Strong on my own.
This is my song.
Yeah, I can fight the world.
Used to think I couldn't stand,
Didn't yet know who I am.
My knees used to shake,
Never really wide awake.
Lost with a map in my hands,
And I never even needed it.

Yeah, I don't need the sun to see.
Let go of who I used to be.
I don't need anything to be me.
So this is who I am.
Take me or leave me,
I don't need your hand.
I stand tall on my own,
My light shines from within.
I'll walk through this shadowland.
Make the world sing hand in hand.
Dance with the shadows,
Cuz they won't bring me down.
I'll light up this shadowland,
My body like a disco ball,
My soul brighter than the sun.

Strong on my own,
I'll find my own way,
Through the dark,
Through the shadows.
When I broke I shattered.
I saw how frail I was.
Frozen by my own fears,
I didn't recognize myself.
So low I couldn't even see,
This beautiful world around me.

Yeah, I don't need the sun to see.
Let go of who I used to be.
I don't need anything to be me.
So this is who I am.
Take me or leave me,
I don't need your hand.
I stand tall on my own,
My light shines from within.
I'll walk through this shadowland.
Make the world sing hand in hand.
Dance with the shadows,
Cuz they won't bring me down.
I'll light up this shadowland,
My body like a disco ball,
My soul brighter than the sun.

I was a candle in the rain.
A shooting star under the sea.
A snowflake on the sun.
I was invisible and unseen.
Just another body in the shadows.
Now I step to my own beat.
Speak words from my heart.
Write my own script.
Sing my own song.
Because I'm stronger on my own.

Yeah, I don't need the sun to see.
Let go of who I used to be.
I don't need anything to be me.
So this is who I am.
Take me or leave me,
I don't need your hand.
I stand tall on my own,
My light shines from within.
I'll walk through this shadowland.
Make the world sing hand in hand.
Dance with the shadows,
Cuz they won't bring me down.
I'll light up this shadowland,
My body like a disco ball,
My soul brighter than the sun.
I don't need anything to be me.
This is who I am.

I stand tall on my own.
Light bursting from within.
Strut through this shadowland.
Make the world sing hand in hand.
Dance with the shadows.
No one brings me down.
Yeah, no one brings me down.
No one brings me down.

Fooling clouds cross my view
passing hurts and pleasures,
blue on white on white on blue.
'till black has broken through.

I dreamt that it
finally died last night,
that it was truly over.

Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away.
Until I could no longer see
that place I started from
and I no longer knew
the place I was headed to.

Now, I gather stones
for the tomb,
while with wilful eyes
study my peers.
Lips pursed tight...
they have closed their hearts,
closed up tight to my falling tears.

Yes, it is I,
it is me I cry,
feeling condemned
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.

Heavy as the Christ's cross,
responsible for all souls lost.

Then I stumble and I fall,
as I carry my burden upward
to Golgotha of the Skull.

If to think is to act
then burning after the crash,
the fire's orange glow
brings forth the desire to let go.

Letting go,
why does it have to be so
hard     to come by.
Leaving me to feel
so    hard    done   by.

A selfish act,
done not from class,
no more from strength
than from some weakness.

An action out of chaos
in the absence of bliss.

The Shadowland,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person.
Asking of today
to stride with a limp,
and of yesterday
to crawl and beg.

Forgiveness
would be the task at hand.

A ticket for
some far and
distant shore,
safe passage away
from Shadowland.

Bent, but unbroken,
while the pain of its death runs deep.

Not until
hatred is spent
and words of kindness
are spoken,
will forgiveness  be complete.

Only one way to forgive,
that would be completely.
Only one way to live,
that would be completely.

Anything else
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.

And so, it remains
that for me to be free,
I cross the threshold of forgiveness
standing ready to turn the key.

Fooling clouds cross my view
passing hurts and pleasures.
Blue on white on white on blue
'till black has broken through.

I dreamt that it
finally died last night,
that it was truely over.

Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away
until I could see no longer
that place where I started from
and I no longer knew
that place I was headed to.

Now,
I gather stones
for my tomb,
while with willfull eyes
study my peers,
lips pursed tight
they have closed their hearts,
closed up tight
to my falling tears.

