The Thew Of Phantasmagoria



<for Sanders Maurice Foulke III>

The Thew Of Phantasmagoria

the muscles of the brain, design bridges, author poems, obviously
the strongest force upon the Earth, whence & where the powerful
coiling of our mortal coexistence energies be stored & unleashed

muscles summon previous unknowns, establishing neural connectivity
between colliding galaxies, undiscovered planetary rings, using kinetics
to create a vocabulary for the express purpose of astounding creation

the modest only dare inquire of themselves in wondrous silence
how came this thematic landscape, new language, to escape my
optics, my ken, my viewfinder, purview,  essential essence sensories?

the deniers claim magic lanterns, optical illusions, love, par example,
they ascertain, a chemical imbalance stimulates the sensorineural,
mocking those who believe the comet’s tail visible wags its orbital path

this poem abstruse, yet full of truths, a working man’s lunch pail
full of fine china chicanery, fooling those who observe only exteriors,
but we who live on bounded islands recognize safe passages available

when the thew of the phantasmagorical is debunked, acknowledging
that for something to be truly true, it must be agreed upon by two,
thus creating a language clarifying even if it’s punctuated by shadows



621pm 23-2-2020
IP lmn

No man is an island
But some are a cul-de-sac

A hue of three
We princes stand
A half, a child, and one a man

The prince of blue
Collected, calm and cold
Died to the red hue
So've we've been told

The citrian prince
Mind; heart of child
Pure innocence
Energies wild

Red prince, of passion and love
To self his own
A brethren fell at his shove
Thus becoming grown

The Land of Calm Calamities
Here now it lies an island
Call out its name, if you do same
It'll rise from the horizon

Upon a hill
The palace still
Watches upon its city

Three harpies sings
Blue prince on string
Left behind him royalty

I crashed into love
My ship had been lost at sea
Map was torn to shreds
And my compass had mislead me
Lied to me and abandoned me
Brought me to the wrong island
To hell and back and back again
I was trapped there on that Purgatory Island
Afraid i'd never make it off at all
I escaped-
Returned back to my ship at sea

My anchor was lifted
I let the ocean carry me away
Simply drifting through
A torrent life
Aimlessly floating by
Island after island
Too afraid to land
Too afraid it would be
Another perdition in disguise

I closed my eyes after staring
So closely and longingly at the clouds
How they danced in the sky
A song of freedom and carelessness
While I was chained down to earth
My heart anchored in the lonely sea
I closed my eyes to escape reality
To for just one second
Feel as careless as the clouds in the sky

I let my ship be wrecked once more
By a tiny islet alone in the ocean
Such a hard ****
Such irreparable damage
From such a tiny island
I felt helpless
Distraught and terrified that
My carelessness brought me back
To that devilish island

I was shipwrecked by love
Afraid and alone
I had no clue what to do
Other than brave it out
And step once more
Onto a foreign land
A tiny island
Not even on a map
A tiny beautiful island
The more I let go of fear
The more I longed to see
The deeper into the heart I went
The less afraid I became
I didn't want to leave
And to this day I remain
Home on that Heaven Island

The sea no longer calls to me
No temptation on the horizon
No doubt on my tongue
The angelic land is home to me
Holds me in a devoted embrace
My Elysium hidden away
From erroneous judgement
A tiny islet in the sea
Yet home to a thousand Nirvana's
Just for me

The lime,
Shored up, spine cracked
And open paged
Is ridden with vine,
Life
Rife with tree and green
A hidden lung
To which you inspired,
This rich tapestry of coral
From old looms of woven Word.

As time washes them to the sea
And their beached bones populate the beaches
I rest my feet on the shores of shores
The neap of these spires
The catch of your breath

And am left without any.

One of the minnows
Cast in the light
As blades of chaff in a summer plain
Flares, as a star in the dappled light
To become the murk of dancing sea.


As babel casts distance between our words
Flowers and plants we drink and burn
Our church is upon the water,
Where God writes his testament in the rock
And shows us Our image
Reflected on the sea

Where I come to understand
Command
The path of all beneath
The current made
With every stroke
Guided and goaded
With rice and stick
With love and fear
I knew Him in me.

The deep holds Your waning disk
Twilight dyes the waters
I saw the wonder placed in us
Traced upon the fleeing skies

I have no words for your kindness
I found etched between the ancient grains
Only that I wish I could see them better
Written for more familiar shores.

As darkness blots the sky with ink
And the ocean fades into crashing waves
I am left with but the faintest warmth of day
Whispered 'long the breeze.

I write my words in cursive so they know how to.
The lines that bind us together can seem so thin,
like a dash of ink, it can be wiped away.

An island only knows water for the way it extends beyond the horizon.
The peaceful splashes of rippling waves can’t pacify the feeling of loneliness;
a passing bird squawks as it carries on its journey.
And the sun keeps rising day after day.

Have you ever felt the jolt of holding someone’s hand?
The spark of life that is embracing them in a hug?
We were made to connect,
yet so many of us sit aside
unplugged.

The singer on the stage begs us to sing along;
and for a moment, every stranger is bound by word and sound.
That post-concert depression hits hardest during that long drive home -
riding solo.

I write my words in cursive so that they know how to.
Because if they do, maybe you will too.