality dreams after all.

Lo! Michelle! Lo! you cry so well;
Tears of sorrow in your eyes do dwell;
Look not so upon the lofty heaven,
At nary a daybreak, at no dusky even;
After the call of the vicious wolf wailing,
When viscous dark falls, a full veiling,
Glimpse athwart the dark old forge,
And see me forge my darkled sword,
This sword shall free thee **FOREVERMORE!

A broken timepiece in my heart ticks away, but has fallen out of rhythm, out of place; and I know that I will go on feeling this way, perhaps on and on like an eternal flame, or the dream notion of a perpetual motion machine.

Yet still, I shall dwell, woolgathering, if you will, as the days and weeks that go by in this ghost town where I reside, do go on and on, under the stars, under the daytime sun   --and into the void that I see drain.

Thee I saw
Down rows many
And
Many rows down
Saw I thee.

.thee I saw
Down rows many
And
Many rows down
Saw I Thee

Go to Amazon and type in Jamie Cantore. All of my titles will appear. My latest book Poems Of Expression Revised Version Of A Bit Of My Poetry is available on Amazon for free until May 15th.

To all love-struck verse, echo well.
No troubadour could mimic so well
The far-flung hopes our lines so tell.
To all love-struck verse, echo well.

Bless the kind muse, bless the bard.
Our goal, our aim, to draw
The heart to other hearts
That do play the part.
Bless the kind muse, bless the bard.

Love will follow Love, if it be true.
Lend not Love to repossess, be true  
To your word, or the definition review.
Love will follow Love,
And if this be true

Then all love-struck verse
Will echo well with you.

Isolation often engenders depression

Depression is e'er marked by sadness

Sadness makes us expressive of grief


Grief is a distress that wears you out

O**ut is where we all should try to be!

Toxicants pumping thru my vital fluid red,
Sooner rather than later I may be dead;
And I whisper to the darkest sea;
And I whisper to the darkest Lea;
And I'd whisper this to thee...

I love you in that fashion,
I love you with mad passion:
But, too soon, I became dead.

My Darling ne'er betrayed my faith,
But speak to me in whispers quaint
Did she; and hung her head as if
To say, “I love you so, but by dear Love I faint; and
Faint for thee, Love
—Forever and a day.” Then a day
Could ne'er be complete, but for pain. A pain we two felt when
Together we laid, in the hearts of Glee, In the eyes
Of saints…
Giving all that was taken
Back in spades! Black as
Pitch was my heart upon that day,
But ivory white twas she, without Stains —
In mine eye —but Death took her
Anyway.

To my surprise she smiled,
I was dismayed
As she rode with the
Shadows gayly
, Into Hades.
I saw the Jezebel for what she was,
I was for a fool played without
A just cause.

There is a Time Bomb with 3 minutes left to go before KABOOM! There are 4 wires. 1 Red. 1 Blue. 2 Green.
The 2 Green wires are connected to the same contact point.
In order to cut any of the wires, you have to turn the bomb on it's side at least 45 degrees. There is a mercury switch on the bomb  in addition to the timer. Also, a remote detonator is installed on this bomb. The bomber left a note that said: Do not cut the 2 Green wires, or you'll be sorry!! What do you do, Hot Shot?

So be to thee most fair, fair muses,
Thou flawless, ardent, goodly muses,
The age of poets did not for itself go.
Muses fair, fair most thee to be so.

Donate, volunteer, be a mentor, but most of all... walk with God!

Nightfall's soft glow steals o'er the hamlet green, with magic hues to unify the scene. Stilled is the whir that thru the village broke, when round the relics of the old oak, the serfs flocked to hear the harper play, and festivities & joyful hymns closed the busy day. She lies at rest, the matron who delights no more, with cherished fables & legendary lore. All have departed; neither glee nor music flows, to pursue the dreams of chaste repose. All have departed; yet still I idle here! What mysterious charms this quiet spot does endear! Bespeak yon ancient manor scowling thru the trees, whose hollow crown is caressed by the breeze. That casement curved with ivy's greenest shade, first to these eyes, the light above conveyed. The dissecting gateway spreads the grassy court, once the peaceful scene of many a light sport, when all things charmed, for life itself was new, and the heart promised none to be harmed, by what imagination drew.

This is the place of love gone dormant for the sake of sanity;
Exiles from the hearths of home and kin's polite society.
The caravan of broken sleep/dreams file past the border,
And leave the world alone to hash out it's social order.