Yes,
it is I,
it is me, I cry,
feeling condemed
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.

Heavy as Christ's cross
responsible for all souls lost.

Then,
I stumble
and I fall
as I carry the burden upwards
to Golgotha of the skull.

If to think
is to act
then burning
after the crash,
the fire's glow
brings forth
the desire to let go.

Letting go,
why does it have
to be so
hard    to come by.
leaving me so
hard      done      by.

A selfish act,
done not from class,
no more from strenght
than from a weakness.

An action out of chaos
in the absence of bliss.

The ShadowLand,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person,
asking of today
to stride
with a limp,
and of yesterday,
to crawl and beg.

Forgiveness
would be
the task in hand.

A ticket for
some far
and distant shore.

Safe passage away
from ShadowLand.

Bent,
but not broken,
while the pain
of its death
runs deep.

Not until
hatred is spent
and words
of kindness
are spoken
will forgiveness
be complete.

Only one way to forgive,
that would be, completely.

Only one way to live,
that would be completely.

Anything less
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.

And so it remains
that for me to be free,
I stand at the threshold
of forgiveness
and stand ready
to turn the key.....

© 1999

All Rights Reserved

Fooling clouds
cross my view
passing hurts
and pleasures.
Blue on white
on white on blue,
'till black has
broken through.

I dreamed that
it finally died last night,
that it was truly over.

Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away,
until I could see no longer
that place I started from,
and I no longer knew
that place I headed to.

Now, I gather stones
for my tomb,
while with willful eyes
study my peers,
lips pursed tight,
they have closed
their hearts,
closed up tight
to my falling tears.

Yes,
it is I,
it is me I cry.
Feeling condemned
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.
Heavy as Christ's Cross,
responsible for all souls lost.

Then,
I stumble
and I fall
as I carry
the burden upward
to Golgotha of the Skull.

The ShadowLand,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person.
Asking of today
to stride with a limp,
and of yesterday,
to crawl and beg.

Forgiveness
would be
the task at hand.
A ticket for
some far and distant shore.
Safe passage away
from ShadowLand.

Bent,
but unbroken,
while the pain
of its death
runs deep.

Not until
hatred is spent
and words of
kindness are spoken
will forgiveness
be complete.

Only one way to forgive,
that would be completely.
Only one way to live,
that would be completely.

Anything less
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.

And so it remains
that for me to be free,
I cross the threshold
of forgiveness
standing ready
to turn the key.

A Reading from the Book of Puppets

Her
Ventriloquist venom is never ending
engineering every word I should say

Pity me as her words drip down from my mouth
Look to me... my paralyzing awkwardness admonishes all attempts at paucity  

the ***** of vernacular continues
Manifest as a million babble born words
look at her and you’ll know why
Would you sell your soul
if you spoke staccato and she smiled sadistic?

And when she’s not there
I lay prostrate on the railroad tracks
of her impending presence
restrained
and retrained in the tailisman rope of your arrival
Look there now, a Tongue tied in knots, a mind firing (shots)
I am reduced
she is labyrinthine, in both style, and substance,
a sapiosexual maze, a soothing syrup mixed with
biter bile


why then does
nothing feel better than to see her smile
Why validate her pleasure
with my defeats?
Stuck and ****** into a singular melodious smile, the tune of which I can’t help but dance to

Why? Because at the end of the day

your eyes jut out
candelabras in defiance the night
notifying the world
of all you want but have yet to receive
a shallow existence .... a marked man... a million morbid motifs
made of mucus and stuttered star beams

You are that rare being, a glimpse at myself both wretched and alluring
A soul already tainted::: still I seek to embrue, the boredom
I am voiceless
in this decaffinated life

a tendril of hair
a woman domestic
a shadowland chaser
a light that’s poetic
The addictive tape worm of my soul

cdh

i had not gone fishing that night.

the sun was down, with dark clouds hovering low.
me, in my rudderless boat, staring at the sky.
was i thinking of fish?  I think i was just lost at sea.

