The Divide ( rewrite )

 

Grand canyon of the mind

in your Corpus Collosum you'll find

right side emotional and logical left brain

in its altered state tuned to ascertain

reality out there waiting to be found

the world hard and concrete all around

residing within, working as it should

even if not fully understood

your rationality colorfully encoded

somehow processed and twice noted

forming a singular event

with occasional deja vue torment

all discreet connections present

forming analog reality spent

within cozy hemispheric logic

as countless stimuli energetic

form your reality's substance

giving form to your conscious existence

perceived and gently addressed

your Corpus Collosum is simply the best

Reverie

 

Dreams alone do not sustain us

they merely flash into our nightly lust

and rage with desires loudly shouted

at our souls sometimes demented

Some of them reveal questioned sanity

engulfed by spiritual magic misty

smothered by psychic morass envisioned

while real beauty suffers extinction

Beautys' death rides astride borrowed pride

and true life seeks to hide

as regrets fester in feverish dreams

of conception and time machines

Where soft young flesh and fragile bones

lie together on altar stones

only to awake drenched in fears

that dreamland sometimes bears

During those moments filling the night

that bathes the soul in vivid sights

you dread the fantasy and must resist

while grasping the sword of dream justice

That dream weapon hard as steel

that slashes the vista unreal

into portions seemingly quite real

that your heart can truly feel



Newtown Angels

 

The Angels' destiny came swiftly

as their blood pooled brightly

in the classroom, their bodies scattered about

now in silence, no cries no shouts

only unbearable visual chaos

a scene reeking of sanity lost

as their death came from a broken mind

 doom from bullets did the angels find
 

A score of virgin souls

frozen in the moment, never to become old

Emelie, Daniel, Ana, Grace, Noah

Jack, Jessica, Charlotte, Dylan, Olivia

Benjamin, Caroline, Catherine, Allison, Chase

Jesse, Josephine, Madeleine, James, Avielle
 

All lost in our world of purpose

as we remain teary eyed amid our silent curses

we ponder the inexplicable

we suffer the insufferable

passionate speeches blossom unrehearsed

but words cannot quell our thirst

for justice where none can be found

to avenge those angels cut down
 

A spiritual urgency must be our aim

by taking part in children's games

of innocence to escape the ordinary

and give back in acts of charity

Senescence.....Revision #1

SENESCENCE

 

The marble stillness of a seasoned moon

coupled with the unbroken call of screaming winds

delivered unwelcome chills that soon

opened my ageless mind to suffering
 

 Ageing that waits for mourning tongues

to speak over shifting sands that leave no mark

and wait for heaven to attend to honored guests among

those to whom evil deeds caused needless fright
 

There, sad shadows are strewn

upon those buried under a cover of moss

and like windblown leaves on quiet tombs

their scattered ideals are forever lost
 

Their spirit shadows rise and soar

high above weakness and strength

and weigh down hearts forever more

with poisonous regrets that seem innocent
 

Then, age is covered in silent grief
strangely entwined in personal fear

that promotes joy incomplete

while facing a future too obscure and too near
 

 In time, there is some hope

with pleasure in full gray hair

where memories exist on joyful days

and leave an aura of happiness, I'm told
 
that happily exist on the strolled pathways
of every day lived long and old

 

Leaving Denver

On that clear and fateful day

the mountain air was crisp and vibrant

as I drove myself away

from Denvers' life inconsistent

The purplish Rockies rose in the distance

puffy white clouds like cotton balls

hung in a blue sea of persistence

that held steadfast during days that summer stalls

The soft morning light ascending

perfectly reflected in the nearby pond

 frozen in a stillness amazing

as I travelled Westward bound

Driving through patches of sunlight

scattered on the twisting road

bordered by golden grassy heights

and a rushing stream that seaward flowed

The bounding elks on mountain-side

the fragrant air streaming by

the forests' edge that darkly lie

along the way of my hasty flight

Cruising in the early twilight

and with a smile upon my face

I eagerly seeked distant skies

along with a comforting new place

Devils Aide

 

Her voice in velvet darkness 

 

