Long Mind's eye Poems
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Having loved ones is an incredibly comforting feeling, but when you enter the vast
landscape of the mind and see only depression and despair, you become aware
that you are alone in your misery. Clinging to the last threads of sanity It feels as if
you are spiraling into a bottomless black abyss.
All sense of responsibility, joy, hope, drive, ambition and any concern for life are
gone like a whisp of smoke. There is no comfort offered when looking deeply into
who you are. Everything that you once held dear seems so pointless in the eternal
perspective of time. There is no escape from the futility of it all. Will I make a
difference or at least be a descent human being. If I do, what difference will it
make. Countless times have I looked into the never ending realm of insanity and
longed to leap into its welcoming arms. I can think of no greater blessing than to
lose one's capacity for self awareness.
Would I fall for all eternity or through the destructive force of madness find
normalcy. It all seems so hopeless. Some say life passes so fast that you should
cherish every moment. But, living out the drudgery of each day seems an eternity to
me. If I focus hard enough my minds eye sees exactly who I am. I have a self
loathing, over burdened, depressingly active, mentally challenged, sarcastic, twisted
thinking process. Process usually indicates order. Not in my case. My mind plumets
into a cold unfeeling wasteland that sends me into fearful fits of confusion where I
am overwhelmed with unrelenting incomparable anger. I ponder an escape , but I
realize I am destined to wallow in the company of despair and futility for all eternity
and deservedly so. Then it finally dawns on me that through my foolish decisions
and self destructive actions I have fulfilled my mission in life to be a stench filled
mass of human waste. I grieve for those who know the loneliness I feel when
journeying into the depths of the seemingly twisted internal machinations of my
mind. It is the only place that in all respects you are truly alone. I no of no other
place where hopelessness reigns as it does in the deep recesses of who I am. It
makes me wonder if I might be God's only mistake.
A dream broken open left to decay away
Another undoing left to go through the skewing and the scathing
Called raving mad, angry, and sad
As above so below
We are what we know
I won't go away so easily repeatedly
Told eyes of golden beauty to the monstrous reapers keeper
"You will never be anything of what you seek"
"What we have you never reach"
Sad and bitter truth in a world obsessed with outer appearances and disgusted by the thin shell of our bodies crust
What lies beneath should be sook but pray never is
First show us aesthetically appeal, kneel and, never speak against us
Our world is filled with many beautiful things pray we are complex and contradictory to those things but,
Give us wings and we can soar higher then the heavens past the moon
Past now past soon
Pray me an ugly thing who saw beauty in everything and now my scorched heart bleeds to a broken beat and i no longer see those things as I once did
I fled or they hid
Now I run with the sun and the monster they saw I became
Driven insane by the ravenous and perpetual stream of my minds eye
I have forgotten how to cry
Lost amongst the ashes in a time well remembered
A cold, dark, and bitter December but,
My hope though a dying ember still burns and it yearns to ignite
Here in the words I write
In the nights I lay awake and toss to turn my view of this dark abyss of broken dreams into my one wish
I used to wonder what crashing thunder could bring and i would sing so loud so proud of everything and everyone
I was shunned made a fool
I no longer hold out my hand in hopes of camaraderie
Beauty took the best of me it cannot have the rest of me
I keep myself well hidden from the world around me
A diamond unrefined still shines in the light but dims in the dark of night
I will glow when the day finds me and be sullen and cold when the night binds me
Forever golden, Forever frozen
A contradicting scheme of unfathomable torment
A wide river flowing endlessly with harsh turns, rigid rocks, and cold that shocks
At every turn another fall into a deep well an icy hell
This river that twists and turns you that scorns and burns you lasts for eternity
It rages on endlessly
This is my reality
A raging river searching for the sea
Paradise, the only word that can encapsulate the emotion felt while looking into her eyes.
Her soft, gentle hands intertwined with mine; truly the epitome of glorious bliss.
Her angelic poise beckons my awe, proving, she once resided in the heavenly skies.
Our souls have surely found their long awaited mates, for our love cannot be dismissed.
But the thief name life seems to want her for himself; conjuring war for my service implore.
Grief impales our joyous moments, spewing horrid thought of our hands unclasp.
But refuse I cannot; for if I am not a patriot I shall be called a traitor.
My heart aches as from paradise I am torn; forced to answer the call of the draft.
Weeks pass like months as the days seem to linger; leaving only the night stars to ponder.
Wondering if she too is looking up at the sky; with a smile on her face, and her beautiful eyes.
Holding on to the love we once felt; awaiting the day of my gaze again capture.
Drifting off to sleep where she meets my minds eye; for dreams is where my hope resides.
But sleep is one thing that I have a short supply of; for war does not wait on dreamers.
Shipped off to the battle with only a rifle, a pack, and cartridges with bullets intact.
Fear weighs like blazing hot coals searing my mind and soul with its glowing red embers.
As my boots touch the vile, blood stained land, bullets zip by my ears hoping my head to impact.
Rushing through the blanket of bodies covering the sand; finding a rock for the bullets deflect.
The ricocheting projectile's vibration can be felt through the rock; shaking my inner courage.
Grasping my rifle, I take aim at a man I will never know; for it's his life I must collect.
The bullet cuts through the dense air; piercing skin, breaking bone, and his soul ravage.
But, no celebration will be had, for my side felt the cold burn of metal piercing skin.
Falling to the sand with my hand holding the wound; I cry out for help but no aid comes through.
My vision darkens as the battle rages; senses fading into the quiet calm abyss within.
And the last thing I see; a star, taking me back to the paradise my soul once succumb to.
So much, do I desire -
of that which I may never have
Upon the retina of my minds eye –
burned deep, are the images of your face.
Upon my synoptic, lies the essence of you –
burned into the psyche of this man.
upon the empty hours of my days, my nights,
my soul cries out, reaches out to touch you.
My spirit cries out with a desire to fly with you,
my heart cries out with my love for you,
my eyes cry out, they bleed for the sight of you,
my being cries out with a gift of love for you,
cries out with pain, knowing that my love,
my desire, my passion, my hopes for you,
all lie in burning flames, of a funeral pyre –
of fallen dreams, of dashed hopes,
of my unfulfilled reveries.
My dreams, hopes, desires, reveries, are but ashes, all are destroyed by the indifferent winds of times passed, of experiences lost, of memories never born, of all that haunts you – created the fear .
I fear that my dream will never see the light of day ( reality ) nor dance among the stars, the beams of light from a full moon, may never mazurka to the tunes of love, as one or even together .
Fulfillment
I want to tear down your stone walls, lift your veil.
I want to sweep away all the debris, then your face.
I would love to kiss the beauty I see in your soul,
in your spirit, I know resides within your intellect.
I want to know your inner and outer beauty,
passed your heart buried –
behind those cold, hard steel doors, in the walls erected
to keep me at bay, to keep me away, to keep me from
( from my dream, all I desire ) touching you.
I would love to kiss the lady, the artist, my dream,
the free spirit, I know resides, within you.
I would love to walk – forever – hand in hand,
arm in arm, with all of that, which makes up
the beautiful woman, person I see.
I would love to kiss away the past, your pain.
Kiss life into – what I feel – is your stagnant passion.
I desire, so much, to kiss your gorgeous mouth,
your sweet lips, your pulchritudinous smile.
Kiss fire into those Autumn green eyes of yours
And into every molecule, every atom,
every strand of DNA that has gone into creating
the woman, the beauty, the Moneca!!!
Darkness looms, even in the stariest of night.
Fears come forth attacking those with sight.
You hinder, you holler, but no one can see, what my minds eye is trying to tell me.
I myself cannot, place a finger hold.
I myself cannot, hear what is told.
I myself cannot, be ever so bold.
With shaking hands, and knotted gut,
Thoughts litter the soul, for what?
Anxieties fester, emotions run high,
Dreams or visions flying by.
What is truth, neigh it false?
Be it death or with a pulse.
Aromas, auditory signs come with;
having sight, not always a gift.
When one cannot gather what's meant to be.
Why was sight given to me?
The dead come, memories they share.
Of people I don't know, raping my mind bare.
Messages, colors, gems or smells.
Reminders that not all is well.
Nor Gods, nor demons, we understand.
Nor Angels, nor the power of the common man.
Nor past, nor future shall bestow.
Her eyes show only transverse modes.
To feel others pains, to share in their sorrows.
Makes life unbearable at times, to search for brighter 'morrows.
To keep the secrets from prying ears.
Acting normal for many years.
To bear the fruit of others labors.
Wish upon wishes, thankless favors.
"Turn to your tarot cards" my horoscope did say.
I have yet to do so, till this day.
May it be because of fear.
May it be because I don't want to hear; what spirit may speak.
May it be because I don't want to seem weak.
Black magic,
Voodoo dolls,
Fortune tellers,
See'ers of all.
Shall I choose to open the cards?
Being sure to take safeguards.
Only seek the light and love.
Only seek the information from above.
It is odd when a spirit takes hold.
As though you're not listening to what's being told.
Your body reacts in so many different ways.
JUST TELL ME ALREADY, my minds ablaze.
When unable to tell if good or bad.
Sensations have been known to drive people mad.
What ever it was has since returned.
This story is what's happening, pages turned.
Colors and whispers, they unfold.
There is something unfortold.
BUT WHAT? PLEASE JUST TELL ME?
OR OTHERWISE, PLEASE JUST LET ME BE.
~mp (copyright protected)
Factory Recall
I looked beyond The Open Door
into a mystical Soul Factory
There amidst the unboxed souls
was Invisible Jim and The Ghost.
The ghost’s skin was reflective like a mirror
allowing me to see The Lines on my Face.
The factory was an unusual place
with floors carpeted in Dandelions
At each station angels sang a Star Baby Lullaby
I asked one “What are you doing?”
She smiled and responded
“I am installing a Patriotic Pause.”
An overhead speaker blared
“It is time for Designated Rain,”
I was careful to protect
the Butterfly in My Pocket.
Workers started moving
so I asked “Where are you going?”
“We are Stepping into The Temple.”
“May I ask Why?” “Sure, we are Searching For Jesus.”
So I followed the Girl With The Quiet Voice.
I was unsure How To Feel,
so I began by Lending Both Hands.
It helped in Finding My Way..
I was then joined by The Borrower.
He Was the one Who I Am
but Some Time we’re not Close Enough to Know.
Perhaps I need some Kimo Therapy
I was directed to Rose in The Garden.
Her roots had Deep Inclinations.
Would I Abandon all for This Dark Lover?
She set me on my Memory Go Round.
That place of Painted Ladies and Weeping
There I searched for Guys Advice in a Fools Paradise
Inside of me A Sense of Emptiness,
still she would become my Favourite Mistake.
She Touched The Water and my soul
becoming My Ocean.
Still I have Unanswered Questions
Some might say a Bad Bargain Made.
At the Soul Factory I left behind
my Church Perfect Surface.
In my Minds Eye the Screen Flickers.
Change Ain’t Easy but now I’m Different.
The breeze Whispered Your Name.
While I was looking for Psychedelic Sound!
No I know why I Can’t Get High Enough.
Instead let me rest in a the place of Chaotic peaceful Thoughts.
There I can sit under the Wisdom Tree
and listen to The Quiet One.
That garden where angels do the Butterfly Dance.
I long to languish there in Rainbow Coloured Camouflage.
By Richard Lamoureux
I wrote this one for Charlie’s contest using my titles from past poems. I didn’t read the directions properly so wrote another one that I entered.
One of many, a new world order, each day my minds eye sees another shade colder. The stars and the stripes mean a lot in my heart, the founding fathers message, why’d it have to depart? When tyranny strikes this land, in the guise of enemies overseas, the grand scam was planned, our true role in the middle east. They said rebellion to tyranny is obedience to god, repeating the term tyranny as if to foreshadow a facade.
We fund the terrorists right? Then they turn their backs on us, same thing happened with Saddam, the bubble surely busts. Brought him up on a rope, then hung him with the same, our flag should be all red, that’s the color we have stained. Liberty won’t last, unless the knowledge spreads like fire, we’re past that stage already, plan unfolding they conspired.
Trading liberty for security, simply doesn’t work, for we end up losing both, behind the masks they sit and smirk. Sermons written by a man, god’s will never inked, for what was written could’ve been contorted by a shrink; a racist or a murderer, could have written anything. Yet questioning is out of the question, so falsehood we will cling. The day our minds awaken as one, the liberty bells will ring!
Take our America back, before it’s far too late, tyranny is lurking, through deception guides their traits. Whoever issues currency, controls the state as well, writing all the rules of the road, we’re lodged to buy and sell. Snatch the rights from our hands, for the private and elite, everything and the shirt on our back, even how we speak. Guns will kill a man, though a system thats deceives, will rob the world of substance, stripping love to leave light thieved.
A government so vast, they could grant your every wish, then feed you till you overflow, still you don’t know how to fish. Could grab it back at any time, don’t believe me just you wait, trampling the constitution, truly seals our fate. You call it patriotism, I say that it’s a veil, want to know where the blood is shed? Just follow the paper trail. Liberty once lost is truly gone forever, so with speed we need to plant the seeds to restore; to solve this grand endeavor!
The name of transformation
lost forgotten in the pages
three different lives
made to look like one
the witch that was
the voodoo queen
and the diary that was
the lines in the sands
and what it wasn't
user friendly schism
dialing six digits of the differences religion made
wondering what holiday to betray me
on the other line today
a circus mindgame to findmyself
wrapped up in the saints
the treason of the way it was written
so we could do it again
an hour late with a letter
the psychosis of the muse
the scribes found
vibe was transformed
the victomisation of a future long forgotten
ill dignified lies
lie in the sands
of the things that went unsaid
the diary of the mad man
the actions upon the voodoo queen
heart to heart if you know what i mean
nothing is or was or could be what it seems
childrten chimney sweeps
sheep protecting the cows
dressed up for winter as sheep
men turned to stone by a woman defined by beauty
silly strings tied to me
trust yourself
you cant trust me
stumbling this way
pulling through delusions
what is reality anyway
a miracle game of adults for children
and now your learning to swim
madman's diary of the voodoo queen
the ressurection that was
how it became
lost forever
the tower fell
freedom of slaves
to free your children
dialing six digits of yesterday
who am i anyway
a warrior of serenity
a disco ball for my tango shoes
and a cold touch upon my skin
whispers to screams
the long lost
forgiven
the alphabet from your mouth
the names of numbers
the pronounciation of such things
routine breakaway
madman's diary translated
lost in the scrolls of our dead sea
where we continue dialing the digits of difference
of what we under rug sweep
closing my body now
minds eye upstairs
identity of suicidal dreams
dissapearance of self esteem
recognising my emotions
appologising to the self
for my own hurt feelings
behind the eightball
avoiding cliches senses delayed
nothing left to say
sleeping away the taste of bitter translations
tooth decay
of the voodoo queen
and the madman's diary
to tear out a love
of a scar so deep
MULTILAYERED: THE CAUSE IS CIVIL RIGHTS!
How time has changed.
I am a colored woman by DNA living in a country of diversity.
I can remember my first day of school when my teacher asked me to self-identify.
“I am Native American”, I said.
In truth, my great-grandmother was Native American and I felt it was alright to
claim her as my racial identity.
Nevertheless, an N was written on my cumulative record.
Later I found this meant *****.
The third Monday of each January Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. birthday is
celebrated.
This poem is in commemoration of his cause.
***
I have the right to express myself in the United States of America.
I have the right to self-identify the best way for me.
I am mixed-blood from all borders of this part of the universe.
I have the right to be heard and to seek a meaningful life that is vested in a liberated
mind.
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) is there
to eradicate.
This has not been done as to this day.
I have the right to Civil Rights.
Therefore, I shall not be moved when the movement did not breakthrough.
***
The tribulations came from slavery time.
History of the white man crimes
Equality, equity, and identity deprived.
Crusaders depicted the cause.
Assembled for their voice to be heard.
Unity was formed.
Sources with civilian purposes
Equality is only the foundation that has been scaffold.
Cause I am endowed with inalienable rights
In a nation of diversity and pride,
Vigorously I dramatize
Issues of my civil rights
Legally being denied.
Right to a fair trial
I represent self,
Government and justice are on my side.
Human rights are in all minds’ eye.
To this country, I bring forth my freedoms... Preamble.
Statue of law exemplifies in that I have "the right to life, liberty, and pursuit of
happiness because all humankind are created equally".
Issues today are in a manifold
Sequestered by the lack of applicable law.
_________________________________________________|
Penned January 18, 2015!
Revised July 1, 2015!
Such are these days-floating-along-the nantucket, picture-
frames of days gone by forever sublime in-my-
minds-eye ... reflected upon from time to time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ ... and oh how I live to breath this ... ~
~ Because I believe true-love is unconditional and is
the treasure so-very hard-to come by in this world,
today. Like the sweet sound of breaking the natural-
freedom-of-rhyme; and-the certain-reverence stirring
in-the spirit of a home that lives only for this; one pure
reason. Seen now-and-viewed in-the likeness-
of the-orange and red-brown and-yellow of-a-
joyous-leaf ... blowing-free-in-the-ease of
the wind; and knowing the sound of a
new hope rising-to-greet-the-greener-
grasses thriving amid-the-perfect-beauty
growing in-plain view of-the other-side of-
the morning. Stirring-in-the-depths-of-
your-heart and the-well, of your soul ...
riding-high-atop the puffy white clouds,
billowing-up-to-greet-the-light of-Heaven.
Yes-those wonderful things ... like the
birds chirping fondly and the gentle
sounds of a baby's laughter, and
slippery wet little kisses ... given-by-
the-lips-of an angel. As you-hear a
violent-shouting wake up; wake-
up-and-a-tap-tap-tapping, on
heavens bedroom door. As
then your awakened again ...
and then stumble to the
challenge of not spilling
the coffee, and you dance
once more with your lovely
daughter in the kitchen. As
she smiles as-you-spill-it-and-
yell-oh-no-tenderly and you ask
the wife if she could grab the
morning paper. Yes that freaky
tone of-a-squeaky-wet-balloon,
and the ongoing run-of happy-
little-giggles-that-fill the-air ...
rising to new heights in the
pool underneath-the-glory
of-the-summer-sun ... as your
young son splashes chlorine-water-
in-your face ... and cup. And-so-is-
love-the-prize in all its' authenticity.
Sweet-poetry ... . A true and-raw-
emotion ... boldly-running-and-
wildly shouting! "Hey!" ~
~ "Certain conditions-and-ultimatums are just fine, but-don't-you-dare-take my morning-coffee!" ~