Down, Down

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A series of misguided emotions
Bubble to the surface of the cauldron
That is my flaming heart
And once again I slam them back down

Those emotional manifestations
I’m told are unworthy
And shouldn’t be felt
For the best of all involved

But perhaps my heart
Hasn’t gotten the message
Hasn’t realised its folly
In feeling such love

Love for all it sees
Love for every soul it meets
Love so intense
That no stamping down can hide it long

Smoosh the feelings
Down down
Deep in their hole
Where they cannot escape

Keep them deep down
So folks won’t see
The unacceptable feelings
That are filling me

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The Swirling Maelstrom

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An errant thought
Grabs for attention
Clamours to be heard
Above the din
That inhabits my mind
And I grab for a pen
And a sheet
To scribble it down
Before it is lost
To the maelstrom
And perhaps gone forever
Never to be born
Into the world
Never to be heard
Never to be acted upon
And the thought
Having snatched it’s moment
Bears down
Holds the spotlight
Begin to be finished
Before it is too late
Before the next thought
Comes along to displace
And dethrone
Making the spotlight it’s own
And then comes another
And another
And the swirling storm
Rages on

Make Them Hear Your Voice

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A deep and existential dread
Forming around and holding tight
Rejected once more by those that hold no sway
Those that didn’t matter until they said
That you weren’t up to their standards
That you somehow fell short
Their opinions didn’t faze you
Until they were directed your way
So why the sudden change
Why the sudden regret
At something lost when never sought
Missing when never wanted to begin with
If all souls are fragments of the same
Great and powerful being
Perhaps it matters when one fragment
Suggests another is lacking
In a world of free loving
A world of fanciful joy
Why would you wallow
Why would you fear
It’s all just suggestion
Not a devil at your ear
Essentially I’m saying
What’s done is done for good
So why bother wasting energy
On words from lumps of wood
When you are the one in charge
The one who knows the path
Who can see the journey stretched before them
Can see the aftermath
Of every single decision
Of every little choice
But only if you clear your mind
And make them hear your voice

Gaze into Azure

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A goddess no mere words could hope to capture
And yet the poet, he must try
Strive to snare her in his net of finely woven words
Reaching for the stars that shine dimly in comparison
It isn’t that she is beautiful
Although such description falls desperately short
Nor that her face could easily be compared to the high noon sun
There is something more to her than simple beauty
She makes beauty seem mundane
No, this extramortal being is transcendent of such petty things
She is flowers and music and lightning
A smile to put all others to shame
She is the fox and the wolf and the eagle
Animalistic and primal to her core
She dances as if carried upon the breeze and yet
She stands as mountains wreathed in moonlight
A whirlwind, a cacophony, a swirling dervish
And somehow a shimmering glassine pool
Undisturbed and reflective
The poet gazes into azure and sees
Sees the truth of himself and all the world around
The truth is so evident he wonders how he missed it before
How the world cannot see what has been made so clear
Something in the muse’s eye has awakened him
Stirred that which he hid long ago, even from himself
Especially from himself, and the hidden now revealed
The poet can breathe his last in openness and prosperity
A smile on his lips and a skip in his heart

Poetry’s Mettle

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Sometimes the words don’t flow
As finely as I’d like
They stick in my brain
And the string of repetitious,
Rambunctious ramblings
Somehow seems silly
Somewhat strange and unwieldy
Understandably undesirable
Undeniably utilitarian
And completely devoid
Of magic
And mystery
And majesty
And mayhem
Instead intent in insipidness
Inherently idiotic ideas
Frequently flow freely
Foul figments of imagination
Testing resolve at every turn
And tested the mettle
Begins to weaken
Begins to warp and crack
And in the cracking becomes
Something different
Something wholly new
Something almost beautiful
Almost palatable
Almost real

The Strength Of A Godess

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She doesn’t know how strong she is,
Made of steel wreathed in ice,
Her heart is made for loving,
But it’s been smashed and broken thrice.

Her strength is in her smile,
In the way she holds his gaze,
But she doesn’t know her own power,
Her eyes reveal a depth of sadness,
A melancholy dipped in pain,
Yet put her in the sunlight and watch her flower.

Adamantium and mithril have nothing on her
This woman forged in fire,
She is something special,
A demigoddess in human attire.

I suppose somehow she knows this,
Somewhere deep inside,
She is aware of her amazing immutability,
But the world has convinced her,
She is made of softer stuff,
One day she’ll notice her own nobility.

She stood upon the mountain thence,
The lava flowing down,
She was not hurt or changed,
But refined and empowered in her crown.

He knows she is well beyond him,
But that is half the fun,
She is lightning and thunder,
And holding her if only for a moment,
Would be heavenly and defining,
Even if she’s so strong she’d tear him asunder.

New Short Stories Available on Amazon via Five59 Publishing.

Intolerant Joy

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Days gone past
Belief was simple
And necessary
And necessarily
We fell in line
The object
Of abject horror
Was our downfall
And the means
Of our salvation

Today it has changed
Belief is scorned
Those who believe
Need to be burned
Their sickness
Could contaminate us all
The masses indoctrinated
And inoculated
And yet we are all
The children of God

Should a war be fought
Against all war
Or does it make
A little more sense
To simply ignore
To simply live
In tolerance of intolerance
A sick belief that will
Eventually burn itself
From existence

Some would say
That is naiveté
At its finest
But these are the same
Folks who don’t believe
Don’t understand
And wouldn’t care to
Thier spiritual journey
Stolen long ago

That is the shame of it
And there is no blame for it
For to point one’s finger
In some kind of sick judgement
Some perverse exposé
Would be to lower yourself
Into the muck
The river of hate
Current so swift
You couldn’t help
But be swept away

Fill your heart
With an intolerant joy
And the beauty
Inherent in things
The change might take
One thousand years
But it will come
As long as you make
The change this very day
Love over Hate
Is the only way

New short stories available on Amazon via Five59 Publishing.