  

echoed where he knelt in quiet nakedness

spellbound by the moon in her eyes

touched by her shadow that lies

on grainy wood and satin sheets

softly kissed by lips ever sweet

her beckoning mouth capturing his soul

He remembered a warning told

about her evil wandering spirit

and vulgar nocturnal habit

but chose to not believe

in her power to deceive

Her long black hair, breeze blown

fingernails of ebony hard as stone

this dark angel, not virtues' friend

an object of delight to lament

Now, with fire shooting from her fingertips

and her smile framed by carbon lips

he realizes that she's not from mortal soil

'Tis too late to reject and foil

this wicked witch in disguise

that lays in his bed flashing red eyes

 

The Chest (rewrite)

Outside, the winds sounded like a cat fight

as I rummaged in the attic that night

a chest partially hidden from sight

rested in the shadows of beaming light marked

it drew my attention with its' ancient form

inviting me with desires strong

to examine its contents in darkness cast

my heartbeat quickened fast

as the latches sprung and lid opened

I waited for the light to reveal a fortune

Would there be gleaming gold within

I paused, with deep breath taken in

To my surprise the chest was full of words

some nouns, adjectives and adverbs

strange ones, short ones, and long ones abound

also in the mix, verbs and pronouns

enough words to construct sentences

beautiful words containing literary essence

words to build book bound chapters

books worthy of readers' raptures

'Twas a treasure greater than gold

bits of consciousness and wisdom sown

to grow into novels and classic poems

and to be treasured in all societys' homes

The Corpse

 

The departed in his coffin lay still

rigid and pale as dead men will

with waxen hands across his chest

dressed in black suit, blue tie, the very best

the fingers that carried gold in life

now bare, the gold given to his wife

his head slightly bowed on satin pillow

seems chilled in satiny glow

I want to reach out and touch him

feel the cold of death on his face slim

but I cannot touch him in death

having not touched him in life and yet

I seek to feel this empty shell

to confirm his passing to heaven or hell

Then, a thought emerges out of nowhere

a cogitation that brings a scare

a desire to raise the bottom coffin lid

to view fully this corpse splendid

but I really need to know

if his pants and shoes are there also

This thought is gone in a flash

as I look at his head the color of ash

and gaze at the calm expression on his face

with hair combed, nothing out of place

silently I ponder death

This lack of life and deep regret

felt only by the living

as the dead don't feel a thing



Ancestry and History

 

To posses time that has passed

to where shadows and memories bask

to be owner of former moments

with captured reality backwards sent

 

Shows the wonder of all human minds

a blessing sometimes unkind

for as the present passes and is gone

events lived remain strong

 

With those moments fixed in mind fast

within the sponge of existence grasped

past memories blend into personality

forging a critical identity

 

As truth of this reality is history

and dwells inside of all you see

your ancestors gone but living in memory

are those responsible for you and me

 

As likeness breeds likeness

the reflected genes are yours to test

so never forget their fruitful past

and seek to revive the gift to ever last

 

Your ancestors' spirit and strife

have directed your life

their transferred qualities remain your savior

they have gifted you with the destiny of a winner

Predestination

 

Predestination in life is a vision

and for some an object of derision

still, there's a Divine decree for everything

even sacred redemptions' final offering

 

'Tis the vision of existence with a purpose

that becomes blurred in religions' ashes

then scattered by social winds in all places

along with wasted efforts leaving no traces

 

Only distant memories quietly simmering

in misty valleys of precious things

eventually surface and bring silence

wrapped in past youthful innocence

 

Sadly alone and in warm repose

within dreams and pictures posed

reliving immortal youth and blissful flings

admittedly awed at the purpose of living

 

Then, as bloodied tongues fervently recite

blessed mantras during the night

that give shelter to sins committed

and forgiveness for transgressions writhed

 

Religion borne blasphemy

together with spiritual urgency

swiftly erase illusions of purpose

lost within moral compasses

 

As when evil is done

for joyful purposes or demented fun

let purpose be full of sorrow

allowing for a better tomorrow

 

As purpose in the world is a vision

for which there is surely a reason

 



SANDY( the Times part 12 )

 

 

Days with nights giving chase

 with deliberate speed she travels

her pace unperturbed, she traces

a path up Americas' coast as lives unravel

she's a beauty of a storm unleashed

stirring windblown waters of the sea

with all helpless in the face of the beast

aiming at the residents of New York city

Subways and cellars become deep wells

blocking travel underground

and bringing stillness to the citadel

where none before had been found

Hopelessness in Staten Island abounds

lives are awash in ocean surges and wind flays

that fill the darkness with fright unbound

as watery death and misery comes and stays

This bearer of calamity moving up the coast

with monstrous intentions and desires

at first she was just like most

with the howling winds of a demented choir

but then, she joined forces with friends in low places

took a left instead of a normal right

and shredded the Jersey shores in her traces

Sandy spread her wings of fright

casting a black pall in her travels

on those mostly resigned to their fate

who silently ponder at the marvel

and awesome power of Sandy the hurricane

 

Pleasure

 

For the journey towards fate

'Tis for pleasure I advocate

seduced by the sirens' sweet call

having seen gratification, I want it all

but some delights seem to shy away

just as summer clouds do sun betray

and the contentment of personal recognition

of gaining distinction in obscure conditions

is like licking the sores of aspirations

that bring joy in anticipation

of thrills filled with addictive needs

including the blissful sting of pain, indeed

Then, with mindful persistence

rapture flies beyond penitence

And in spite of everything

I am delighted with my offerings

a result of persistent works without end

happy with pleasing a few friends

My spirit revels in the accolades

that suddenly burst from cloud borne shade

with contentment for pleasures' sake

enjoyment in self-delight I undertake

with my shadow that loves sunlight

taking relish strolling in my sight

'Tis not a reflection but a happy projection

of my cheerful life in sunny motion

 

No Mirrors

 

The self resides in the eye of the beholder

but try beholding yourself without mirrors

and live without the reflection of your presence

unable to reveal your corporal essence

Would your soul be set free

when unshackled from human vanity

and would your unbridled potential

make daily existence more endurable

would you still smile anyway

would your demeanor show worry

and when physical beauty fades

messed hair waiting to be tamed

would you honestly care

when there are no mirrors there

No self-reflections to waste time precious

no beauty aids to make others envious

your beauty woven into daily experiences

with eloquence emanating from inner substance

but our society would flirt with disaster

in our world without mirrors

life as we know it could not exist

everyone would be at risk

and all cars on the precipitous brink

with objects not reflected closer than you think

 

Subterra Ostium

 

Decaying flesh and bones hidden from sight

accompany my journey through the bone yard

as needles of pine on moonlit night

hide branches resembling severed arms

 

Moss covered stumps cast eerie shadows

during this fog shrouded nite of the dead

as rustling leaves on wind arise

fixing frightful visions in my head

 

Twisted branches and moonlit shadows

form creatures that emerge from granite stacked

bringing terror chills from head to toes

that send tingles of fear down my back

 

The departed within this place rot in death

and trepidation is mine to share

as I feel their spectral breaths

and hear their curses emerge from nowhere

 

Demons and angels underground

all smell of death in eternity

and social beasts claw at the ground

wanting to devour their soul and identity

 

As the mournful rustling brings me some fright

the lonely and tortured souls

rise above their graves on this nite

within the moonlit gleam and ghostly cold

 

 

 

 

 

Le Chemin ( El Camino )

 

She stood in the shadow of her dreams

hiding from the sunshine of life, it seems

planning her escape from present conditions

by reliving nostalgic illusions

 

The search becoming her way

and the way never seeming to stay

while repressing impulses to shine brightly

and to seek new paths immediately

 

Her soul wandered in boundless labyrinths

where traces of love and pleasures distinct

hid among the dark pines bordering

the native village where joy was nothing

 

With the comfort and vitality of her age

she found that youthful appetites still raged

and with not a moment of regret

she passed into the bright sunset

 

To find there tenderness and purpose

wrapped in the warmth of life generous

she now strolls in the glowing light

towards that place where existence is right

MALALA YOUSAFZAI

 

Timidity was never in her manners

like snow falling to ground renders

the traces of prejudice invisible

she melted that cover like sunshine undeniable

 

A teenager standing alone bravely

her flickering light buffeted every day

by the harsh winds of fanatic religion

she with determination held firm in decisions

 

To stand for human rights

no matter how real the fright

her delicate face and dark eyes

a beacon in a land where freedom dies

 

With her tender voice the center of gravity

stoking the fires of female identity

she sacrificed herself beyond imagination

seeking better life and education

 

Her ideals like music played softly

like despair soaked in words spoken daily

irritated evil minds of Taliban delusion

those seeking to destroy a fragile Nation

 

Misguided and ignorant of world opinion

they chose with selfish satisfaction

to bring darkness upon the selfless inertia

that is the sunlit richness of Malala

 

The Search

 

I went in search of myself

put intimate matters on the shelf

as dull depression, always annoying

nipped at my soul, constantly gnawing

 

Rebuffing the advice to stay home

I chased river smells and wood smoke

in small towns with white church steeples

that concealed pubs with no scruples

 

Shadows hung like dark curtains

over the road travelled for certain

looking for a charming personality

that would quell the flames of misery

 

Life moments like faded flowers in vases

were discarded in far away places

filled with bursts of violence

as screams for redemption met silence

 

Dreams of destiny wrapped in smoke

were nourished by the winds of hope

and remain the quest of daily life

the process channeling personal strife

 

'Tis now a blessing to know destiny

as life writes the play for me

with inspirational writing in the sky

being that substance that maintains my high

 

Embassy Rage

 

Inside the heavy doors of darkness

there are many things to fear

 souls are offended by the mindless

mocked without reason causing tempers to flare

Like ripples in the hot sands

hate carves a chasm of fiery light

that painfully glows in Mideast lands

in the cobbled courtyards of Embassy sites

Misguided Muslims plot their revenge

for a prophets' glory trampled for gain

and among the jagged rock fringed henge

the vipers seek a Nations' flag sovereign

to spit on and burn and mock at will

sinking their fangs of hate into innocent flesh

indifferent to blood in darkness spilled

trapped in their hatred of the West

in a land where chaos is never still

where Democracy is an ideal to fear

and heaven on earth cannot be built

because Muhammeds' kingdom is not here

The Overlord

Lord of Lords in the Executive realm

manager of the promised dream

has power and strenght to muster

not held in sword or scepter

but in societys' combined desires

voiced by individual moments in timely splendor

Intimate majesty hidden in dusty corners

will not satisfy seasonal contenders

who spout calumnious quotations

at the audience of a desperate Nation

Bare and brown, singed by Baptismal fire

the Lords' hands grasped the reigns of power

changing the runaway trains' direction

from the precipice of financial annihilation

that dark maelstrom where fools play

where our Nations' life blood courses all day

draining those of us who believe in fairness

who spent our lives giving our best

and now raked into piles, our dreams await

for the Overlord to redeem our Nations' fate

Flash

 

In a moment of clarity

I saw lifes' garden blooming

Alive with hidden beauty

I observed an essence enveloping

those things not normally seen

As I struggled with heart and mind

to remember faces I'd meet

while moving through life half blind

Then, crystal clear perception revealed all

from noticing my heart beating

to feeling colors and hearing bird calls

All edges vibrant and defining

Personal decisions underscored by judgment

infused with momentary acute senses

that transported me to a mystical moment

where sweet air slowly flowed over fences

and mixed with memories gathered

revealing that from something old that expires

something new is surprisingly fathered

blending into the shadows of lifes' fires

Surely, as wine from today's grapes

will soothe the palate and soul

long after having died a crushing fate

So will these verses someday take hold

Noces a Montreal

 

Within the subdued light of Loyolas' campus chapel

whispers floated softly on swirling air

that August day two thousand twelve

as guests gathered from far and near

 

They had journeyed from Algeria and Germany

from nearby New York and France

from Rimouski, Quebec and Italy

to unite in celebration and dance

 

The groom waited nervously for his bride

his anticipation rising on that summer afternoon

with bridesmaids in place and best man by his side

the love of his life would appear soon

 

Then, the chapel doors opened wide

the darkness exploded silently

revealing an apparition in white

as streaming light filled the chapel instantly

 

Soft shadows and sunlight mixed

to display her loveliness and beauty

as she slowly walked, her eyes fixed

on her husband to be

 

A beauteous light passed from generational years

bathing flowers, music and words spoken

by a man and a woman held dear

a light that kindled the vows taken

 

Time flowed like an eternity

enveloped by the warmth of that light

as the parent spark passed on destiny

to be spent in loves' delights

 

