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  Nov 2022 Naceur Ben Mesbah
Steve
Painting thoughts inside my head
Picking pockets from the day ahead
I get lost in space
Thoughts caught on my daily walk
Strolling around my mind
How much of me - gets left behind?
How much will be left to find?
Looking through me to another time
Eyes that knew me, past their prime
Keeping fit, bit by bit
And thinking it all through
Where to go and what to do
Looking out for something new
Another story with a better end
A different outcome, a better blend.
But here’s the sting; if I could
I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Found and lost at once,
immediate
inbetweenity, here, not there
in a way, in the air, expired

whoosh, shush and remember
the wonder lost,
when the boy who wished never
to grow old
with this now to
remain the time of our lives, when
not knowing keeps us safe,
and our guides into ever on go, ever
be
holding, ever eyewise-touching
the face of God,
big g.

Time and joy, Edwardian Gay Hebrew
repressed as zeitgeist calling for
"lovely, wonderfull thoughts"

infantile omnipotence, 700 million light
geotimed timid old ideas

The author imagines the same vision
one way, plain, unencoded

white wolves in a walnut tree
freud interpretted the unconscious wish source

ah, it was the witnessing of *** enacted, eh?
I think we may have granted Herr Freud
more credence than guesses are often allowed.

Is this not the same social act as when
any knowledge is claimed by faith in the answer
accepted

inner being, outer shown, reflective seeing
the world we see, we agree to see,
this is that, you see,
I say, literally living in word alone, a nobody

founding one fair-made tale, of favors owned, shrinking

death in the brothers wish, where the dead man
I recall as always handsome, though I never knew him.

I was such a liar, so ready to say true a not-ever-true

Having no success that makes history,
hold no certain truth that certainly made me
choose
to wish to
be an author of the faith I pour out

clap your hands if you believe
in fair
ways found oddly marked in the peace
found in old

"better to have had less ambition"

Thinking as a child, not as the old man, watching
slight smile
forming the setting for the scene, making much

of being a little boy, once, as a story
sifted from another, seeping into solution.

Yes the spirit of my time has been my friend,
for, most of the ways I wished to learn,
now are in my grasp, well within my reach, mine
and that of my Artistical Intuitive Muse,
ever aiming my morning at the mercy on the edge
of one day alone
with you,

lost in youth's untutored virginity
or something, impatient, yes, I'd wait… perfect moments
are rare,
but do occur, if your aim is close..
Some time ago
The day I fell in love
   With you,
       I had four of my ribs
 Broken.
       Could that be a love
  Token?
  Oct 2022 Naceur Ben Mesbah
Lexie
Lay next to me
While I go
To the bottom of my mind
Breathe in helium, oxygen, moonlight
Consciousness, floating to the ceiling
I am dreaming, lucid
I am watching the world
In third person, in black and gray
Small matters of the mind
Busy bodies following patterns
Mouths reciting scripts
It is mundane
When I looking through, glass
Panel of my own mind
First person
That is when I see, horrors
Technicolor
I bare it badly as it were gospel
These nightmares an unholy conquest
Against my consciousness
~
Storms make grey the sea
And erode the surface of the shore

Cold resentful icebergs
Outside my window
A field of sinking liquid caskets
Closing in on me

I hear the sound
Of toy pianos underwater
Remnants of their music keep
Washing up on achromatic beaches

Songs that made love shine
Have fallen into shipwreck
A missing charter's rusted hull
Casts the one color heaven allows

Storms make grey the sea
And erode the stages of the sun

~
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