Upon a midnight’s visage airy,
T’was a lake frozen by fairy,
…and weighing on mind’s tonnage bearing?
There for ice’ opaqueness winter’s seized,
…and arms encased in rime; trees.

“Oh my,”

At dark of sky thought the eye of something troubling upon my mind?

And the frosty cloudy glass,
Take to it upon my axe,
…and the sting of shards will pass.
And will I eat at last.

Thusly, thrusting through the skull, wettened, weakened for the cold.

…and burden carry I with me,
So encased in rime is he,
Doth make of fishing’s night a chore,
Something that I do abhor!
…and stare I did into that sea,
…my frory breathe in imagery,
Dismay it did fluster me, when my eye captured by Sea,
...and in whirling thoughts could reflection see?
…and something else came back with me.

Pool with drops, light curves, dark rings; in vapid mind now find nothing...

T’was a misty sheen seen after showers?

A damp muggy place of reflecting hours,
Typhoid strange did make snowing;
The Asteraceae of my wilted flowers,
…and that Wren philosophically sings,
…and at lake a lone be -ing,

Appearing peering my soliloquy, I am therefore I into thee.
…and fixed calm stared back at me,

“What pray tell I Enquiry?”

Did something else look back at me?

...and glaring gaze thus did see, something I had hid from me,
…and gawking in my mind did ogle; a malevolence of thought once frugal...

A gaping, oscillating, pierced Abyss, forced farther back into consciousness...

Deeper in and further still,
Climb atop Old Arthur’s hill,
…and the winged Raven’s nearer, reflected on me in my mirror?
…and time did pass turning frozen dying, icy tears of sadness from my crying,

…so did silent Hume release, all the pain that’s troubling me; whilst frozen frame thus held in peace?

I fell forward and felt submerged,
Both characters, both now have merged.
And that creature which accompanied me?

Found a solace back in wine dark sea.

Eye can taste
The musky dusky dark
Of a raven on a windowsill

Eye can smell the Witches
Brew, be it stirred or
Be it still

Eye can feel the pain
And sorrow of man
Trapped in shadowy cave

Eye can hear the cries
Of Homer's sirens on
Rocky shore and mystic wave

What you see is what you get
Never has there been
A cliche so obvious
And yet a truth so paperthin

A sorcery
of flying
heels that
extol porphyry
that has
gemstone wheels
as topographic
glance never
enhance more
than now
this romance  
sweeter than
yore in
her parts
of ******
desire ground
in philosophy.

When humanity's place among the stars is known,
            the poetry by which it shall be judged;
                  a journey of our Sun and his relationship to the heaven's.

accept it as it is; know you can't change it

It has been almost
Two thousand
And five hundred years
Sine Plato’s cave
Spewed us out
Into an odyssey
Of light and
Philosophical
Humanity
Two and a half
Millennia
Spent clawing our way
Out of the dirt
Into this age
Of technological wonders
And now you
Want to blunder
Back in to
That cave that
Gave birth to
A new science
You want to
Take back
Evolution
And electricity
Medicines, and
Other utilities
Letting Freon
Burn a hole through
The atmosphere
That was protecting you
Letting old ideologies
Rebloom and consume
Taking the opposite
Of mushrooms
Twenty-five centuries
Till we succeed
In failing so completely
As you drag me
Back into
Plato’s cave

Plato tell us
that
man’s heart holds
a restraint
whilst
woman’s will,
run wild
Quietly enduring, stoic;
in silent pity
it rejoices a relief
though other men’s
sorrows are to
pyramid  our own.

Dark chains - bind us all,
tied to another, look at the wall
drawing & symbol' on this wall seem true,
Is no reality for me - nor for you

Said Chain cannot be broken
Nor can it's locks be ever open,
For this cave - Love is of no avail,
One speaks of truth - to be justly impaled?

"For one can only speak of blunder
cries of pain turned rain from thunder
a path or spell, trapped in or under
primed a task to a dictated hunter
to curse, to maim, to harm one other;
If one should speak of love or compassion
Not wealth nor example but positive action
If One speaks of truth, or of which; but a fraction,
It will be viewed as a wrong, as an abstraction."

For the crowd boasts one happy hell,
for the fallen, as it is - there is nothing new to tell
All is squalid, unheard of pretend - my friend
garbage cans to propaganded pineal glands
wedding bands to the holy soldier with no hands,
or to walk alter aisles with knees lost and dammed,
some horses better left unsaddled -
condemned to capers of deserts untraveled

A frozen thistle - thought to be in re-bloom
a hidden aged wonder in my evil dark room