Sanity

Dispensable sanity, how dare you cry again. That
bulldozer took you from me.
Insurmountable loss engaging memories
teasing me, flogging me
with their unconscionable words spoken
One after the other,
one after the other,
this black hole undertones
the swallowing surrogate in my mind.
Give me my arm so I can touch it!
Give me my leg so I can feel it!
Why interrupt me fool?
You the plotters of distortion's.
Twirling untroubled hair
tasting the delight of your victims
with bellies nourishing empty.
Human garbage, they say.
Tongues licking their facade
where flakes of the limp have fallen.
Sanity had tried.
Dearest tender scraps, how could I dismiss you?
Fear the precision of repressed hope
carving and languishes still.
But where has the other been?

They say, "Engaging sanity, my dear."

The Splinter

In my dreams,
a chateau took form.
Native to what was to come
my fingers
cast the arsonist
as its masterpiece.
Long suffering did not know
the pucker of a vanishing tongue
for I was the hearer of illusion
kissing nightmares under creaky doorways.
Unburdened, I once danced
to expected love's return.
As sweet camouflage played,
the attending antiquity
was born in walls.
Applauding mirrors mesmerize imitations
in such a way, that the enduring flair
of an outsider carries sanity to the flame.
How eerie it is to find myself
emptied by wisdom,
sitting alone as reflection paints anew.
Intimacy must know my stories to touch
my treasured forbidden pulse.
Can't I paraphrase the finale of my loathing
that you might know enough?

Here lay the ruins from embezzled love
and yet look at how magnificent it all is.
The crumbling walls will illuminate
what’s caged and
fallen
and the splinter
will dream of its depart.

She is lovely

Into the deep forests,
the baritone winds
has had their time.
The yore of ailments
glows, as the admonished
walk through, searching.
She is like many of us.
A transient
whose slumber travails.
Sedating,
what is to come
she awakens
again
caressing the void’s
that haunt her.
I know how she feels.
Sweet idles of solace
has enamored my Cri de coeur.
In the mist,
the sojourners epilogue is
approaching.
What good is a drifter whose
accession traces a hollow journey?
Heeding to bliss,
she rouses
to what is dead.
Guided inwardly,
the wilted flower
will have her bloom.
She is lovely.

Knowing

Venture with me to where the uncaged
takeon an immortal oath
where mysterious suitors
have drafted their mirage unto time.
Savoir faire fathomed my bliss
and the foolish sang sonnet’s of decay
and time can not define me as inopportune
for unrequited love has not archived this soul.
I'm able to cross the seas of transgressions
to unearth a guidepost
where even prose can not dignify
this trance of knowing.

Depression

I interrogated my mourning,
until my inner core ceased to be
all that it was.
The sane filtering
of old drums banging into quiescent
had longed for a walkway,
to heal this noise for some time.
Someone told me that darkness
comes before the dawn.
As the galaxy unrolled,
the winnow of reason opened up a porthole.
Reminiscing, I reached for oblivion.
When a new star burns the universe has already
gardened a place for its radiance.
Did I forget that the stars shift
when a heart envisions awe?
I think I had.
Tears falling.
The dawn is coming.

Bondage

Ah, the festering aroma of innuendos,
have I not smelled the craft of your imagination today?
Who is beholden to whom anymore
but a mind and its own bouquet of opium.
It does feel like dementia of a sort,
sniffing valleys of privy vindication.
Sniffing the con artist’s who cry
and the landslides that say,"It is what it is."
This perennial sediment
has left a fighter with a sword
that it can not use.
Get up and Go you spiritless tank!
Have you not groveled enough in a land of decay?

The Field

Did you walk by your field today?
I saw you honey.
The affable statue of your thinking man
has amplified the indexes of our limbo.
"You betray my heart with your devotion to grief," he said.
I replied, "Each stem has prodded my lay. What more can the field ask
when I have willingly conformed
to its wild grass?"
The quiet air bewilders my assent again.
Have I stayed too long?
I wonder.
I am tired of the unreal.
The exquisite statue nods.