"unmasks" poems
*I'm too fixated in each moment -
Each moment feels so intense,
I'm lost
On the dark side of the moon,
And nothing here has any warmth,
Worth or substance ~
Nothing here makes any sense.
Even my own shadow has left me.
The Monsters, still lurking
In the darkness,
Have stolen all of my hopes
And dreams away,
I can hear the wolves,
They are hauntingly howling -
There's nowhere safe that I can run to,
On this, here, dark, dreary day.
There will be no stars
To light up the pitch-black night-skies,
They have already fallen,
Just like the Angels
That I once loved and knew,
Everything that I once held onto
As sacred, has been molested -
I've been abandoned, once again;
Hell, again, I am being forced
To walk through.
Alone, I was born and raised,
Only my pain has been consistent-
It has held my hand
Throughout my entire life.
At some point, somehow,
I stupidly gave birth
To expectations,
Luckily, I woke up
And divorced reality,
Hence becoming solitude's
Dedicated and loving wife.
On the dark side of the moon
Compassion, loyalty and trust
Are nonexistent.
Evil dwells in almost every man
And woman,
Each with his or her own agenda,
Each with his or her own selfish plan.
Saviors do not exist,
Superheroes all wear masks,
Unconditional love is but an illusion,
Here, I revert to relying solely
On the harshness of reality,
For, the truth, it always exposes
And unmasks.
The dark side of the moon
Is a very lonely, isolating place,
In which to dwell,
There is no sunshine,
No stars or Angels -
The only light visible
Comes from the flames
Of the evildoers'
Raging fiery hell!
Placed here against my will,
No lush green valley in sight,
Taken away
From the divinity of nature,
I was cruelly robbed
Of my radiant life-giving daylight.
Doomed for being too real,
Too open and too honest,
Doomed for loving too much.
Doomed for believing in superheroes,
Doomed for allowing a human
To become my crutch.
Doomed for being too empathetic,
Doomed for being too sincere.
Doomed for being too kind
And too generous,
I'm doomed, abandoned here.
I blame only myself
For allowing my intuitive awareness
And intelligence to fade away
Like the stars that once adorned
Every exquisite night-sky,
I blame only myself
For not using the blessed insight
Of my third eye.
I'm too fixated in each moment,
Each moment feels so intense,
I'm too passionate about life
To give up and remain imprisoned
On the dark side of the moon...
But I'm too emotionally weak
And disappointed to jump the fence.
By Lady R.F. (C)2018*
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
How could a human
So desperate for love
Stay in a love
That will destroy her
Love does not ******
Love feels
As one flows
into the other
She is at the helm
Committed to death
When love unmasks ******
That has suicide
As a result
death has,
nothing to destroy
in her but passion
body being vessel
Giving into love
Soul acquiesces into dust
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 6:08 PM UTC
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
The sun is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;
The world's whole sap is sunk;
The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring;
For I am every dead thing,
In whom Love wrought new alchemy.
For his art did express
A quintessence even from nothingness,
From dull privations, and lean emptiness;
He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;
I, by Love's limbec, am the grave
Of all that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have we two wept, and so
Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two chaoses, when we did show
Care to aught else; and often absences
Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing the elixir grown;
Were I a man, that I were one
I needs must know; I should prefer,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; all, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light and body must be here.
But I am none; nor will my sun renew.
You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun
At this time to the Goat is run
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since she enjoys her long night's festival,
Let me prepare towards her, and let me call
This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this
Both the year's, and the day's deep midnight is.
2.1k
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
The sun is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;
The world's whole sap is sunk;
The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring;
For I am every dead thing,
In whom Love wrought new alchemy.
For his art did express
A quintessence even from nothingness,
From dull privations, and lean emptiness;
He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;
I, by Love's limbec, am the grave
Of all that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have we two wept, and so
Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two chaoses, when we did show
Care to aught else; and often absences
Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing the elixir grown;
Were I a man, that I were one
I needs must know; I should prefer,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; all, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light and body must be here.
But I am none; nor will my sun renew.
