I went into the movie theater with Joe
The plot drew me in, I went with the flow
The hero had flaws, the heroine was odd
Suddenly I leapt up and shouted "Oh God"
The emotional blowtorch had let out a blast
A reminder of my sickening past.
Joe led me outside to the cool evening air
He asked, "what possessed you to disrupt in there?"
My reaction died down, the alarm turned off
I looked around, gave an embarrassed cough.
Joe said "There's a psychiatrist down the road"
I replied, "No doctor can lighten this load."
I said that edges are blunted, when reality is stark.
I live in a watercolor picture rather than sharp
Joe downplayed my past, but looked sad:
he said "your shouting makes us look mad"
So I'll go without Joe to the movies, that's where I feel:
Maybe in that false world I briefly get real.
A cage opens that routine shuts tight
I can return to darkness when they turn on the light.
Joe and I can go fishing, that's still alright.
There’s a certain feeling after I cry.
A cool sensation pooling in my feet, threatening to crawl up my calves, never quite making it
There. A sorta hollow buzz from my knees to my stomach, feeling there but not in the way for once. Arms heavy like fatigue, but so much softer—much kinder—all the way down to the tips of my phalanges, twitching ever so softly. Aware of the thud of life—for once not so thunderous, slowly and steady.
I’d like to call this feeling calm,
I think that’s her name.
How sad do you think I truly felt,
When the rock struck her head?
She tumbled right over the cliff’s edge,
After all the blood we'd shed.
She broke my nose, she cracked my skull,
While playing the "best friend" part
All because I found a love
That she lacked in her own heart.
Such relief, isn't it?
As my mascara ran,
a fake smile was plastered.
I cannot keep trying
to wipe out every word.
The skills to mask? Plying.
As my mascara ran,
its streaks lit up my face.
Shattered cage now collapsed
set me free to find me.
Not once have I relapsed.
As my mascara ran
it was pure catharsis
that mixed with renewal.
Done with perfect poison,
going my way’s the fuel.
Don't be afraid,
to look inside yourself...
to find secret places,
with some treasures,
or dark,
hidden secrets...
Don't be afraid,
the discovery can be
a gift...
A good thing to be
developed...
A defect can
be corrected...
Knowing yourself is a
wonderful attribute...
So Live well with it...!
Here's a tribute from me to you,
Recalling the old pet cockatoo,
His very vivid vocabulary,
Cathartic swearing, so funny,
He rose at dawn, would greet the day,
Sat on perch, screeched away,
Acquired language eagerly,
Nothing polite from that old he,'
Shared his emotions with us all,
Ended each day with his call,
Sleep tight now, so suitable.
Good night, bird beautiful.
I emerge from echoes, from a dungeon so deep,
To erase the ink of inner turmoil you keep.
Thy mollycoddled soul, relegated to bits,
Here's tulsi for the bruises where life's pain sits.
I'm the crucible's fire, shaping an alchemist’s design,
An emotional release, making every space divine.
Some say pain drives art.
Is that how you fell in love with poetry?
Title:
Finding Catharsis
(A lone voice whispers)
Conjuring stanzas
Baptised sanctified with pain
To keep on floating
(575)
(C) Copyright John Duffy
The smooth ink stains bleed a crimson red with each stroke
The pages' colors publish a perilous message against the black granite surface
Black, red, white
Its message is clear
It's time to stop writing
My cathartic heart
threw away the finished leaves of bitter autumn's burning
I brewed myself a loving cup, made sweeter by my learning
tansy, bay with chamomile, bright meadow flowers to sip
tastes better far than poison to be found upon your lip
A dark angel writes in the air,
“There will be no tomorrow for you.”
Then puffs of shiny cloud ebb,
Ebony night surrounds me.
I tremble in fear.
I hover between now and never,
as if I'm traversing a rough river
on one bank: life, on the other: death.
I feel an ebbing of nothingness,
like gulping down bad breath,
or gasping in asphyxia,
between a being and non-being,
sandwiched between heaven and hell.
Which way must I go?
Lord make the right choice for me,
for I tremble in fear.
How oft had I been told,
hell is an illusion, don't believe!
Now it seems like reality and I fear.
I see my past, its rights and wrongs,
a sort of blind imbalance,
not a hair is lost.
Where is the illusion now?
Or worse is it delusion and regret,
that I could have achieved much more?
Thus I tremble in fear.
Spirals of fog surround me,
whirls of fatal mists envelop me,
a long dark tunnel with a faint light ahead.
But what lies at the end?
An ephemeral awakening or an eternal damnation?
What weapons are left for such a fight?
I can only give my soul up and pray:
O Lord, I trust in Thee.
I fear no more.
a mystic poetess in her thought patterns
of iambic heartbeats, makes new rhythms
with a symphony...joy and pain in cadence.
in her confetti of stars moonbeams cadence
caressing love in ivory and ebony patterns
perforated feelings careen melodic rhythms
in her sonnets, words entice in rhythms
lovebird's lyrics drift in endless cadence
cratered lands embellish crystallic patterns
Catharsis traces passionate patterns of rhythms in cadence.
lovers holding hands
melding with a sunset
entwine their identities
until all that is is bliss
how can a poet capture
the sublime effervescence
radiating love’s myriad hues
gently ever becoming the all
ego dissolves that we evolve
soul catharsis in a chrysalis
that that never was dies
taking us to new highs
14-February-2023
before the refreshing wind of night
I unload what's hurting me much
and stay with the suave relief of Porto wine!
there are creatures that sleep
as minerals
dream as vegetables,
wake up as animals
to be as criminal...
Regression in time and space...
Me, by my side
I, what God ordains me
I simply do
so I'll recognize who I am!
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