Best Psyche Poems
You arouse the nascent
poetry of my trembling Psyche,
homing the heavy heart of
calm constellations
within this conscience,
teaching sleepless silence
between my sky and your river
to speak the lucent
lexicon of languor ~
I felt you amidst unvoiced verses,
and I k i s s e d the
music within your mind
from a plethora of petals away,
as the truth undressed me
to cleanse the confusion,
while hope embraces
the vulnerability
of being seen ~
the closing of the arms of gloaming
and the opening of the eyes of sunrise…
I breathe metaphors
into the mysterious mists of midnight,
embrace the beauty of darkness
that once drowned my spirit,
for I learned that healing
cares not for the heinous heat
of the Stygian sun,
burning the ink that feeds
the desire to dance
free from the faceless ghosts…
I am the rebloom of the light
I feared
was l o s t in the
landscape of lament…
I choose to bathe
in the warm waters
of jasmine elegance,
sipping sultry star-beams
as my aura flowers ~
a cathartic sanctuary
where your pulse
becomes the life
that ebbs and flows
in sync with the sacred incarnate
of ripples reaching for the
soul beneath my soles ~
reminding me
of the rhythm of resilience,
to no longer allow
time to tear
the written chronicles
that even distance
couldn’t resist.
It’s in the stars; it’s our destiny.
So listen
~ meteor magic ~
O dream-reviver ~
my passion, scripted;
the angels sing of you and me,
lyrics of luck
and love-laden lore…
Pondering perils
of writing poems in rhyme,
it plunders my mind.
A poet's plaguing problem
so I propose to pen prose.
(Intro)
Psyche watched from behind blue eyes
as Flesh stared at the mirror,
the look upon the face was grim,
the heart was filled with fear.
(Psyche)
Please tell me what is wrong my friend
and why that bitter smile,
let's see if we can cheer you up,
converse with me awhile.
(Flesh)
Psyche dear, what can I say,
I'm not the man I was.
Life is catching up with me,
you know the way it does.
My hair is gray as you can see,
my teeth are falling out,
it's getting harder every day
for me to move about.
These eyes are growing dimmer,
I fear I have no hope.
The earth is calling me to rest,
I'm not sure if I can cope.
(Psyche)
I know your woes are many
from the cradle to the grave,
you've put your faith in science
that your body it may save
(Flesh)
Psyche dear, my sophic friend,
on you I can rely,
please impart to me some speech
to save me lest I die.
(Psyche)
What can I say, companion dear,
that will stem the rising tide,
I've always thought of you a friend
and to you I've never lied.
You're at the point where life's downhill,
the ride will be quite fast,
but I'll be with you till the end
when they come for you at last.
On that day I'll mourn for you
and I will feel much sorrow.
You'll return to mother earth
but I will live to see tomorrow.
It was for me that you were born
to carry me on my way,
you are for me a vehicle,
one molded from the clay.
I will not say that life is fair,
it is ordained of God.
Yes, I shall see the glory,
but you shall press the sod.
Let's end this talk my fretful friend
and chase away these blues.
Look, the sun is shining bright,
the day breaks fresh and new.
We both know the day will come,
I'll hold your hand till then.
So do not fear, but persevere,
my very special friend.
(Gail's Note: Reply Email from Subby Conscience is the sequel to this.)
To: Subby Conscience
From: [email protected]
Re: Communication between You and Me
Date: February 4, 2012
Why isn't it easy to call you at will?
Couldn't I just Twitter or email you until
You provide the answer in clear, solid terms
So that I don't have to lie in your chaotic squirms?
Instead, you tug at my psyche
And laugh at my logic.
You taunt and tug at my struggles
And sap my dream tonic.
You expose my repression
While disguised as a friend
All the while sneaking around
In my personal REM.
A swirl of feelings
Interferes with the theme.
Makes my heart pound and pound.
Makes it seem like a scheme
To interrupt sleep
And destroy my 8 hours.
To wither my psyche
And sap super powers.
And then comes the waiting
Sometimes for years
Of what this all means
Could it always be fear?
But unknown to you
Over time you are helping
To harness the pounding
And process all my days' yelpings
So that I can function in the AM and more
While you are repressed as
I cozily soar.
Published in PS: It's Still Poetry
Volume II
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REM(Gail's note: This is the sequel to the Email to Subby Conscience poem.)
To: [email protected]
From: Subby Conscience
Re: Communication between You and Me
Date: February 14, 2012
While I sneak and scheme in your chaotic REM
I am doing nothing more than being a friend.
Those dream-swirls and ‘mare-tugs purge your mind’s eye
so that your psyche can grow and won’t suddenly die.
While you’re gripping tightly to antique feelings that won’t budge
I’m prying them out; giving them a strong nudge.
And as you grudgingly work through a feeling or two
I am working my hardest to make you feel what is true.
I even may help you work out a solution or two
Because during the day you are too busy to.
Who else provides perks that allow you to be
both young and old in the very same dream?
So tell me dear, and answer me this.
What would you do if many nights I missed
And was sneaking around in another soul’s REM
What would your sanity be like then?
Without my help to work out thoughts
That keep you quite sane…
Would you then turn around
And try to cast blame?
Saying Subby’s absence caused you to act like a drip?
Saying Subby’s absence caused your tongue to Freudian slip?
Instead your mind can skyrocket and cozily soar
After I recede in the A.M. and work behind your mind’s door.
Published in PS: It's Still Poetry
Volume II
A girl more enchanting than the most beautiful Goddess
With her long shining hair falling over her white dress
Was sitting on the cold stairs of her marble stone palace
With a tear running down her fair ivory face
Weeping for a love she once held so secure
In her heart made of a thread so firm and pure
Before trust was deceived by envious means
Separating her from the man of her dreams
He who never in a lifetime had wanted to leave her
Was now walking alone on a bridge and the river
Below reflecting the dim light of the moon and the stars
Couldn't make him forget the pain and the scars
Still he didn't want to leave her alone
Since in his heart he knew that she was his home
During her hard time of trial and distress
He stood by her side, trying to find a way out of this mess
With logic and luck she accomplished her tasks
Overcoming the shadows vain Venus had cast
A box of beauty, of no use to her, but carelessly opened
Could have sealed Psyche's fate, she fell to the ground
But Cupid was right there and kissed her awake
Because for true love it's never too late
Psyche looked into his eyes and she knew
They'd be bound forever by the words 'I love you'
In the shadow of my ID
My ego cowers in shame
So conflict and friction
Like yin and yang
All take part in this game.
There's a crazyness inside me,
Im afraid to let out
It provokes & disturbs me,
Sometimes, I need to scream,
out loud
Its not a danger to anyone,
Its just a voice, I hear.
A voice without reason,
That I cannot share.
Sometimes the voice tells me,
What I chose not, to hear.
I drown these thoughts
& keep buzy, Misplace &
erase the fear...
Some call it crazy,
without a reasonable
Doubt, I prefer to call it ,
normal
only Turned inside out.
Maybe im confessing,
that I am " crazy"
In a unusual way.
Because, im not ashamed ,
it helps me Cope, with each day.
Sometimes it warns me of danger
That I need to stay away.
Other times it Comforts me.
When it tells me what to say.
Now I welcome &
embrace these feelings
& everything I see.
Knowing it can be destorted
By my own reality.
I cant get rid of it
A constant presence
in my mind.
No longer do I shun it,
My crazy psyche,
Is just fine...
As Freud describes humankind
With three divisions of the mind
Motivations now defined
Id is present from our birth
Driven by pleasures of the Earth
Wants and impulse, no self-worth
Balance, reason from the Ego
Deciding pleasures to forgo
Acting master of status quo
Super Ego stands its guard
Ensuring morals are not marred
Decision making it bombards
Balanced within yet torn by conflict
Three small forces that contradict
One that’s free and two restrict
Combined the three make who we are
From the normal to the bizarre
Psychoanalysis from afar
If I have to do a psychoanalysis of self;
I’d say, I’m of hyper anxiety ridden mind
Constantly in some sort of mental pressure.
The vibrations generate more conflict
akin the communal disturbances of the social fabric.
I’m anxious to meet my expectations or much,
To be, to do, to turn or to become....
When the depressive psyche -
reflects Its true content – complex psychosis originates.
I’m a patient with abnormal insight
A rare genius in his own accord.
I mean in your thinking lies your brain
In your living the mind; if you are as beautiful
As you think. You are as genius as you sense.
I wish not give pseudo remarks on my being,
for; no psychologist can read you better than self.
I remember childhood carousel mirrors,
antique, ornate, intoxicating, glimmering,
glinting, gleaming, turning,
calliope piping, toy top twirling, shimmering.
I remember all those early years of yearning.
I remember grainy analog TV,
pallid, pasty-faced, fuzzy vestiges,
wavy-gray shadow-shades so giddy.
I remember the vapid, vacant egregious,
the dull corporate thievery of the airwaves.
I remember polychromatic butterflies,
splodgy, splotchy, wavy, Lepidoptera,
dewy glorious mornings playing in a puerile land.
I remember wispy pastels, childish whispered chimera hopes.
We all wanted to believe in the carousel.
I remember wooden yearlings swirling,
ponies pumping, rolling, my resemblance careening,
my semblance of being aspiring in glittery silvery sterling.
I remember so many seraphs pirouetting,
all silently streaming, mercifully redeeming.
I remember childhood carousel mirrors.
If lovers of lovers had a story self-reflect would look upon a river and share old wise tells
Would it perhaps be nacrracsitic or shallow
Or knee deep to jump in
Idealism or fantasy I say turn the page
If my child was that of divine whisper among the Hampton of the Heaven’s
Thrones and berries that of the fine wine should one bless among each bread basket
Yet to say to learn of perfection that of affections attain by the vision to learn of
Another language of communication would be Inferior to not that of a touch that of
Apparatus as a kiss of hand of risk morning good bed
Sleep of a morning covers the way that it wraps around her body would be a gift
Send from heaven
What wakes turn morning into not such a another day
but a beautiful bluish day I said her love
Sight and mind give me a vision would be perhaps be common sense
If gentlemen attire is to catered to her love passion assure the passage of the storm
Apure and tell me how deep is one love
If continuum was a option would one value the option perhaps would one said
Eternal fatefully gracefully awakes or would old wise tell of such
Passion that awakes
How rare is Tuberose and Delphinium growing together
What beautiful texture and sense it make love among stars
Perhaps Apuleius could sing a carol tell if cupid arrow ever MISS the attire
Those that ask are welcome tell me if fashion matters?
I question not of love but ask
does love every grow old
Rake
My nails down my face
Take
Nothing from my disgrace
Fake
My smiles and place
Nails
Down my skin down my arms
Fails
To stop all the harm
Rails
Keep me back but alarmed
Pain
One succeeds the other
Name
Called but no bother
Maim
Feeling hot red and spiky
Which should I hurt, my skin or my psyche
I wonder
I wonder if
I wonder if there
I wonder f there is
I wonder if there is anything
I wonder if there is anything above
I wonder if there is anything above Self Interest