She holds the eye that freeze time.
She chastises cold and space and time.
While the world sleeps and passes by,
She stands in snow, under quiet sky.
As for the eye that she holds,
For now it shall remain closed.
Until the moment it opens and,
A moment lost, then held in hand.
Dedicated to my friend Carole D.
Why do the watching spy?
This question of the eyes
That congregate on the wall,
Who are they watching if at all?
“Their gaze is cast on those,
Who with violence would impose.”
Fools! The eyes are cold and cannot see
Into the hearts of you and me.
They grow from fear and it permits
A listener now to come and sit.
Now that the kings walls have ears as well,
What safety is there with such secrets to sell?
The eyes within. The eyes without,
The eyes that dwell within me shout:
The walls! The floors! The ceiling! Spies!
The walls surrounding! These mouths they lie!
Once they were without their sight.
Then someone taught them to see. Their blight!
A setting sun on the horizon alights,
The moon, from day, offers no respite
For eyes that should otherwise be dreaming,
In the dark free from paranoia seeming
To take hold all control and stay.
Oh! That the cursed sight of these eyes may
Blink, and from the sun take pause.
Seek the shade, sleep! Break your unwritten laws!
Gaze not back at me reflection!
You ghostly and familiar complection!
When one with his mirror takes to shouting,
It’s too far, he’s taken away laughing.
Not requiring the belief of others to be, the eyes,
From dark corners and darker dreams they, waiting, spy.
Thanks to my brother Jesse for letting me use his art on my blog. 🙂
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged complection, dark, dream, eye, mirror, Moon, poetry, reflection, shadow, shout, sun, wait, watch
In a different life
This pain she feels isn’t hers alone.
On this path there’s more than one shadow,
In a different life.
And in that different life, of which she often dreams.
There are hands to help her,
There are arms to hold her,
There is good and joyful news that’s told her.
There is a day without strife.
In that different life.
She stands and stirs from her daydream
Not seeing the faces in between.
The faces of those who wait.
Those who would help, that she does not contemplate.
Then she falls and cries out, to the void she thinks.
And crys again when she opens her eyes,
Surrounded by the faces and the hands of those who try,
And they who love and assist,
Thinking she was alone and not missed,
She never realized that her different life was this.
Posted in On A Positive Note
Tagged arm, dream, eye, face, hand, life, love, pain, path, poetry, shadow
I am here within the shadows
Behind the eye with which you see.
I am imagination fallow
When the inner mind comes to be.
I leave trails for you to follow,
That you so obediently tread.
I am the truth that you must swallow,
I am the lies, out which you’ve bled.
I am truth and lies, and life and death,
All of this and none.
I am your need until your last breath,
Then, forever one.
There in the daylight dreams,
That seems to separate,
Sunlight isn’t the only illusion that seems
To find you desolate.
Not so much within,
As he who helps to cast it.
A notion of sanity? Frozen.
I am here to move you past it.
A suicide of angels.
One would from this angle
Wish their eyes were deceiving,
untrustworthy little orbs.
Their ears fearfully confirming
What their eyes see as burning,
But still what their brains cannot absorb.
All the while he is smiling
The one who, from afar, beguiling
Their denial into crying,
Terrifying panic, and insane rancor.
Oh! For the angels that should not have died before!
Then his smile betrays a clue.
This suicide of angels cannot be true!
What horror has been left for me and you?
The damage is done and he knows it.
Perhaps a wound impermanent, but who can close it?
Surely father time has no such tourniquet.
Now there is work to be done, stitches to sew.
What does the future hold? Who can know?
Once healed, these scars will follow us so,
We must do our best,
And learn to let go.
A note on the art:
I found this painting while browsing Tumblr, and could find no link to the artist. If you know the original artist please post a name or link in the comments below so that I may contact him/her to properly request permission for using their piece in my blog. Thank you. 🙂
Posted in Life (or something like it)
Tagged angel, brain, eye, Future, heal, horror, panic, poetry, rancor, scar, wound
With glistening eyes,
In a jaded cage he is confined
This: no bed of angels
His desire resides.
One time too many,
A stolen glance
A cost too great to keep company,
An infected wound must be lanced.
He sees perfection.
Ignorance gives way to bliss,
Here in the abyss.