i was thinking, (well, i don't remember exactly)
caught up in a brief break in the clouds.  the stars
were out, shining their shining.   i saw them,
but didn't.  i was looking for the moon, her full, hovering
beauty imprinted still on my mind.

but this night, the moon was but a sliver of light, and i...
i was without remorse.  i had come to that place of understanding
that the moon's light neither waxes nor wanes within the confines of
shadow.  she becomes invisible in this shadowland, and perhaps this
is for the best, for who can take the beauty of the moon on a starless
night and call her their own?  she was not mine to have.

and the tide, it pulled me in, it pushed me out;  this motion set about
by the moon. (oh, my moon!)  

i looked out, saw the waves come lapping gentle onto my boards.
the crash and slap, the rocking of my boat, shook me from
my reverie.  i looked down, saw these dreams gasping at my feet.

oh, beautiful dreams born of moon and tide, how did you land here,
and why?  i saw your gasping, your grasping at calming waters.

who was i to return you to your sea?  
i was only a lost and rudderless boat.  
i had not gone fishing that night;
i was no fisherman.

yet i took you home, slipped you into my
warm, salty waters and called you my own.

deep shadow
cool, quiet, removed and safe
from here observe... be numb
and recover
the longer i stay ...the less  i want to leave
it’s easier resting here in half light ...half life
it beckons ..dances and licks at the edges of shadow
not ready yet… please ...not yet...more time
shadows deepen...but light’s roar… i hear it… it won’t leave me alone

@journeyofdays

escape with me, starry-eyed
a smoky shadowland
where sin is infinite
hell warmly embraced
and lust a syrupy *****.

desire is so crookedly pristine
when untouched by
the ugly delusion you call love

luring, seducing
the inky ebony of eve
coaxes us sweetly, chillingly
to join its empty prisoners --

passion aches
inject me with your raven smoke;
crave me,
consume me

come and dip with me in the night
where our veiled vices can find relief;
its venom will feed my impure nocturne
and your wicked clutches can snake into
the perverse piths of my phantasm and person.

A mere illusion.
Mosaic shadowland in black and grey;
Yet in this silent world
Cottages stand, sunwashed,
Long after their demise.

Lured by the past
I wish to enter cool dark doorways;
To draw back faded curtains
And scent the wood-smoke
Within those secret walls.

Forgotten dandies
Watch from under crow-black stovepipe hats;
Memories of Waterloo
As fresh as Vietnam.
The Mutiny still unborn.

Moments after this
Stolen faded second, they turned away
Down Sheep Street to the 'Dog Inn';
For Porter and cold beef.
A clay pipe and cider.

Silent halted streets
****** back to vanished life and rural din,
The reek of horse and men
Now past recall. Lost
Moments. Gone forever.

While in her ghost garden,
Close by the gate and vanished red brick wall.
Anne Wheler, dressed in crinoline
And broad silk ribbons, keeps her
Rendezvous with my gaze.

_ \ | / _

     In shadowland we
    are all safe at noon,
  when bad ombre's go
into hiding from the sun.

You know
I held you
I felt you
I wrapped you up
And unstitched my skin
With invisible scissors
For you to slip into
To imbue
Like glue
I stayed
steadfast and ready
I held on for dear life
Through your restless night
My feet contoured around yours
My arms a blanket in your dreams
Small brown birds
For hands
That fluttered
A delicate mess
Of visions
To loud for your
Eyes
closed
Your head in my shoulder
Body curled
You
So small
So big
Love
Needing
And me
So wanting
To be there
In truth
Consoling and Chaste.
I breathed you in
And presented my presence
Like never before
I opened a door
That then became dust
A shadowland trust
Forged dark in the dawn
Of y(our) sorrow.

her naked self is in her thoughts
as she lingers on my shoulder
that perfumed ideal dances in the dim light
with a madness of lust
she will be bound to the fractured movement
she will be mastered by the faster slow tides of ******
its love she seeks in the darkness of its eye
its warmth she sees in the burning cold

uncertainty and fear is what lures her
follow that mindless beast to its lair
and open herself with abandon
to its demon intent and its filthy seed
surrender is the victory
in this reverse of shadows mindgame
its her naked self in her thoughts

i suffer at the thought of her pain
but she smiles and leads me on into
that shadowland where
the monsters feeding is the pleasure
the beast suckling on the tender is the prize

this face is a stranger to me
this woman is a monster unto herself
this woman is a dark dreamland
this woman i love
asks me to take her there again and again
beyond the light of reason
beyond her naked self of her thoughts