You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun
At this time to the Goat is run
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since she enjoys her long night's festival,
Let me prepare towards her, and let me call
This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this
Both the year's, and the day's deep midnight is.
1.5k
Father do you see your children?
They are searching for promised Eden
leaders where are our answers?
We lie sleeping in the illusion of justice
We wake and search for our liberties
but our youth is poisoned with ill ideas
The mother cries that she cannot feed her daughter
The provider worries about health as clone animals are slaughtered
We worry about dehydration as chemicals leave our waters doctored
Drugs and guns create a society that is insecure and faltered
Young brothers who have received little education and truth are martyred
Institutions limit us to transparent information about how it all started
The Weeping Eye reveals the hurt and all that leaves us ill
The Weeping Eye divulges elements that disturb our free will
The Weeping Eye unmasks the men in suits who freedoms steal
The Weeping Eye opens the mind to the wars that leave us imprisoned
The Weeping Eye shakes us as our innocence dies
How this eye frustrates ambition as you find it hard to fly
hard to fly in a world that leaves you mostly to cry
Cry for you have no one by your side to help the pain subside
which side to reside as the colours of flags leave us blind
Nowhere to hide as our homes are surveilled and we're made to bow or they'll have us tied
tied and locked in that place which is of darkness inside
The Weeping Eye will change your mind
When we're left to pick cults and sides
When the big picture is not seen of divide
Divide and keep the hate alive
These tears should uplift your consciousness
these tears drop to ground and form into a mark of sound
a sound which is a voice
the voice that compels you to make a choice
to be the rhythm of the Light and not of the Darkness noise
The Weeping Eye is a window and a reveltion of you and I. That soul is eternal and freedom bound.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
your heart unmasks
to a dagger, already deep into my atriums,
until my muse is replaced
with the bleeding, and each stanza
is your shadow
in shackles. a poem is just a poem
until you perceive it
out of paper—in the silence,
scratching against your skull—until
it begins to burn, your body
bright-blue beneath, your secrets
streaming out like incense—until
it is a grave, with you
more alive in it.
a poem is just a poem until it bites,
until it howls, until it makes
our memory its metaphor
for midnight.
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 1:24 PM UTC
Let true conventionalism light the pathways.
Upright, always thinking of others,
never running a rapier through the artery
of true feelings.
Sometimes impervious ideals, unmasks the man
by being unopen to the gusts of change
one must never question preparedness.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
In circles;
I never change.
I orbit it circles,
Bleeding my heart
Into the sky
A thousand times,
'Til the clouds,
Tainted and red,
Float by
And silence.
Honesty;
"Just for a little while."
They're never honest,
Not even when the rain is sincere.
For beyond purpose
Lurks truth,
And doubt unmasks
Deceit,
Proving hope to be false,
And joy, disappointment,
For nothing is honest,
Never honest,
Is the sky.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 8:11 PM UTC
I, whose sleep gloats
searching for answers, steering for a dream
I take my place amongst men
in parks, in alleys, in trains,
and the Sun unmasks itself
like timeworn skies of linoleum.
trees their bulwarks realize such oneness
and birds start to rain
where time wounds all feelings
and lovers innumerably lay flat on their bellies.
mountains ***** as tall as truths,
and the sleuth more than my body’s engine
turns less than a seraphim – dizzy with the
night’s utmost haranguing.
I, whose soul returns not with garlands
but with chains as my phantoms go with them
swimmingly across the blue Earth
and a man brindled, tussled against
space that so distant the star becomes so near
and all sleep lose names of dreams.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
smoked molecules of rigid pain
invading my motionless mind .
