"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend XXIII "

You theme you are the only one and crap
A conscious **** excreting mindflex mobile
Bone bag commercially impregnated
With a semblance of life called existence
Firmly pegged in this moments suffering
Or relief of suffering called happiness
By most swimmers in the we turbulent
Through cause and calmed through cause to each their own
Journey a needless needful thing of our
Humanity etcetera moving
So we must go no where or now here to
Be the undiscovered country glowing
Light forms solidifying matter forms
Melting cyclic wonderment of what's this

I don't know how I met you. Inspired.
It's like you appeared out of the thin air.
Newly created...

I held my own, just barley,
As you looked at me, across your dinner table at mid day or earlier.
Like it was early in the morning even though it wasn't.
Fresh and geeky, tidy and neat, And on a mission!
You smiled, laughed and winced in my general direction.
I answered your questions, one worded like.
You answered mine before I even asked, I was mystified.
You're like a feather, from a native chiefs head dress,
Dipped in ink,
Then blown onto a piece of paper made of pure flexible gold,
Written into existence by divine inscription.
Dawson Creek...

I made a sculpture. Five so far,
I cut my thumb, multiple times on this one, multiple times.
Sorry. To number five and to myself,
Bad skills, bad counter-pressure,
Blood, scars, band-aids.
Blood on five, scars on me,
Pouce Coupe...

Between for me equals the space between,
Between Dawson Creek and Grand Prairie,
Like Pouce Coupe, is "cut thumb", in french.
A mother tongue language of somewhere in me, undiscovered.
English is my Papa tongue, the language of, "let's get things done!"
Both pretty good. One definitely more productive! Go!
Pouce Coupe, the undiscovered middle ground.
A french name for an English town.
Pouce Coupe...

Like this sculpture,
Art from the space between, Like the memory of you,
My "lost" friends,
Memories like driving there and home again.
Through memory lane.
It's like Pouce Coupe, the memory of you.
Like the scar, the cut thumb, the memories good and all my bad.
And somewhere in between I'll meet you all again,
Most likely in "Pouce Coupe".
The unpredictable space between,
Pouce Coupe...

I feel lost,
forgotten,
undiscovered,
disregarded,
neglected, and
past recollection.
I am stuck in
Painful Oblivion.

I want to breath the "Missing" of you out of me!
I want to see the shape of that outside my body!
I want to feel its texture...
I want to talk to it...
                   I am wondering!
Would I manage to do so!
Would I hear its voice to break that silence of words!
                   Am I sane!
Am I living for loving, loving for living!
I know one thing!
I am the Love that is still Undiscovered/unknown!

one--two--covered streams,
staining palms of the undiscovered,
they have holes in ears--for you--their mouths are wide--wide--open--!
yet they hide 'neath tender shield.

peekaboo, I don't see you.
for the flowers cry not for the see-ers,
but for the cut and tears.

bite into your wrist,
and watch the ache and finished work flow,
into ******* and tired vocab,
as it is merely zilch you're destined to grow.

wide--wide open,
yet you bawl not,
how will you get your food now, O dear?
simply let the ocean run hot.

they will not bother with whiners,
whose lips that starve,
the words now old timers,
and the blood that was carved.

dig deep--dig deep, my love,
and find nothing but ash.
die penniless--die penniless, O dove,
and thrive on the sunken ****.

they drink eulogies,
from soft gray tongues,
and murmur carelessly,
for the young-uns.

the world won't wait--
forever moves it--
**** the weak--the hard workers,
and take up the one shot-ers.

simply how the horse drinks it's water,
and how the earth soaks in rain.
nothing--nothing--nothin' but minor,
and disappointing.

simplicity rings the loudest bell,
and thought sings drooping tunes.
for the world hides not and tells.

and blossoms melt in places anew,
merely brainless--brainless--!
and the shield slips from blue.

for now the world is clear,
and doesn't care for the sanguine ruin in those eyes,
let your work fade--let your work fade, my babe,

play peekaboo a little longer, and drag the sword between the lies.

unshackled hearts
are easily lost
as they wander
in a haphazard dance of
bewildered wonder

My mind isn't big enough for an escape
My mind, I am trapped in a disadvantage

Usually my mind is as big as the universe
But my mind, is discourage

My mind, my mind, holding on to courage
Making my way to uncover

Another path of undiscovered