by: W. A. Marshall

There is one thing that will never change
regardless of ones tribal theology
or sociopolitical street-hood,
people are indifferent
to their own damaged beauty
and yet we are all fearful
of something down there -
we follow the tides like schools of fish
searching for water
They want solutions without pain
They want rebellion without revision

There are several truths that float here
Like leaves on winters infinite pool
And sometimes sink after hours, further,
Into the depth of my breakable mind.

I am almost always clothed to the body
Of an undetermined tomorrow,
Suffocating in the sleeves
Of any hopes shirt.
Keep you, I have been, for there
In the dirt road of my eyelids
You play with the riddled veins
Light cables unmet by reason.

It is not a tragedy, because
sideshow children were once living
And in their surrounds
Alive, beautiful people breathed.

I will be eluded by a string of pacifiers
A mobile above my head at night
But in-between lies of mystic creatures
And pearl planets, I will always be met by myself.

This lass, like many others, fair,
Her scent fragrant and sweet.
Her skin, exotic, is caramel toned.
Up North are her twin peaks.

Sweet rubies are my lover’s lips.
Sparkling diamonds are her eyes.
Yes my Lady is pleasing and rich,
She is both good and kind.

One hand explores my Lover’s curves
in search of the Divine.
as I vow  to preserve and love
her for all of  my  time.

together we plumb her deepest depths
She shifts to meet my action.
Happiness is in the moment now;
then, later, satisfaction.

Wellbeing is an illness that plagues my mind
regardless of what others believe it to be.

The blindness in despair
The sorrow hidden from the heir
She threw herself in the outcast
She sought for something beyond the solace

Idealism is her weakness
Idealism is her strength
Idealism is the driven force
Idealism is the stepping stone
Idealism is for the optimist
Dream on, an idealist.

God, we speak about serenity
To You everyone remains sane
Love all the trouble we have sinned
For the allure and grace begin.

Of withering tempests screaming to the break of sunlight,
Of unrelenting wind and pounding rain, she stands
With her back to crashing waves and painful bellowing,
A weak induction of steady sighs and silent contemplation
Would perhaps bring a peaceful conclusion to the rage
And reproach of a Goddess stirring on the fringes of insanity.

But never would it have taken to fresh insanity,
The gentle swirling of confusion between glaring eyes and sunlight,
How she would wish never to part from the burning of rage
And leave a scorched shadow on the very place she stands.
Never did she desire for the learned art of contemplation
But instead found solace in a frozen lake of tears and bellowing.

At the end of such a night filled with harsh anxiety and frenzied bellowing,
She finds herself staring into the gleaming eyes of Insanity,
Who dwells in sweet and blissful contemplation
And harvests the piteous glow of sunlight
Such that any man would freeze and cease where he stands
And succumb to the urgings of exhilarating rage.

A chilling gust would release the embracing rage
And perhaps bring wishful silence to the obnoxious bellowing;
She feels her feet sinking through the sand and stands
out of reach from the tearing claws of Insanity.
Relief in the warmth of ethereal sunlight
Proves a worthy companion of contemplation.

Eudaimonia, she finds in her deep contemplation
Free of sorrow, empty and weary from her onslaught of rage,
She casts herself into the welcoming cracks of sunlight
And in Euphoria, she finds herself no longer bellowing,
The slow and steady pull of her chains toward Insanity
Break away and leave her where she stands.

In new light, she finds her strength and stands,
Embracing the drifting stream of wraithlike contemplation
Would send shivers and open wounds that might invite Insanity,
But turning around and gazing out into those waves might blind the Rage
And bring peaceful sighs to interrupt the senseless bellowing
Such that black clouds would give way to glorious sunlight.

To the death of Rage and the estrangement of Insanity,
The wistful bellowing banished in the silence of contemplation,
The Goddess stands with her back to the wind, tears dried by the warm sunlight.

I live at the ******* mall
And I’ve got that eternal beauty blues
for in the end eudaimonia
was all part of the clever ruse
The point of what? I ask of you
Cause there was nothing else to do
Its true

Sometimes I just wonder why that’s all

Flights of birds, bucolic minds
our Tortured, Analytic souls
The mind boggles as the heart dies
when the autumn brings the cold
as so the white dwarf shines

I just came for the free ride

On the Crest of That Beautiful wave
described in words that signify
all the wordless, senseless time  
for bleached are the ones on the road, freshly paved
when the relationship is master and slave

Sublime is but profound confusion

Eudaimonia:
Once you were elusive

Now,
I feel the redshift in my bones.

I know that god watches me in stunning HD,
Has the whole thing on blu-ray--
But I've smudged my eyes and blurred my brain.

I've stomped my heart in the raging forum
To scoop it back up beneath my jacket
And scurry off like a disgraced man.

And I have ridden my bike headlong into traffic.

So now when I think about stars beyond that horizon
For me there is a despondence in their leaving:
A permanent obscurity gnaws at my mind.

But I'm a crusader after the holy grail,
A politician after world peace. No--
I'm a priest tripping on acid, staring at stained glass windows.

I worry that the Enemy has already made a feast of me
That in defense of myself I'd come undone
And be left with little pebbles
Eudaimonia
Are we too late