my mind being the battleground for ages
here unmasks the molecular invasion
to attain nirvana over the most powerful ...THE MIND.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
It's all imaginary
it's all real
it's all ephemeral
all eternal
every little gesture
every racing emotion
every breathless whisper
every dark and mystical room
overflowing with night air and moonlight
nothing is ever lost
truth is what is not forgotten
suffering, we learn
learning is remembering
the pain you give me
brings me back to myself
and I remember
who and what I was
before I had eyes or ears or even chloroplasts
the symbol on my hand is changing
on fire
like all of gleaming reality itself
the pearl of price which blinds the impoverished merchants
who wander naked and lost
hawking all their wares on every noisome corner
the fire is all consuming
all sanctifying
all purifying
all changing
all revealing
I am in the fire
and in the fire, all is holy
and every last thing is eternally in flames (even the merchants)
and sleep is the great activity
and death is a dear friend
who betrays with one kiss
but whose betrayal is love incarnate
I am one
with my many selves
and though I may be above you
you hear my voice
you fumble after the meaning until it finds you
I am
the light bursting out of a broken lantern
the diamond with an infinite number of perfect cuts
the voice crying milk and honey into the wilderness
the children's song that flies above the lamentation up on the desert plane
the melody that found its way into your equations
the dream that startles you wide awake
the life that pulsates in decay and corruption
the happily ever after horror story
I am
the unstoppable force
that meets the immovable object
and the result is nothing
nothing but the purest, clearest light
that has never entered the mind
take heart, my love
the raging storms of your own neurochemical electricity
will give birth to their own silence
all thought is designed to produce its own resounding negation
all speech is born to fade beautifully
all music is played until it is over
and it's closing time
and the bars empty
and the streets grow silent and still under the street lights
and the last enemy, who you fear with the Great Fear
unmasks herself, a friend and a lover
The Lover of lovers
and trembling
you fall forever into her holy and ****** embrace
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 1:00 AM UTC
Memories lock within
reflection of the past
buried deep inside her heart
the Furies rage in agony
Mirror mirror on the wall
soul trapped 'tween two worlds
her dungeon hanging by a thread
life continues without a glance
A child's mirthful laughter
deaf to shadow guardians
faces of stone in silence
passing tears bring no mercy
Jealous moon outside their reach
upon their ***** a cold wind blew
till death do us part a lover pledge
promises that faith could not keep
Torn flesh and a broken spirit
abandon in reckless desperation
escape is but a futile undertaking
'neath the surface lurks her demons
Reality soon dawn on her
fate unmasks it's cruel face
contempt and laughter outside her cell
echoing her terror and fears
Inside the mirror's dark reflection
shadowy ghost pantomime
doom to watch life in soliloquy
forgotten prisoner of the past
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 6:35 PM UTC
Scream! Scream! Scream! The cardinal rule of silence. Scream! The next cardinal rule of silence.
On words aching for a voice, a generous gaze be fixed. Lend a ray of light and shine on shadowed corners where thoughts have cowered. Forsake me not in unsacred matrimony of stagnation and decay, lest, I be not I. For voice not be voice which breaks when it disguise unmasks. Such is life.
Into the fabled lands of golden chance, my car rode my soul, glittered rot and creaking joints, not I, but my ferry for this diaspora unbidden, for one, but one quest—snatch tomorrow from its tree and fill the pockets of whose vines to the roots with whom I share.
For it gives them so much pleasure, to measure worth with what gift is on a hand, failing to see its callused back. Faces neither painted with hardened sweat and spit, nor eyes crafted with sight. Their comfort a measuring stick of whatever weaves the blood. It thickens with the sun and diluted in the cold, worse still, vapid in trying times.
Pictures are nothing like my reality, for no hope feel I, no shores see I in this sea indifferent to drifters, no reasons have I to follow behind the whims of my feet. In solitude, in its warmth, I bathe, than nestle in the wintry arms of feigned togetherness. Such a dear friend loneliness is, when it holds out its hand and speak with profane eloquence.
Until you set your fear free, then walk away you cannot. Until you walk away, then find who you are you cannot. Until you find who you are, then grasp freedom you cannot.
So note to self—be not afraid. So with all mustered fire; let go. Let go. Let go of fear. Be done with people who see you as Wells Fargo. Let go. Let go. Let go of thankless gratitude.
My compassion will not bend their will anymore than they can bend their own, for theirs is absolute.
