"mesmer" poems
In the first two watches
of dark Gethsemane
while Y'shua prayed for us
His lamps went out
and so He roused them
Encouraged vigilance
Again they succumbed
On the third watch
He just let them sleep
and see them slumber still
snoring through the final watch...
the watch whose number
calls forth Meshiakh
Those who've come to take Him away
are at the gate
yet still the mammon mesmer
blisses on
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 4:24 AM UTC
I knew, that you, were different too, right from the very start
In awe, time stopped, my jaw dropped, as I gazed on live art
If you, were on the menu as a dish, I'd order you a la carte
So if I was granted one last wish, before we are forced to part...
It would be for one last kiss, just place your perfect lips upon mine
Our atoms simply cannot resist, as our bodies embrace and intertwine
For a moment, I know true bliss, as shivers race up and down my spine
I'm blessed to have you to miss, an angel's intervention from the divine
Under her glance, I don't even stand a chance
As I'm hypnotized by her Mesmer eyes
thoughts enhance as my mind begins to dance
And to no surprise, I am Tranquil-Eyezed
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
A tattered soul journeys.
Awaken the sleeping gods.
Jaded fragments of the whole.
Moonlight trickles down.
Smell of burning amber.
The night deflowered.
A fluorescent bolt.
The dismal void crackles.
Lightning brands the sky.
Supine on porcelain.
In a mesmer of cold.
Sensations surge.
Blankly whispering eyes.
Tracing the cracks.
A starless ceiling.
Music snakes about.
A dreary tangle.
Rhyme and melody.
Sober thoughts clamour.
Awash with miasma .
Sordid with memories.
Slivers of imagination.
Mares in the shadow.
My dire soul slumbers.
Emotions at the gallows.
Staircase spirit dialogues.
Coffee cup delusions.
Jaded fragments of the whole.
Awaken the sleeping gods.
A tattered soul journeys.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
Skeletons of shadow teach me anatomy from inside the ark.
Quiet. Old women at the double doors. So dark, the sanctum.
Heaven is stained glass. Fold your paper hands, your husband
Mumbles under the preacher's emphysema. On the mic,
Occasional screams of raspy black-and-white noise. Screams.
How He screams. Red-faced Church-parent. Little Easter bows,
The snarling bouquets who sting and follow the grass-green Moon.
Of the ten mounted fans, only one stays awake enough to listen,
Awake enough to hope to catch every particle of sleeping dust.
We were made from dust. The mountains too. I can't see.
The concrete days. Cinders and spiders and cracking tile.
Roaring, wailing, proliferating my thick umbra in the mesmer flask.
When the door opens, how will I feel? Glass and sandstone.
Will I have my face or someone else's? Eight faces by four.
How will I taste? Cinnamon and lapis.
Will I have angles or planes? Metric and function.
Little, silver words trail fingers through me, trace me, and cement me.
I glisten once and then am spent.
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 7:08 PM UTC
I dreamed a dream of you
In countless grains of sand
Along forgotten shores
And distant memories
I watched the ocean
In its infinite mesmer
Under a blanket of stars
That never blinked
The storm clouds brewed
Rolled out like the truth
Cold lightning frolicked
And silent thunder rang
I watched the ocean again
As it crashed upon the coast
I knew even in my dreams
We stood on distant shores
The sun has long since set
The night, too, has died
Daybreak will come soon
Over cracked horizons
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
Your fingers of mesmer
Trace patterns on me,
Your words are the pavement;
Your eyes are the sea
Treading in words
That flood to the brink;
Your presence, my muse
Your essence, my ink.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
He is above understanding altogether.He is the greatest mesmer. Always. Ever. A mystery. Above rationality by countless staircases. Square on the ground but floating and flying. In front of me. Behind me. Adjacent and in between. In places that don't even exist. A single thing. Higher and greater than the highest and greatest. He made himself lowest for the low and the nameless. Making many a face for many a faceless man. Changing the unchangeable by changing into human skin. His name is Jesus. He is the illuminating dark.He is praised by songs that don't even come from lips. He speaks the language of the universe.After all the universe is language. Likely in verses. "Let there be light" he spoke the words and they were. The universe is language and it's speaking simultaneously. I am drowning in him, not even wanting to breathe, sliding fluidly through a 3D crystal sea that seems to breathe. Surrounded as far as the eye can see, farther than the edge of my dreams. It is kissing me awake and madly maddening me to sleep. He is looking at me lovingly. They are romancing me. A sea of black boxes. Black boxes the colors of rainbows. Thick and smoothe like molten marshmallow, flowing overhead and underfoot, i am begging to be ambushed by their undertow. Square and solid black boxes that flow,like two synchronized streams, in velvet synchronicity, a marriage of both extremes, This is paradox in reality. I am pleading to be painted oblivious but i don't know, maybe i am jaded by invisible star-songs, not even knowing I've spent my life humming along. I'm lost in the knowledge that i do not know. Letting my spirit marvel breathlessly at the breathtaking beauty of my soul. This is the universe. Un-understood and undeniable.
Mar 10, 2012
Mar 10, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
The oblivious avian
Has yet to comprehend
The existence ****** upon him.
