You guided me, you showed me a world different from the plain I had existed in,
You showed me my own twisted and tormented visage.
 
Sensei you were my light, your radiance was blinding,

But I saw it,

The abyss you left in your wake the ones left with no way to see,
Their eyes left useless,
their steps chaotic,
their hearts empty,
their minds in ruin.

Sensei this was your art.

Thisis is my name and now this is my domain

This is where I am king.

Sensei why do you look so pained?

.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'

Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'

Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                                    
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,

Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'

Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'

When you go back
Maybe it is to even the score
But it scares us.
Being hit one time should
Tell you that you are
Just going back for more.
The past has promised
Nothing will probably
Ever change.

You don’t seem to know
How it hurts those
Who love you so.
You can’t seem to fit it
Into your head
That we fear the next call
Will be to tell us
That you are dead.

He beats you and then
When he is not
He’ll saying ugly things.
That’s the kind of
White knight you have got.
You call him wonderful
When he’s not a snot.
We keep telling you
Wake up, wretched girl
He is certainly not.

Sometimes you tell us
You want to give him a chance
To explain things to you
But he can only give
Some more lies because
That’s what liars do.

And you tell lies as well
Or why else go back
To that personal hell?
You go back because
To be alone scares you
Almost as well
As being berated and
Beaten like a bell.

But we don’t want this!
To know you are hurting
And bruised by
A man you should be deserting
For a life where people
Can be trusted with love
And not to shove a fist
Into a battering glove.

Don’t go back, beloved.
If you do you tie our hands.
Some of us understand
But that doesn’t mean
That we agree with your choice.
Listen to the voice
Of reason when we say
Don’t go back for more today.
Or ever again.

Its only a figment of my misery,
Truth distorted and twisted to match my horrible mood.
I'm aware of the unreality behind the notion, but its weight compressess my bones,
Its too heavy for me to remain motionless.
Any act in the manner I have in mind would be self destructive,
But im willing to scar myself just to lighten the load.
Even if its only for a moment,
Believe me, I will have my rest.

I've been everywhere with your image,
Imagined experiences you'd never willingly share with me.
Its okay,
What's authentic may not be to my liking anyway.
I love the personalities I create.
To date, they've never bit the hand.

I was once in thrall to the infamous myth
Of the artiste souffrant,

But I’ve come ultimately to see it
As the cruelest of delusions.

But could it not be said
That it’s still among us,

That malefic notion
That the artist is a spirit set apart,

For some special purpose
Of which pain is an essential component?

Thankfully my brother didn't surrender his life
I really don't know what to say to his daughter and wife
That event brought me here
My mother love me, but can't now keep me near

I was often silenced at first
Almost rejecting everything that will keep my pulse
Food, water, medication if only i can reject air
To make an end to this head that was so unclear

I saw a lot of me here
I know how hard for them too
Some are losing hope
Others not giving up trying to cope

To then i remember the pages that i've wrote
Most are poetry that are giving hope
I miss that passion and that feeling
Giving me a reason to fast track my healing

Now I have a reason to be alive and not to be dead
All I want now is to keep my body this head
I will be free soon and fly like a balloon
And I will write a poetry about the shining moon

"Come let's make love" those nymphs voices again
"Join us praise satan our god" that demon shows begin
"No let's go to heaven and sing" what an angelical voice
"Hey let's play" clowns giving me a wonderful toy

"No, No, Never..." I told them "for now i'm such a big boy"
"Come let's write a story" a dead poet say
I followed him so quickly
And we began to write ...... an unknown poetry......

written: august 5, 2014 at 11:00 pm PH time

Mysterious Aries