The loneliness of the frozen plains stretches and wearies
The hazy eyes of the dreamscape denizens in 1010 series.
The poverty of beggared imagination lies dark in the soul,
And I know too well the losing of what once did console:

Embraces, tender touches, guileless looks and intimacy,
Eyes that touch upon the music of the stars glowing;
And yet more is there you may have ceased knowing...
Merging as one by the fires beneath the mantelpiece.

Hovering wind, here and there! Visit me in the dale of my thoughts!
Descendants of cherubs fair, do visit me in the dale of my thoughts!

Thru the vast expanse, you may esteem the knowledge I do know.
But I deny not decadence, in the manner of knowledge I do know.

Do search out an answer, from the darkest eclipse of my past deeds!
Here they are but as it were, in the darkest eclipse of my past deeds!

-Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgement ye judge,
ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again I pledge; for that is what the Bible says.

Flighty lover, angel bright with colored light so warm, no other earthly creature has your harmony of form, nor could they nightly enter my haunting dreams-repeatedly reborn-as they hath tonight and every night since you didst leave me forlorn.

Yes, it seems my confident belief in thee was a fallacy, for you didst always intend to leave me as sad as one in mourning; your heartless ways being of a mystery tending to deceive.

You tell me in a distant voice annoying that you wish to come back to me, but in my hapless time of need, you once again would surely dissever our bond in the morning.

thy phantom that is the soul shall reveal itself
widowed 'mid lightless perceptions of the ashen
gravestone. not one-of all the troupe-to intrude into that solitude. be soundless in that isolation which is not confinement. then the ghosts who stood in mortal being
before thee, are again in decease  -neighboring thee; and their intention shall govern thee.  be motionless. the night-tho dimmed- shall glare; and the stars shall not watch over you from their cathedra in the heaven -with luster like fortune to the perishable given: but their eyes to thy indifference shall seem as an all-consuming blaze... which would embrace thee -forever and ever. now are ideas you shall not cast out. now are concepts never to fade away... from thy frame of mind shall they befall no more -like frost upon the ground. the gusts of wind are still, and the fogs upon mountains high are as umbrae.
yet in tact do they remain. O! how they hang upon this, the midnight air -most arcane!

She does so give the go by, for the attention I once did hunger for. Yet

soon I shall indulge with spirit high, in the spirits of bluish red, which

made me merry in days before, that may have otherwise -consumed me,

in hatred, or sadness: but one day-I know not which-I may seek this

this very day with gladness overflowing, overflowing my clear glass which glints in

the lime-light, that she attempts to steal once more, and this too shall

pass, past my lips goes the grapes of wrath, which I myself do pour, a

reference to Revelation; and a gift from beyond Steinbeck's sepulcher.

Disturbed, perturbed, rocking in a boat.
Afloat, remote, searching for the oath
Which admits sailors into the castle mote:
But, no luck, I don't recall at all, the absurd
Word, a verb, I stall! It's on my tongue tip:
Drip, slip, drop, slap, flip. Oh! I forget!
Disturbed, perturbed, still rocking in a boat,
Because, I was, at a loss for a passive word.

At dead of night in the muteness I sleep,
And set I my dreaming imagination free.
"Will these visions pass to where by Death
Victims think -held captive by their depth?"

'Oh what a shame is a wast'd mind, I think!'
The landscape of our dreams needn't blink
So dim, so dull -subjacent and sunken low!
'Wherefrom comes such limits in the skull?'

My mind aches to be in the know -not now.
"Could I endeavor to provide it somehow?"
I dream all things: Past, Future, & Present;
And if I could I'd  project it without lament.

All that I see to thee, profound as that may
Be: but at least we would be on one page.

Go to Amazon and type in Jamie Cantore. My book A Bit Of My Poetry is available in paperback and a Kindle edition. The Journal Of Graham Keats is currently unavailable, but I will re-publish it with revisions and additions soon -paperback only.  It's a short cautionary tale. Dristig Trekk, my Minor Epic Poem, is available in paperback and a Kindle edition. Please share. Thank you!

Words are Powerful!*  Now, somehow, dying are words, this is as sinful, nearly, as is Hell! Dying quick as such - for praying also, sadly. "So if He wish that end, that too is near; grant this, and trust as much as I!"
Dead not is His Heart! True, mine goes on, yet beats hardly mine. O' Heart! Only this is it, as it is, true, (be it Truth.)
Yes! Madder Words Do Hurt- badly so-they doeth so wrongly; and in breaking! Now, is that Heart? No!!!