So the world spins
Inner discourse thinning
In the wake of daylight
Muted blues shift crimson
And the halcyon light floods my vision
I remain saturnine
The inner tenebrae of my dusky soul
My personal shadowland
sedulous manifestos etched
across my heart
the tattooed movement
cadence of oblivion
stained by the purpura
Of bleeding dreams

Apollo rides grandiose
Careening orb obliterates the dusk
Yet my eyes rain
myriad tears chase themselves
forever obedient to that same gravity
leaving me face down
with nothing but wet earth
and seeds dormant
full of promise that never blooms
My heart in the darkness
Of a shuttered room

TLB 092308

The Anguish

An old memory inhabits the shadowland
she had a headache, doctors made tests, yes, her case was fatal
After the funeral, her sister arranged coffee and cakes
and sandwiches.
Relatives eyed the furniture and her many dresses
since most of the things in the flat had belonged to the departed
some of the stuff would fall to them.
I found this distressing and hoped the wake would be over
they did leave and left me to do the washing up.
Her presence was strong, she filled my thoughts was as
I could hear her talk.
Gradually she let go and got her golden memory of love.

_ \ | / _

     In shadowland we
    are all safe at noon,
  when bad ombre's go
into hiding from the sun.

attempt to break thru Hadrian's Wall
while roam'n across cyberspace of urban sprawl
dark shadows spill across
the outer limits of the twilight zone
whereby edge of night
creeps brow of me, a Neanderthal!

Yours truly self proclaimed
er calculating polymath
no win no campy intent to kindle,
or spark hay8 full ire rate wrath
juiced whiling away
the early evening hour hath
horror hived this then February
twenty second two thousand eighteen,
revised this early afternoon of August 24th,
two thousand twenty fourth
nah scared to take a bath.

The Process (is a Process All Its Own)
self accomplishments, I modestly credit
a disembodied humble liberal spirit
eye up ply applies
to brainstorming with zest to whit
barn storming across das plains of google
to pitchfork embers tuff flickr tinder lee
with smart poetic dip pose zit
tool loom hen ate interior darkness
where lurks the monstrous akin to Perdido
otherwise known as perdition,

especially Native American
linkedin as The Buffalo Hunter
pseudonym adopted by Ballard and Sandrine,
The Green Woman, whose Side predicted to win
Pork Pie Hat predicated on Feng Shui yang and yin
force fields property aligned creates A Special Place
predominantly filled with A Dark Matter
only known (bee you wick), i.e.,The Skylark,
and of course Poe's Children, totaling 5 Stories
helpful to down with a chaser
viz - The Little Blue Book Of Rose Stories
Ideally red (red) in The Night Room,
where an unsuspected parvenu
absconded with Lost Boy, Lost Girl
housing Magic Terror, but interestingly
one must ask - Isn't It Romantic?

Via the perspective Looking Back
feigning to be combination of Mr. X, and/or
and Mrs. God innocent looking people
yet, the progenitors of The Hellfire Club
burnt offerings indistinguishable from Blue Rose
fragrance or melancholy Ghosts
resembling trumpeting Floating Dragon
invoking grabbing by The Throat sensation
Where spirits flit to and fro
throughout neighborhood Houses Without Doors

and games without frontiers
this...a millennial Mystery
unlike the generic Ghost Story,
the main anti protagonist and/or
pro antagonist, nonetheless named Koko
who calls The Juniper Tree home,
especially eerie Under Venus
provoking Wild Animals
kickstarting rolling stones
to run berserk at lightspeed

en masse Black Sabbath
bestirs cries and whispers
proto, pseudo psychedelic
quint essence ova thermocouple
holographic images hypnotizing
vista as Shadowland
explicit formula generating
happy interracial Marriages
nah...ha - ah, the joe cuz on ewe
especially, If You Could See Me Now!