She lived happily in Fool’s Paradise.
Hit of thunder bolt from clear cloudless sky,
knocked her down on shock to paralyse
marital life standing on bricks of ‘LIE’.
Wheel of TRUTH rotating automatic
exposed spouse with deceit and betrayal
She faced firm fact to deal, act pragmatic,
sudden happenstance : Disgraceful, dismal.
Emptiness embowered : Life seemed useless,
shattered completely on first severe stroke,
yet she neither cried nor felt helpless,
but discarded him and relation broke.
She turned cold but bold to live on her own.
Fool’s Gold when detected fake,was thrown.
Internal Paralysis
self analysis
constant questioning
sadness festering
setting goals
yet, letting them go
wanting to live again
but questioning when
grief is overwhelming
but hope is telling
seeing the beauty
performing my duty
transforming my life
putting aside the strife
I have had nightmares of demons and hallucinations
in the pitch dark of night
leaving me paralyzed
with fright and fear
unable to speak words but screaming
unable to move away
from a hellish imp creature
his skin like a slithering snake
his voice a hissing in the night
a head upon a fat distorted body
oh, horrible disgusting creature
and another creature hovers
the hidden shape of a black horse
friend or foe
internally I am frozen and unable to wake up
I am stuck in a terrifying scene
everything in my bedroom is surreal and distorted
with the power of will I wake
weeping in my bed
I can smell him
feel his hands on my body stroking
I must have a shower to wash off his stink
that is when I see the bruises and hand prints
how is this possible
now, I keep the lights on
have become sleep deprived . . .
mind would like to identify
the point where bliss originates
some say crown, whilst others say heart
as knowing ego designates
what if each node is the centre
containing within it the all
the universe is God alone
where each awakened cell stands tall
God is in us and we’re in Him
there then is no this versus that
at the singularity point
oh hermit, what’s there to format
Paralysis of the will
mind and body breathless-still
Anon hearts stop pulsing too
skeletons assume a ghastly hue
The sleep demon
Comes by in the evening
When you should be dreaming
So why are you screaming?
You drift off to sleep
You start to feel weak
But then you can’t speak
Not even a squeak
A shadow appears
It wakes up your fears
It’s a fear that you recognize
It leaves your body paralyzed
No you can’t scream
you’re dead silent
You feel the weight
Of an invisible giant
It grabs you by the soul
Don’t let it take you whole
You’ve gotta fight it back
Before it fades to black
Because the sleep demon
Comes by in the evening
When you should be dreaming
So why are you screaming?
Notice our consciousness has no centre,
shifting between head to toe as it likes,
each pore a door through which grace can enter,
bliss magnetism getting a million likes,
as ineffable rapture in heart spikes.
Some speak of heart and others of third eye;
all concepts deemed false since we wingless fly.
In a small room where the shadows grew large
I was thinking about my escape
Like a fisherman’s catch
Cast back into the greatest lake of Michigan
The room grew dim, and then glowed red
And cast me off into a deep sleep
Mind open, body stuck,
Climbing the deck of a boat-
Escape
As my body froze and I was fastened
To the cold relentless metal
And I opened my eyes
I never felt the tender brush of sleep again
At 3:00am I found myself outside,
Mind was awake but flesh was in deep deep sleep,
A sense of ghostly presence-I couldn't see.
A heavy shadow weighed upon my chest,
All breaths and thought turned into a dreadful rest.
I felt cold, dumb and naive,
When someone close to me whispered my name.
A moment when couldn't even wail,
Couldn't speak and move even my eyelids refused to fall,
My shuddered bone marrow tried to move and hide,
But suddenly everything faded like an ephemeral cloud,
No one was there no suffocation no more fretful crowd.
I couldn't recognize was it a dream or real,
Like A lost page of a mysterious book that's never clear.
Somewhere curiosity sparked and knew what i lacked,
Intriguing isn't? Some call it's a biological( Rem paralysis)
And others a supernatural attack.
one half’s an arc the other a strobe ~ light becomes your coagulant
signals and synapses firing off sparks ~ try open eyes but you can’t
all bound together forming a dream ~ welded to the somnambulant
Ebb and flow of tides,
the way eagle glides
and how raindrops fall,
mind cannot recall.
Mind wishes to know,
source of our soul’s glow,
fragrance of a rose,
blooming in repose.
Fears that haunt and bait,
twists and turns of fate,
impacts us no more,
as it did before.
All that’s manifest,
a life test in jest,
aiding soul to rise,
in childlike surprise.
When our eye’s single,
pheromones mingle
within that we feel,
heightened bliss appeal.
Coming thus undone,
we are with God one,
fears to rest are lain
and no doubts remain.
When you look at your reflection in a mirror, what do you see?
I see a failure, and that failure is me.
I feel like I’m stuck yet I pace up and down.
My face is etched with a worrying frown.
The problem is I tend to fester and then over-think.
At times It’s so bad I feel like I need a drink.
My stomach’s in knots and my mind in a different place.
There’s just so much that I simply can’t face.
But this analysis paralysis will not be the end of me.
First steps needed – deep breaths and a cup of tea.
Music helps me to relax and to calm.
I know that I have support so I’m safe from any harm.
I’m loved by others which makes me warm inside.
I will keep on going – one day I’ll hold my head up with pride.
we walk not talk
ego stalking
we balk at truth
02-October-2022
fulcrum of the scent
bewilders the analyst ~
koel sings love songs
01-September-2022
The Man they were faithfully under
Was wasted by Judgmental Thunder:
From photographs ‘A City after Plunder’
Or rather A Bombed Statue not a blunder
A watching, finishing Morning Thunder
Scarier than Lions that tear asunder
Just remembered a hotelier admittedly wicked,
All his female staff to often go naked:
As early as Six in the morning,
Bum shorts that set The Heart a-mourning
Or sometimes a bizarre miniskirt
Upholding nothing but Spiritual Dirt …
If he lived would continued to along lumber
And much shortened years on Earth number
Or around walking with a sure paralysis
That would keep laughing at Analysis …
I tell you-Yep-The fullest stroke
For which one wouldn’t recognize a bloke.
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