No heart that is now breaking in-and wrongly so-if doeth they so badly hurt -do Words matter? Yes! Truth it be! True as it is. This only Heart  O' mine hardly beats, yet -on goes mine, True Heart. "His is not Dead!" I as much as trust; and this grant- -near is too, so if He wish, that end. Sadly, also praying for such as quick dying, "Hell!" is as sinful as nearly is this: Words are dying somehow. *Powerful are words."

I am in everything.
I am in nothing.
What am I?

2 8 4 6
3 7 2 5
4 6 4 4
5 5 2 3
6 4 2 2
7 3 2 5
8 2 4 2

Dance around, around those darkest silhouettes of the day. And in turn, turn the cold blue toward, toward the moving orb - and too your warmth. Warm your racing brain, 'neath cloudless skies and the sunny shore, sure to shine sunny, with sun shining alone. Shone surely without rain: but reign upon the highlights in ev'ry strain, and ev'ry strand of your demure locks so lovely. Lovely for so I say. Say I so? I do so say! Lo! Stay demure and pure, pure so say I so! So I say ye shall stay so pure, pure and demure to me for I say so! So that it is so, that is that so do not go.

Yet I desire Desire, for Desires sake; and cannot open this poem any more.  More than I have. Had I once more than now?  No. Now I have more now than then. For sake of Heaven, did I thee forsake? For Heavens sake! Can I not knot Love into this hair with a Love Knot? Does thee love not me with a Love not due me? Does thee love me not? Thee does not not love me! (or, so she says.) Well, says she so. So it is so! if so. I love thee not tho -not anymore.

What is red and smells like blue paint?

What is white and smells like bananas?

So I am poor, but withhold the only key
To allow access such dear safe treasure,
The rich will not a moment closely study,
For dull is the point of frequent pleasure.
Therefore are treats so sober and so thin,
Since rarely coming in the ages they own,
Like valuables rich men give on occasion,
Or gaudy gems placed just so in a crown.
So now the time arrives to peek my chest;
Peep my treasure by a spyhole revealed,
Making a blessèd instant instantly blessed
Soon unfolding the noted pride sealed.
Adored are you whose merit gives a scope,
If had, a Victory; if in Poverty, be broke.

Such worth is there in the so urbane
Northeast wind, fingers that do seem
Hardly aware of the ecstasy that twain
Did doth tend 'gainst the mighty grain;
Driven hard from a blue-grey heaven.

The temperate blast does so e'er pull
Not one so beholden or more joyful
As this soul loosed from the earthy soil.
I yearned to retreat, complete in my will,
To be so held in my eyes quite reverential.

The terrain lies firm beneath my feet.
With joyous warmth, for so does beat
Anxiously mine most libertine free
heart I cast a glance to thee -this the
Drifting cloud that does too follow me.

So blest are they whose bosoms receive
The Lord's Word with Faith, not believe
Just because their ancestors did before,
Simply due to what we saith & no more.
Great victories of persuasions wrought,
And gained merrily by diacritical thought,
The comfort fallacious thaut; but so keen,
Of having with our natural eyes seen.
What if none had seen, felt, or known?
An extent on second thought they own.
By no personal mandate personally prest'
To exert themselves in effort they detest.


No misleading reasoning or reasons tied.
No one way being the only way to decide.
He is The Light; The Way; The True God.

What holds a star together? *Hint: They could be considered vainglorious due this.

You are in in a haunted jailhouse, when the storm outside knocks out the electricity. Just as your turn on your flashlight, you are seized by two ghost wardens. You are treated very poorly.

They offer you a choice of being decapitated, shot in the head, or strapped into the electric chair and executed painfully.

Which would you choose?

I find myself in the days which have thus evanesced,
How oft, well beneath the flux of the fiery beating orb,
With childlike leaps sprung by scurrying feet, I soar
To a paradoxical paradise long since to dust coalesced.
                                          
           ­                                YET

The serpent that burdens with sleight ~ of  ~ hand trickery,
Banished from Eden, tho barred not from creation, as Sin
Forged a home by me, but not within, naught within!
He  slithers amongst thee, may God shield & deliver me!


.                                           HE,

My God, is to whom I turn to in dreadful moments
Like these: times that seem lost in the miasma of Hell;
And Life has dealt another wild card to me, I fell
For the bluff and chose poorly before my atonements.



