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Zywa Feb 2019
Chatterchick is scattering cackles
because my husband follows
a truth of his own again and in vain
I am looking for silence

Blacky is in the dumps
sighing that she suffocates
in the darkening darkness
where it's never silent

It won't work!
Bring nuts and bars of chocolate!
Madam settles herself
to savour it in silence

I wish it were so
easy, Chatterchick cries
Bonkers, Fatty, Layabout
they taunt; Silence, Silence, I

shout, Get out! I'm going
to think of something else
or thoughtlessly
do sports, get tired

I wish it were so
easy, Chatterchick cries
and the dumps are moaning
and the sofa is snoring
For Maria Godschalk #49

Collection “On living on”
Homunculus Feb 2019
There's a secret saboteur,
         hidden within everyone
Fashioning his cloak and dagger
         for a twisted bit of fun

The use of his first artifact is
         to eclipse the Inner Sun
The purpose of the second is for
         tearing holes so light may run

Through an ever looming darkness
         which obscures the thought of hope
Extending brittle olive branches
         or frayed lengths of climbing rope, so

That his ploys will surely tempt you
         that you'll try, and that you'll fail
Til his sadistic plotting leaves you
         feeling withered, weak, and frail

So joyously, he toys with thee,
         to watch his sullen victim
And thrives upon the notion that
         thou never wilt evict him

For how such lavish luxury
         couldst ever thou afford
When thou art but a lowly serf
         and He, a mighty Lord?

But if you only knew the truth
         it'd surely set you free!
That deep below the surface
         he is you, and you are he.

So, discipline this phantom
         tell him that you've had enough!
He struggles in control of you
         but you have called his bluff!

So now, you shatter chains that bind you
         now you break the psychic yoke
So now, you seize from him the dagger
         now you rip to shreds the cloak.
This is a poem is loosely based upon the Jungian archetype of the shadow. In analytical psychology, the shadow is the dark side of the psyche, which is typically repressed, and must be faced in order for the psyche to mature into individuation.

In Jung's own words: "The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge, and it therefore,. as a rule, meets with considerable resistance. Indeed, self-knowledge as a psychotherapeutic measure frequently requires much painstaking work extending over a long period."

In the context of this poem, the shadow plays the role of the saboteur, who undermines the efforts of the ego below the level of consciousness, and ultimately deludes the ego into self deprecation. However, as the ego enters into a period of reflection, it comes to recognize the shadow and its effects on the process of psychic life, ultimately taking the first steps toward confronting the shadow and breaking its negative conditioning.

It is also worth noting that this piece is highly experimental for me, especially in its oscillation between archaic and contemporary usage. I will continue to edit, revise, amend, and re-write it as I see fit. And, after all, I still have quite a bit of Jungian theory to catch up on. However, I think this is a good start.
Erick Jan 2019
The mind conceals inner depths.
A broken psyche, a shadow of death.
Trying to fill the void.

Wander lost under the veil.
A shadow casts a broken sail.
Steering towards the abyss.

Fearing the unknown.
Embrace the shadow I've been told.
Seeking harbor far from home.
Bad Luck Sep 2018
Devilish torment -- her body is my lament.
She crawls beneath the cracks and finds
The dark cellar, where my "worst" ferments.
She feeds it as it rots,
Just to make its wine more bitter . . .
Squeezed from the finest lies,
        Designed to make an addict from a quitter.

Like a dark and tempting vacuum
                That my soul cannot escape,
Attractive in its repulsion,
                 It's a part of me that loves the way it hates.
Masturbatory and selfish,
With a thirst that can't be quenched . . .
She finds the spots within me,
                   That make even deities flinch.
Their knees crack and crumble,
                   At its all-consuming "nothing". . .
I never knew my zero could be so wholly unbecoming.

She, or it, will surely be my undoing.
Yet, somehow, that keeps me moving.
So uncomfortably I'll admit . . .
It's the brutal nature of it all,
That I find so disturbingly soothing.
"Bad Luck: In a Wakeful Contradiction" is now available on Amazon in paperback!

Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
in times of
complete
and utter ruin

the image that
runs laps
around my head

is that of:

eric andre
staring
into nothingness

and hannibal buress
screaming
for help
this show
is not comedy

it is the psyche
in a sitcom
Sorin L Javerin Oct 2018
Sleep...
How wonderful your call,
Yet for me you do not ring,
For what reason do you stall?
Why can't I hear you sing?

My eyes are heavy yet not,
My body cold and numb,
My bed is soft unlike that cot,
Why dou you not come...

Sleep...
              Sleep....
                             Sleep....

Not for me....
Why cant I just dream
Of the worlds I cannot see,
The ones just beyond the seam.

My body fight beyond it's brink,
Pushing against what it needs,
The sleep I wish to sink,
The relief that only sleep breeds.

Then why must my thoughts slip
Back towards the words i said,
Words said as a quip,
Words that anger did wed.

Why must I think always think...
Think think think...
What good comes from the brink?
What thoughts are drowned in a sink?

I do not now....

But for now...

Sleep has finally called me,
But the only button I have
Is the red button of tonight,
And now the dark consumes all...
EP Robles Sep 2018
IF  my  f o o t
      f
          a l ls
  beside a metaMAGICAL-\
super-luminous   h e a r t
   say i ate  equations
of the deepest  soulMIND
  in nature   IF the simple
call it  "nature"  let  my
    even/-KIND heart whisper
,"sir, to do because they
cannot mean more --
  the weeds and gossamer
which emotions (while) mind
  immeasurably roots
between sounds of lovers
  and music and wine and smoke
~~ all these souls!
MINDS and eyes of these
  who listen-life    say:

  "______"
if my  f o o t
     f
       a l l s
  beside a metaMAGICAL!

:: 09-10-2015 ::
:: Rev: 09-20-2018 ::
Life is magical.  It is more than our minds can imagine it to be.
julianna Sep 2018
Maybe if you hydrate my psyche with a kiss, I won’t thirst anymore.
renniedreams Jul 2018
A harsh breath ices over my soul
which shrivels up but refuses to cease
My ruby jewel running a wicked race
the end of which is never told
The owner of the gust is not me
For from the skeletal society it be

Someone has died in satisfaction
his life taken by asphyxiation
A crow comes close by to roost
near the man held with the noose
Expectations formed a hemp binding
Pressure pushed the strings holding

Another shattered from hypothermia
his mind no longer in hysteria
Fangs of a beast cacaphonously crash
but soon fade as the man a hash
Lack of human warmth drained
Pathos of his predicament claimed

One more exploded onto cold concrete
jumping free from a tight restraint
Belligerent buzzing blasts through
feeding on crimson blood just drew
Endless horizons rest on the tower
man consumed by endless power

I took my hand and grasped rubber
carbon-iron alloy spelling trouble
At my chest I flash the deliverer
aiming at one who is none the wiser
You can hear a thunderclap and the rain
for life from this lad has been drain

I jest.

Human nature dictates we protect
even if our minds are not intact
My spirit may be wholly extinguished
but to the bitter end my flesh pulsated
Only in dreams can I **** myself
for then I can expose my unhealth
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