Dividing the lines that are indistinguishable and blurred,
Separating realities, looking for a cure,
Mending the inequities,
That have made my heart impure.
Contradicting visions, cloud my mind,
Opening avenues to help define,
Indiscriminate thoughts I won't resign,
Heart and soul, together align.
To myself, I'll always be true,
Lanes open, down a new avenue,
Life now shining a brighter hue,
Troubles now are but a few.
Tossing away associates, relying on Friends,
Impure thoughts, my mind tries to bend,
Battling sobriety, I'll always fend,
Making life better, there's a means to the end.
So moving forward, I will not rest
Giving him to thoughts that I detest,
Tossing impure emotions, that I have best,
Staying sober in this never-ending quest.
I think the first sign, at least to my mother,
was at the age of five
when I broke half the bones in my right hand
and did not shed a single tear.
I did not even pause long enough
for the pain to be considered an event.
I simply carried on with my day,
until she noticed the unusual swelling softening
the lines of my delicate hand.
She searched my face for agony -
for some proof that I remained tethered
to the ordinary laws of suffering.
But I only watched the swelling bloom beneath my skin,
with the detached curiosity
of a child watching daisies open in a spring field.
She stared at me then,
as though she had glimpsed something
standing behind my eyes:
a creature that had learned to consume pain
as casually as sugar dissolves on the tongue.
Perhaps the fracture was indistinguishable
from what I had already been taught to endure,
Perhaps it was far easier to bear
than the violence that lived unspoken within my mind.
Or perhaps it was simpler still:
I no longer found difference between agony and living.
One did not interrupt the other.
They had learned to coexist —
indistinguishable,
unremarkable,
one.
We breathe in the shadows, perfecting the lie,
While the truth of us screams in a hushed lullaby.
I am stained by that kiss—by the heat, by the sin,
By the way that you let me and the cold universe in.
You were the brave one, the first to break through,
But now I am haunted by the ghost of you.
I am tearing apart in the way i wait for your touch,
Loathing the fact that I want you this much.
Was it a whim? Just a flicker of grey?
Or does the same fever consume you today?
The unknown is a killer, deep in the vein,
A craving for pleasure that’s indistinguishable from pain.
The guilt is a shadow I can't seem to shed,
A heavy, dark cover I wear in bed.
When the world demands we play out our part,
In the wreckage of us, hold me in your heart.
I am drowning in "maybe”, in secrets and salt,
Loving you feels like a beautiful fault.
If this is a ruin, let the heavy stone fall,
But if you are with me—if you feel it all—
Then let the shame burn until we are apart,
And forever, please, hold me in your heart.
A glaring light cast shadow
The angle reflected a fractured image
The colors brush stroked edges
Dancing on the breath of critics
Words almost as indistinguishable
As what they attempted to capture
The essence of an artist’s desire
To challenge their perception of art
Someone asked no one in particular
“what is it supposed to be”
I walked away muttering
“looks like a wet cat to me”
The day after your passing
You met me on a trek
I sound out of my mind
To you I would expect
I walked miles upon miles
To prolong the experience
I felt you there beside me
Matching my every step
You wanted to console me
But you only sighed
As I felt us become one
Your force entered my stride
I could feel your broken heart
When it synchronized with mine
No doubt that it was you
Things will get better with time
You don't have to stick around
But that’s what angels do
I promise you I’m good now
Who am I trying to fool?
But you owe me nothing more
This life with plenty jewels
What more could I ask from you
Sustaining a life that you created
Is what a fathers supposed to do
In the flesh we cannot see you
But surely, you are here
Death is an illusion
Energy never disappears
Your striking image in my children
The indistinguishable ears
Thank you father for your grace
How bitter sweet the tears
There it is
Shadow rising to the top
Like scum from a fresh milking
I can not turn away
Glimpses flash
A rattling doorknob
My body feels heavy
Terror
My bedroom window
Footprints in the snow
Laughing at my suspicion
But it happened
My womb fell out
My barrenness returned
The sacred moments, scarred
Intimacy, indistinguishable
Fog, so much density
Questions without answers
Accusations without provocation
Grief
Smudges on my glasses
A cross stands in my heart
Denial drives the nails
But it happened
My BODY kept the memory, though my mind broke under Judas
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-8-2025
Politics is the art of the possible
And of the impossible too
Politicians make you responsible
For all the bad things they do
The people from other countries
Despise you although they know
You’ve no power to finish this
Art of the impossible show
So you are a pariah nation
You are never an individual
It is you who waits at the stations
But still your train is not visible
It is you who’s no goal to achieve
Who is relentlessy condemned
It is you who should never be
Indistinguishable from them
Because politics is an art
Unfortunately, not a science
Every day makes a new start
Every week it’s a new alliance
Politics is the art of the possible
And of the impossible too
Should’ve been a museum fossil
But it’s not, cause one’s dreams come true.
Harsh asymmetrical contour following dislocated noncontextual departure.
Roaming, haphazardly choreographed with precise misaligned determination.
Mindfully staggering indistinguishable purpose, consistently in linear circumnavigation.
A matter of process, a state of perpetual traversal, saves from permanence.
The ad infinitum of specificity is quantum, the superposition allowing consistent continuity while indelibly transposing by observance.
Redundant to its operation, yet necessary in its function.
Leaving spaces unfiled by way of impetus, whilst evidently consiquential.
Paradoxically self referential, pertinently inescapable ever presence.
Between the blades of dewy grass
Mingle the particles of fresh dust
Their colour bleached to grey.
A bird descends and pecks for food,
Finding nothing it ascends today
Climbs higher than the trees, away.
Weeks go by without a soul
Tending the ever growing grass.
I chose that tranquil spot
For them to be blended in the soil
That many years before received
The bleached grey dust of her lover.
The years will effectively combine
Them in the soils embrace and then
She will be lost, untraceable,
Indistinguishable, shall become one.
My parent's will be done.
© Allen Ansell 2025
How do you feel about me,
What prevails now - hate, or indifference?
Or I’m too dimmed to be seen
Indistinguishable at the distance
In case you would like to know
How do I feel about you
I can’t describe it, but I can show
If you would let me to do
But you don’t like to reply
Anticipating there’s nothing new
You’ll hear, and maybe that’s why
The TV and facebook have you
Am I wrong, or right, if it matters
Tell me something you’d like me to hear
Before I get swamped with long letters
Come to see me, while we are here.
If true
that old age
is but a bad habit …
what can youth become
_____
Divorcing passion
from intellect
Two orphans
created
Homeless together
— inside of one soul
_____
If you want
to be free
First
be a prisoner
A captive
of prescience
An inmate
— of self
-------
Contradiction …
a privilege of freedom
--------
Knowledge is a prison
— and freedom its bars
--------
The pedantic
philosopher
Indistinguishable
— from the fool
(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)
Within
Within the stillness, faint echoes of sounds can be heard
Late night hours, grappling with what is real and the absurd
Hearing indistinguishable voices, conversations overheard
Perhaps just a past memory, lost subconsciously interred
Within the darkness, where all your senses come alive
Clashing with all your fears, deepest emotions revive
Blackness surrounding you, a light thumping arrives
Awakening your heart, kindling your strength to survive
Within the amber light, first light begins to appear
Twilight upon you, your dreamscape interferes
All memories of your dreams suddenly disappear
Eyes adjusting to the light, mind becoming clear
Within that moment, both clarity and confusion begin
Your thoughts and emotions emerge to your chagrin
Those questions and queries making your mind spin
All of these take you on your solemn journey within
A man-made lake,
The surface shimmers like glitter in the sun,
Idyllic surroundings boast of trees and grass,
The water is clear, crystalized with perfect visibility.
A near-perfect replica indistinguishable from a distance,
Only when you draw closer can you see its imperfections.
The water is shimmering but, with vanity and filter,
The trees and grass are hiding violence, hate and the death of culture,
The lakebed is a window into humanity’s desire
The simultaneous picture of perfect beauty and of fire.
To auto-generate your surroundings is to live a second life,
One by choice and by addiction designed for fight or flight,
Using our impulses against us to conquer and divide,
Protecting us from thoughts coming ‘from the other side’
This illusion of a safety net draws us into harms way,
Learning our behaviors, our triggers and politics
As we feed it everyday
Never before has it been more relevant to question our free will,
Is it us or the machines that are ordering us to kill?
Unity is not a mass of indistinguishable voices all making the same claim.
Unity is a city where poets write and craftsmen create and warriors hone their skill.
6 October 2023
"Communication is key", they said.
But this key,
Once turned in...
...Opens the door full of
Fearful experiences,
Humiliation and
never ending dreadful thoughts.
Yet the sense of uncertainty,
Still prevails.
It fills the gaps in my mind and heart,
With thoughts so varied,
Yet, indistinguishable they stay.
This doubt still pertains,
In an endless, haunting loop.
This door shall never be opened.
A profound decision, I must say.
Let the world collapse,
Let the war commence...
My resolve remains.
This door shall never be opened.
"Communication is key", they said,
But please, oh god, please,
Let that key,
Be forever hidden.
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