                                          WALKS


Seem to help, when I feel quite down in the mouth,
For I have fallen from Grace-or so I have felt- at
Times when Sin in me seemed to rule my past,
And prayers seemed naught to help in my bouts.


                                        WITH


Me, I once carried my burdens more than my bible
Because my faith faltered from time to time, living
For the moment seemed more convenient, giving
Naught a thought but in hindsight to soul survival.


                                         ME,


I make mistakes which does not make me fake,
Perfection is not what He expects in this, The
Grand Test, which does not make me bad or godly
But rather on a quest to beat this mess I did make.

We were but void inside, depressed and hollow folk; and we were found to hide, beneath the blue-grey smoke; and crawling like animals upon our bellies, filled with emptiness, and forgetful memories. O how we go, go thru the bankable pennies, bleeding assets, worthless yet again, being penniless once again -we were but void inside, depressed and hollow folk.

I composed for my breath of life an essential structure of essence, one wherein thence only this, I do dwell in innocence, yet to mine only soul I may not speak of recompense, for the loss of my worldly investments was of no other's world, or their doing hence: but mine own and I them own. Guilt, I naught did then admit to it, and furthermore would do I this,unfurl it for sake of my lonely soul, or the sake of admittance -and for all this didst I sow mine own, mine own Reaper in mine own soil, much to my greatest Woe! Therefore I ask for forgiveness in this, my lost but redeemable world below.

There she was, an apparition, a treasured jewel neath the fair moon cool that oft shimmered upon her complexionso soft...

Far above we soar
Ascending, into the true domain,
Higher than the stars,
Over the gleaming "caravain"
We must vault for love, -
Into view of all form
In a unique form above
In a realm where the dorm
On which angels do ride,
Plainly gyre;
Where the paramount line
Circles the sphere,
Where differences aren't feared
Where good and evil combined
Meet me then there, Darling Dear,
And we will walk across that divined.

That lonely ash by the stream, sweet and tuneful did it seem, with chirping, buzzing, and melodies vast, shielded me from the sun's bright beam; and shade my eyes it did sixteen summers passed, lent it's shadow amidst the gleam, of rays over brilliant in their cast. But now, somehow, I made my way back to the scene, and some storm this season last, felled that lonely ash, that lonely ash by the stream.

O thou, my divine, who in thy rule
Dost cradle Death's changeable effect;
Who by withering flourished true
And showered thy love widespread.
If thee, Chatelaine, must bring to ruin
That which she wishes to make prosper,
Then keep thee to this noble ambition,
That your savvy may Death dishonor,
And those moments he would dispatch
Shall go on, his intentions put to death!

Under the vast dark of dawn's lofty cope,
with eyes as ablaze as the great sphere,
desire from the first of childhood cheer
looks skyward, past the shadows *****
through the lens that dreams cannot scope;
and makes no woe of the twilight dear.

She sat across from me
many years away she did seem
Time and Space still commingling
and once thought by me to be conspiring
to keep us a world apart.


Helpless was I in speech,
or naught had I the words to speak,
to this angel amongst the millions, one individually unique.
A falling star from the heavens, shrinking as she streaked
across the sky in many diadems, singing like an Old World lark.


Might I drink of your glass where it is sparkling,
I brought myself to ask finally.
The kinetic bubbles are tickling
the senses with emotions so sweet
as they pop under my nose sprightly
in the candlelight that is shining
thru the unfurled dark.

Instead she offered me her eyes innocently,
two clear craters full of life indeed,
they danced in the dim moonlight that evening
and revealed a guiltless smile within me
upon the release from Grief that she was offering
as an escape from my conservative soul now set free.
Thru Space and Time is now flying
Cupid's hurled dart.

When I do sum the moments of the dial
And spy the bold day to darkness fall,
When I survey youth advance the while
And sable coils to white unfold and dull;
When soaring trees shed their leaves,
Which formerly did a great marquee make,
And summer's blooming bound in sheaves
Stillborn in a tomb with webs on it's grave;
Then of thy allure do I inquest, I inquire,
That thou among the ebbing tide must go,
Since lovers & beauty do themselves retire
And die as swiftly as they once didst grow;
Then what 'gainst the passage of time
Can ensure survival, but a timeless rhyme?

Plainly see that I adore thee, for am I not fain to portray my undying love in lyric? So be it so that my love may go unreceived, still I write these lines so ye mayst hear it.
I do so hope, I do so dream, blind eyes will see, one day, tho 'til then I rely on thee, the one whom disputes my love, for fear that
she mayst lose you to me and my lost lyric.