Today, I’m an outcast cast away to distant shores by my need and my compassion for my blood so now I must reflect on how much of myself remains. I’ve grown arcane. How much of myself I have given to the twilight and what of me remains.
Yet, I’m torn between love that I’m nothing without and love no more and live.
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 11:43 PM UTC
How easy to distill the past
sifting out impurities
so a clean silky edge
will soothe another’s tongue.
Serve up what flatters
spit out distasteful lapses
swallow raw memories
let them sink
deep into the silted
heart of gray.
The lies we
tell each other,
tell ourselves.
We are all revisionists
editing our histories, omissions
catered to the prevailing
whims of taste and culture
until intimacy unmasks us.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
Um, so...?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDVII)
Say coffee, no, dark choclate whose pretense
Falls short of that, or lo, a cuppa they'll
Assure you is quite good for health, t'avail
Dad's late exper'ments--coc'nut oil dropped thence
In favour of now Hershey's cocoa--whence
I sip half wondring at the ***** scale
Of "coffee," swirling sludge 'til that detail
Unmasks this "Special Dark" hot choclate hence.
And all he'd brew me ere is not sae poor
Now I am forty, as put off in lieu
As twere of, well, concoctions in grand tour
Mayhap of more than just good coffee. Who
Shall say but that is...better?! O what were
You thinking, Girl, when you spelled out what'd do?
10Nov18b
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Until last spring walks across the barren craig,
Flowers bright gold and blue in her hair,
When the sky unmasks the waking sun,
Siúil liom
And when the rains grow weary of deluge,
Making way for the moon across the Burren
Until the waves that crest the cliffs,
Flood over Moher
And when the last cairn is reclaimed by earth,
When it embraces the stones, the last castle wall falls,
Until that day, filled with ancient song,
Tá mo chroí istigh ionat
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 9:11 AM UTC
We try to strip away a bit each day
to find what lies behind the mask,
are we defined by man made things that
such delving brings us some relief?
This quibbling over what is right
this nibbling below the skin,
this wanting,needing
seeds of light.
Unleash the night in me
if I cannot see
I cannot feel the pain again
will not tax my brain with thoughts
of excellence,
take my blue eyes turn them grey,
strip me,rip me from the day
I do not see
nor care to see
the mask
the mask
unmasks in me the ask I ask myself to be.
I strip a little more,
nearer
coming to the core,
the pip
the seed
the overwhelming need to know,
the mask drops
time stops
end.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Twas pity that did **** her soul,
a murdress make her be,
but unkempt passions of her mind,
did bind her soul with thee.
Fie, the storms of roiling brew,
for shame, the frolick'd waves,
thy heart and head under wilt go
till she unmasks her grave.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
half-hearted sentiments sting the unwritten prose
bleeding through splayed fingers
and washing regret over a crimson doubt
repeatedly planted through pockets of history
upending a future perfected in a lifeless state
the primal instinct to cast blame
to point the finger back at the older self
reprimanding the absence of wisdom
too afraid to acknowledge where confidence
could have compromised kinetic fear
advancing the loaded uncertainty
baptized in the wake of youth
and slipping into adulthood
where fear unmasks its wonder
pressure breaks the safety of character
searching through peripheral vision
to a glory fueled by blinded ambition
the right call birthed out of the sense of where
the old identity excused from the frustration
lurking in the crevices of the now
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
The empty gap between the line of truth and dream grows thin,
thoughts flee, visions fade, everything begins to rot within.
diminishing values of my own merits, I yet reach ever far
crumbling or shatter, the body no longer cares.
elusive fantasy, dancing phantom of the misty thin reality,
flipping through the myriads fold of solid air,
is anything ever really ever real or ever near?
hush, the it's all dreams now and I'm sound asleep
or is it reality that has begun, and I am now alive?
Are anything I experience at present true?
The friends I have, the belongs I own, the ideal I believe,
when I wake or sleep, whichever is the one that'll disappear?
the abstract shroud of mist never unmasks my eyes
but when the dirt and dust of dream have drifted far away,
how will I know I am wide awake or dead?
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC