The mind swirls in shadowlands and light, drifting in plight, sailing the rivers of our dreams. And so my poetry follows each and every mood and sway, each night and day a testament to my process, my lofty access to the halls of timeless record.
Deep in a Hole
Drenched in maudlin tears
espoused lip-service volunteered,
a human lag of blatant fears,
gives simply too much away.
We are so raw in our fleshy ambiguity,
mental gymnastics and dubious acuity,
while depending on the ego for a false security
we just wallow in our mesh.
Woven within our complexity,
drawing on obscurity,
we fathom answers without questions,
pathways without directions.
Then, lulled into self-denial,
we flounder in our given mires,
never once put out a fire
to quell the onslaught of untethered desire.
And in our duplicity,
our realities and dreams at war,
we seldom find a release
just fall much deeper into a hole.
Clouds languish as the sun dissolves,
rippling gold sunset in molten state absolves
the day’s concerns, the heat appeased
by the oncoming sheet of purple hues,
studded so elegantly with jewels.
I pander to the chill,
a goose-bump plight of sunburned skin,
and praise the closing, the shift to ice,
the speckled starry night my ceiling,
an afferent revealing.
Hairs stand tall upon my red arms,
like magnetic teasing,
and sweeping chills disarm my radiations
the shine of day polished hard upon my skin,
relished the shadowland, and cool rescind.
The moon, a pale blue glow,
wafts upward into purple fields,
as stars in swirling carriages prevail,
winking catalogues of many veils
beset upon a sky.
And thirst avows my next move,
sun-dried I in sands full glare,
and imbued I stay but a moment,
to imbibe this night affray,
this relief of light and heat.
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