Atop his perch,
Peering through the gilded bars
Of his confinement -
He awaits the feeder to be stocked
And chirps
At the idea of assured sustenance,
At the thought that this space,
This place, is his own
Through this glass house he peers -
The cage became a home
And over time hes grown
To accept that life is as it is, but
The life he lived
Was not his,
This collective of feathers
Has failed to see, that
He can live a life,
He can simply be
Devoid of pain and sorrow
But at the cost of not understanding
The use of 'tomorrow'
Or to feel progression
For time has no place
For our fair feathered bird
Whose captivity grasps
Further than he can retrace.
Currency is of no use to him
And time is a human construct
A lack of philosophical conduct
Would argue there is no price
To the life he lives...
His wings are not bound, yet
He is bound from flight
The room is warm at night,
Yet never feels quite right
The songs he sings are
Only replied with echoes
Of what could've been...
As he watches the fireplace nearby -
A mesmer of light
The glimmer in his eyes
Gets just a little less bright.
The epiphanised avian
Has just begun to comprehend
That redemption is ****** upon him.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC
*While you paint I hope you remember that you're more beautiful than art
for the bitter sweet truth that streams from your heart
few have laid eyes upon your heavenly beauty
and I strongly believe finding you was my earthly duty*
**you speak and leave me in labyrinthine mesmer
and I think your scent must be sweeter than any freshner
you're a treasured secret hidden behind closed doors
that's returned me to God, desperately begging to be yours**
*never knew finding such obsessive passion,
just needed an encounter with the right person
I've never wanted to hop onto the next flight
never felt stuck in darkness,yet a minute away from light*
**my only consolation is our existence under the same sky
it's my hope and breath of patience each day that goes by**
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC
The stars were in her eyes
But behind them
Was something far deeper
An infinite black
Sparsely populated
By ageless phenomenon
I witnessed love and hate
Fear and loss
Happiness, joy
And a plethora of emotions
That I could not describe
I saw in her what it truely means
To be a flawed human being
And I could not help
But love her
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
Mark the passage of the Lorelei,
Darkness about her all along,
Fate-spun deeds till the day she dies,
And her ode committed to song.
Her train draped over the boat’s side,
A trail atop the river floating,
Her kindly suitors would not abide,
Overstepped, stooped low in their doting.
Her shifting garment in mesmer hue,
Warps and woofs with onlookers' fancy,
They all believed but none saw true,
Save one, chancing prophecy.
For the Lorelei is death bestride,
A loom to veil the space between,
Her trailing garments as a chord styled,
That only the dead, alive have seen.
In the coming she a dread light,
In the going a pale shade lingers,
She is present in both alike,
Her fruits like twilit fingers.
Should one be so bold,
To chance her on a stair,
Best they cling before they fold,
Into the tresses of her hair.
And drift away to lands unseen,
Adrift from terra fair,
Spirited to a waking dream,
Borne up to the Lorelei’s lair.
Worry not of what you're told,
Of what terror of night can bring,
You like swaddling babe will hold,
And into the darkness sing.
For the leaguer of her bower,
While treacherous and cold,
Is the boundary of the hours,
Of all that might unfold.
Apart and yet more aware,
You may espy the raging sea,
And losing yourself will stare,
At that action which may be.
The lady’s crossing span,
Reaches above and below,
Allowing those who can,
Traverse her tresses’ tow.
And clamour about the heavens,
And rend the wailing deeps,
Scour the land of dead-ends,
Break the bodied heaps.
From her seated hall,
She sees the mighty and the frail,
Aware is she of all,
The deeds that come to fail.
That in their ashes die,
That in their waxing wane,
Whose movers fall and lie,
In their shame profane.
Too many deeds to her eye,
Are snuffed in the crib,
Motionless she will cry,
Our Lady Lorelei,
And dream that you will rise.
Aug 12, 2025
Aug 12, 2025 at 10:32 AM UTC
"What's in the basket?", I asked her...
...she laughed nervously ~ slipped her head to the side. Her eyes looked up, ~ that's when I saw the moon.
I swear I saw the moon,
I pierced through to the moon to see more of the moon.
Moon
Mesmer
Motion
Ocean
Canyon
Quiver
...oh How am I wondering Where I can to Find that something...
and just as I thought I had...it was then I saw a star behind the moon.
I didn't know there was a star behind the moon?
I thought she must know... she has too, right?
Her giggling, widening eyes, coy suggestion, I might be right.
"Why do you always ask me those silly questions we both already know, anyways, Goof,".......she touched my arm as if for stability. Tentatively, gazed up at me with a sideways look.
" I guess I always enjoy a quick trip to your outer space, I always seem to find something New."
".....so, anyways, What's in the basket?"
Instant Time Travel
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
I walk upon the patchwork shadows of the forest floor. My eyes are hypnotized. My stride falls in time with the rhythm of a fickle nature. An open clearing comes across my field of vision, my Mesmer broken by sprawling lawns of soft down green. Like a gleeful child, I run the perimeter of the vast expanse. With eyes skyward I spin around till treetops and sky become one. Loose footing breaks a dizzy tumble to the forest floor. A light head and light mind have I to close my eyes, drift peaceful sleep in heavens bed.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC