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Bardo May 31
We were in this small cafe on our morning
   tea break
Me and some of my work colleagues
Someone inquired after my wellbeing
How I was
I motioned with my hand as if to say 'So, so"
Then I said
"I'm still a bit shaky"
'Why", they said, "what happened to you ?"
I answered "I was in a car crash last night"
"What!!!", they all said really concerned, "you shouldn't have come to work today, you should have stayed at home... you might be in
Then I said 'It was only a dream'. I went on "Yea, I dreamt I was in a car
I was driving down this terrible winding
   mountain road
Like something you'd get over in Italy
It was like a spiral staircase, going round and
All these terrible bends
And the car it's getting faster and I know I'm
   starting to lose control
So for a moment I look down trying to figure
   out the controls
But suddenly when I look up again we've
   overshot a Bend
And We're heading straight into a wall
It's like everything goes into slow motion
You know there's no avoiding it
You can only brace yourself for the impact
And then BAM!! POW**!!! .....
And then I can't remember what happened
   after that.
Maybe I became unconscious"....then looking
   at them all around the table I said
"Maybe I'm still unconscious, maybe I'm just dreaming you guys sitting here
   right now
Maybe the dreamworld is the real world
And the real world but a dream...(tapping my finger on the table) a solid dream"
Then I took a sip of my coffee and said
"One thing...the coffee tastes nicer over on
  this side".
Another nightmare dream. Break on through to the Other Side meets Adventures in the Skin Trade LoL.
irinia Jan 1
one into many &
many into one

the bird of paradise
half truth and half lie
it's not pure fiction
but pure singing
or intensity of the dark light

this vibration of your U(nconscios)
is a floating vessel
(sunk into mystery)
for my dreams
mine is for yours and for her
and for them
this is the way we meet
It's scary and wonderful
to recognize each other
some mirrors are crazy
light hides itself best in the dark
and darkness hides itself
best in the brightest of lights

there are too many layers
of liquid meanings in this
creature called life -
the same way
the ocean is carrying
different layers of
pressure and dark

the bird of paradise
dissolves itself
into singing cause
this is the only way
to meet its music
a bird constantly changing
the shape of its wings
to accomodate danger -
the danger of being alive
on your own
day after night
the bird of paradise exists only
in poetry which distills the irrationality of life
reality protects itself with boundaries
for poetry not to destroy its might
Mol Dec 2022
Oh, hello itch,
I've not missed you!
Nor your pleading, uneasy,
Eager smile,
Wicked begging eyes,
And hungry open mouth.
I've quite enjoyed this past while,
Lacking your insistent whispers.
Your lustful face
Looming round each corner of my boxed up,
Broken brain -
'FRAGILE - Do Not Break'
Ignored by the world -
Allowing you unforced entry,
You made a home
Hidden in the shadow
Of my unconscious darkness.
Fitfully coming to light
To remind me
Of yours and therefore my own;
Plea to die.
irinia Nov 2021
he would have discovered him
trying to change the water formula in his tears
he tried to exist/insist/resist
where no body was thinking
the man without moon
suspended in a terrorizing labyrinth of faces
His own
he was a method man
growing salt in his eyes like minefields
teaching it the taste of the earth
anxiety like mountains of fog eradicating crossroads
he wants to exist inside the body of the world
with the decency of negotiated desires
and the hands get lost in translation
truth is a black truffle
sweating and swearing
sensuous craters perhaps
he killed many singing birds
searching for imagination, his body
muted, renegotiated soon after birth
staying alive, denying the soul of zebras
He lacks verbs, some nouns
learning from the theory of absence
how the effortless U(n-conscious)
is a Poet that
rhymes the body with the mind
of the world

He summoned the shaman, the artists, the tango teacher
to the wake of his body
while learning how summer waves contribute to a theory of mind
his self white
white while forgetting Magritte,
a taxi for Chopin
or the whiteness of the cotton pickers
Glenn Currier Aug 2021
The feeling of fear meeting someone for the first time
the delight looking at a little child playing
near ecstasy smelling a magnolia blossom
a secure feeling upon seeing Pampas Grass.

The unsafe feeling being with the blonde man
who had been nothing but kind to me
then… finally I remembered
the sandy-haired boy who made an object of me
at age seven behind the barn on a summer day.

So much of the self is hidden
chaining me to the old
keeping me in a caterpillar state
stumbling over chunks of earth
ignorant of what can happen
in the cocoon.

But learning, writing, remembering
can make me a Monarch
flying into spring.
I bow to Ray C. Stedman and his article: “The Great Mystery” and to Melanie Durand Grossman’s memoire, “Crossing Bayou Teche,” that brought a kind of enlightenment to her, her cousins, and others. The book effected in some of us a new awareness and freedom from formerly hidden realities that had shackled us to the past. This poem is part of my Teche series.
TomDoubty Apr 2021
In deepening dream a dark moon song
Careening oration  to the reeling inside
of flickering film, burning fast celluloid
An internal tribute to a time now past

Adrift at dawn  the dervish swoops its
whirling and whining an awesome spectre
enraged she raps her raw knuckles
Pushing apart deepest self

Seeing in sleep the shadow of my daylight
That blinds me habitually; subliminally she
Speaks the script to a censored play
I’ve never seen.
TomDoubty Apr 2021
Unmoved everything is leaden
My thoughts are dry
Striving like a ship in a bladderwrack sea
My vanity is death to creativity

Give me lonesome insanity
And the truth in delirium dreams

Give me  truth that hammers in torrents
At the warped deck

Give me truth that seeps and runs
To the lowest point

Truth that  opens clouds
Rolls back seas
Revealing slime-rock ****-whipped  me

Give me the humming in the womb
The beating in the drum
That settled in my ancestor’s ear

Distant sounds, drawing near
All energy comes from the same well
every whim wrought
whims not
while sitting on a fiery throne
or cast out onto frosted stone
buy or sell
It's drawn from the same well
close your eyes
what color is it?
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