Then, chased by the suns' afternoon flight

the contingent repaired swiftly

to the Museum of Fine Arts

where they toasted the newlyweds and danced the night away

Curiosity

The chariot settles in Gale crater

as humanitys' mettle brings Curiosity

to a landscape without flowers

parting slightly the veil of discovery

Mysteriously far in distant flight

guided through boundless space

Curiosity touches down never to depart

Mars' mortal lair and dusty waste

Curiosity in this harsh and perplexing land

sporting a plutonium heart

will gladly probe Mount Sharps' striated bands

and capture reality out of sight

While it pursues with beauteous eyes

red expanses and rock strewn shadows

looking for existence in disguise

in sandy soil that whirlwinds blow

Curiosity raises its limbs with lifeless tools

and dares to ask loud and clear

Are we unique earthly fools

or have we brothers far and near

Muqaddam (respected village elder)

Within the frailty of his age advanced

and with the lateness of remaining hours

his words remain steadfastly happenstance

falling upon dead ears in hollow grandeur

His tales are poured out without asking

like some heavenly essence freely given

tales of times flown on silver wings

and dreams impossible never forgotten

His smile and wit readily flow

combined with soulful depth and passion

towards the villagers he seems to know

while passing his knowledge in easy fashion

Lately, with cities rising in air

the villagers he knows less than more

and dwellers often pass unaware

of the beauty and history he stores

His knowledge no longer quenches

the thirst for truth that long life begets

So, there he sits on the village square bench

his wisdom replaced by the Internet

Pond Hockey

The brassy toll of distant Church bells

on Sunday mornings filled with unbound play

mingled with hockey at woods edge

as we romped and frolicked on a cold day

There on frigid ice was pleasure

reflected in that frozen mirror

memories were etched deep in fissures

carved by elapsed hours and endless shivers

on pond ice that sparkled and glittered

while bathed in pure winter light

as steely blades cut and quartered

arcs and traces in bluish white

Still, those phantoms glide

during the dusk of winter days

and with joy gracefully abide

in memories that quietly lay

frozen in recalls of fearless youth past

when spirits high and frozen breath

joined loud screams and muffled gasps

that permeated games at frozen sunsets

We were at Heavens gate

and dared not leave the moment

for fear that on that day late

we would fail to receive this Holy Sacrament

Dark Night in Aurora

On that night, pain and sorrow tore

the dark bowels of the theater floor

as rivulets of sticky red

left their stains among the dead

In the darkness and within flitting shadows

staccato bursts of gunfire during the show

sounding a song in mortal verses

as lethal bullets bored into the surprised faces

innocence is savaged during this murderous display

late on the night of this day

as blood in deepening pools lie

there is a moment of brief respite

the curtain of reality parts slightly

only to reveal many souls gone away

victims who cannot understand

why blood is soaking their hands

scatter in the darkness, their eyes wide

some beneath their seats hide

and when the massacre is past

they stand in pools of blood, aghast

Truth and Reality

When truth properly defined

as pure reason of mind

is twisted and sometimes spoiled

by individual perceptions and foiled

within the memories in neural form

 inhabiting our lives' daily norm

'Tis time to search harder

to notice the perceived closer

accept the sensory overloads of life

that expands truth as it arrives

Truth in the golden autumn bowers

and in the sudden summer showers

Truth in the beautiful frosted winters

and in Springs' resurrection from slumber

Accept Universal truths always

that fixes in mind reality that stays

to be enjoyed and seriously cherished

as truth in us lives and persist

The Departed ( rewrite )

Near the approaching end of day

in a place where Saigons' departed stay

and in the golden fading light

far away from casual sight

a long-haired youthful girl today

walks slowly where the river rolls away

her deep brown eyes and raven hair

clash against soft skin so fair

she brings flowers fresh from the nearby park

walking softly on gravel stones

in summer breeze her hair windblown

her eyes closed she silently weeps

as she faces markers of deaths' eternal sleep

her hands grasp fragrant flowers at rest

held closely to her rounded breast

she moves towards the grave where silence hides

where markers are strewn by riverside 

and the restless birds of summer sing

a song of sorrow and soulful sting

the offering is placed on ground moist and low

covering cold marble white as snow

with the soft hues in flowers found

she wishes peace to the departed underground

his presence will be mourned and missed

never again to feel her gentle kiss

for in earth his body dwells

his coffin a narrow cell

'Tis with shameful contrition

for those making decisions

that their choices should haunt hearts

and minds for the war they did start