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  Dec 2017 M Harris
Poetic T
Within a casket of echoes
does the mirage of
      truth become stained
into a conciseness of delusions.
                 But still they are slaves..

Altercations of past inclinations
that merit, reflection of
                          misguided minds.
But with no morals they digress,
      standing on illusions of nothingness.

Where another doesn't tread,
                      fed to others delusions
of negativities prompting lies upon
lie with no merit only golden goblets
drinking upon the weakness of others.
  Sep 2017 M Harris
Nat Lipstadt
the undulating structure of the sea, woman

~for Megan Sherman~

you message me a brief, sweet like of
my poem's structure,  describing it as
"undulating like the sea."

you deserve much more that I can now provide,
the hour late, yet your succinct observation
engages my retinas deeper into oceans of imagination.

but told to "turn off the light,",
a standard life intrusion,
so for once in my life,
perhaps brevity, may here gain the upper hand.

but probably not.
no, this poem does not undulate.

I live by the sea, and its habits, guises and habitués,
her stockings and high heels, and come hither looks,
well known to me. Ha! most nights it even feeds me.

as I compose, she hides quiet, fifty yards away, no more,
causing no trouble tonight, yet seen it don and unmask
a schizophrenia of multiple personalities most terrible
in minutes as short as seconds.

rage and frothy spit, begging she be allowed to
swallow whole men and ship, harboring monsters,
that populate the nightmares of one called Jonah me.

her murdering riptides and lunar tricks
that are mathematically calculable and therefore predictable,
even then, wise man still most helpless charmed by
the fake news of the surficial, gentile, ladylike, curtsying, cutesy lapping, waving oh hello waves,
drown us with the greatest of ease,
which is what I think you mean when you say
the sea **** be undulating, performing its best and finest trickery.

yes, the sea is a women and its fluidity, nonpareil.

Have you ever seen a woman undulate?
see my notes below;

when the sea or a woman undulate,
things too oft die.  

this poem is unstructured, its heartbeat,
arrhythmic, and now, well, lady past midnight,
indeed, unhappy, unsure of the why of this poem,
its purpose undefined but you said:

                          un   
du
                    lat
           ing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

causing the sovereignty of my *un
conscious
to see a ballerina, her arms, moving unnaturally,
laying herself down to die

did I forget to mention
this poem was born on the ferry crossing the sea,
required to reach the island keep where
the home that I now lay prone in bed now writing
almost, soon enough,
"the end,"
having read your words, felt a poem instant birthing,
as the bow cut thru calm, undulating waves
while a storm in my eyes, the rancor of experience screamed,
my aminotic fluids joining the waters beneath my feet,
your words caused

and a ballerina waving arms swept me low,
asking, imploring,
watch me undulate unto death

and better now I understand the why of you,
for we both ****** addicts,
enslaved by the undulating
arms of our muses, and this then,
the nature of our
shared genius

so be wary of the sea, and writing, the ****** of poetry addiction,
given half a chance,
you will quite happily drown
when they both beckon,
come hither.*


<•>
8-19-17 ~ 8-20-17
11::04 pm - 3:24am
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=G_LHgXxz9VE

an amazing thing to see
M Harris Jul 2017
A Fairy Tale Lost In Demise,
His Visions Of Lies Still Painting Her Paradise,
She Lived With Incisions Of His Force Fed Lies & Sacrifice,

With Eternal Incarnation & Immortal Intoxication,
Ethereal In Translation, Lies Her Irrational Infatuation,

Mimicked Sanguineness & Emancipated Promiscuousnesses,
Her Mesmerized Senses Enticed By His Pretenses,

Digital Fears & Artificial Screams,
Her Carnal Tears Inside Her Abysmal Dreams,

A Ray Of Her Solicitude & Her Sublime Prelude,
Shes Gleams With Platitude & Visions Of Prime Servitude,

Crystalline Waters Of Her ****** Fountains,
Like A Valentine's Songster With An Ecstatic Bloodstain,

An Emissary's Vignettes & Infatuated Ex,
Lies Imaginary Silhouettes & Intoxicated ***,

A Twirling Luminaria With Metaphysical Symmetry,
Waltzing With Euphoria & Her Lyrical Tapestries,

Transcendental Memory & Reminisces Of Her Scars,
A Sacramental Story With Kisses From The Stars....

- 05:07 AM
M Harris Jul 2017
A Magnetic Dream Conceived Of Timeless Perfections,
With Telekinetic Screams & Flawless Imperfections,

Programmed To Transmits Her Prismatic Light,
Inflamed, She Emits An Axiomatic Delight,

Her Lilac Senses Filled With An Eternal Slumber,
With Insomniac Pretenses Sobbing Into A Nocturnal November,

With An Ensnared Avidity & Reunited Blues,
Flared With Frames Of Her Reignited Hues,

Tattered As She Respires Into An Abysmal Disguise,
Her Motionless Shadows Reprise Into A Dismal Surprise,

- 03:57
  Jun 2017 M Harris
Mary-Eliz
I see you there
suspended for a time
between the shadow
and the light.

You look pale
but peaceful,
in a dream state.

I rest awhile,
a shallow sleep,

then I awake

knowing…

without words
my mind whispers

it’s time

I gently wipe your lips,
brush a stray hair
from your forehead.
It’s all I know to do.

Then I sing
a cherished lullaby
hoping you hear me
hoping it wraps you in love
as my arms wrapped
around you
as a child.

I hold your hand,
kiss your forehead.
In that instant I see
and feel all you’ve been
all that is you

tiny wrinkled infant
delightful, smiling six-month old
curious toddler
proud school age
struggling teen
loving adult

realizing
we're losing all of these,
all that you've been
all that is you

then

I feel your spirit leave…

for that brief moment
I’m overcome with a calm
I can’t describe.

A gift rare and precious –

as I was there
when you entered the world
I was with you
when you left.
     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~        

"The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough."  
Rabinadrath Tagore
We lost our son to a brain tumor. He fought bravely and determinedly for seven years, enduring two surgeries, radiation, Gamma knife "surgery", chemotherapy and clinical trials. He never lost his sunny smile or determination. He only let go when he knew it was time, slipping into unconsciousness shortly after his two brothers (his best friends) arrived to say goodbye. He remained in that suspended state for two days. On the third day the four of us gathered for dinner and shared thoughts about him and our life with him. We cried, we laughed, we shared memories. Later that night he let go. I will always believe, being the caring and generous person he was, that he heard us talking and knew that, as hard as it would be, we would be okay.
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