As far as anyone can tell, I am alive and well,
But I am still trying to end my persistent depressive spell
Through resilience and love, even as I go through Hell.
Is there another version of you
Where your eyes aren't this pretty
Your voice not so husky
Your hair unkempt
Your body frail?
Is there another version of you
Where your laughter isn't lilting
Where you aren't always smiling
Where you let yourself be?
Is there another version of you
where you cry in the open
And appear weaker to the world
Is there another version of you
The one thst you hide from everyone else
Where you aren't such an extrovert
Where you aren't always chirpy
Is there another version of you
Where you are cold and shivering
And not always this warm
a version that you keep to yourself?
Silence digs into my bones.
Tears trace slow paths along my ribs.
Shadows press tight against my chest.
Somewhere inside, a stubborn pulse keeps moving.
Grief shapes its own voice…
rough, uneven, alive.
I listen. I answer.
It teaches me to move with pain as my companion.
without letting it break me.
My words falter,
raw and unfinished.
And still, they rise…
a quiet insistence that I am here,
that I am not gone.
Now, the pain speak.
I hold it. I breathe with it.
In hearing it,
I gather my own strength,
my heart holds firm,
my voice takes shape,
my whole self rises.
If you’re told a lie long enough
You believe it.
(9/20/25)
Town agemo and aitvaras rep ahimsa
Contranym their only sin for cryptomnesia
They parasitically exsanguinate hostages
To kenose psychalgia entoptic phenomena
Runs into scotoma in their Aceldama
Prosopagnosia blurs past agnosia
Aphenphosmphobic thanatophobia
Cadavre exquis perversion
Abomination namarupa failed zombie
I realized a heartfelt reason why.
For you and I, I do want to try.
How I felt was slowly magnetized
In a way I never until now realized.
I realized how you and I are the same.
For you and I, I am ending my game.
How I feel will gradually grow
As you and I appreciatively go slow.
I realized maybe we were fated to meet.
For you and I, I shall surrender in defeat.
How I feel will soothe your aching heart,
As you and I gently embrace this new start.
I realized you suffer the same way as I do.
For you and I, I will see through to you.
How I felt from the start inspires me
To embrace who you really are truly.
Prose of self imprisonment, in lieu to my self-risen-ment
Errected un-hourly to squark at my un-symmetry
And squander the squalor of dirtied mind
Cleansed to find the finest within the polluted rites
The squalor of impunitive squander hath dirtied the fishing rites
And awakened my soul at the fisherman's hour
T'wave thee 'Tally Ho!'
F'the dirtied mind enacted me, the foe
Now I, the fittest t'await and ponder
Shall await fished imprisonment and feed the sonder rays that dare awaken thee.
F'the dirtied mind has collected the tide,
To pollute mine own body.
Nightmare Truths
She hides the truth in nightmare screams,
Refusing to voice fevered dreams,
As moon bent shadows climb the wall,
To bring more demons to her hall.
Those who know her will see no tears,
She locks them away—shows no fears,
Fights her scars in silence alone,
Growing harder her heart of stone.
My Dream Within A Dream Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
9/16/2025
Edgar Allan Poe: "All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream."
My Dream Within A Dream
Somnambulant dreamer,
Dancing in time to silent music,
Pirouetting arabesques,
And grand jetés performed as on stage.
While all around her people stared,
Astonished by what this darling dared.
Leaping, spinning, and body rolls,
She danced through her dream out of control.
Tumbles and twirls, tempo frenzied,
Her youth and beauty were so envied.
Lithesome grace utterly entrancing,
This young beauty caught dream dancing.
So lost in the dream, her steps faltered,
Lovely dancer, soon to be martyred.
Upon the pyre of lust and greed,
Selfish desires of the watchers' need,
Pulled against the dancer's grace,
And brought a tear to the lovely face.
The crowd's screams broke the count,
Her mistakes began to mount,
Until what once was sweet and pure,
Became something so unsure.
The dream, a nightmare instead,
The dance, a thing of terrible dread,
Our lovely dancer dreams no more.
Where is it we are heading
If not where we began,
But when we arrive
There is now a difference.
Hamsters on their wheel
Are always striving and always arriving
Since clearly the journey is the goal.
And yet there must be some goal
Held in sight, some vision to pull us
As we run round and round
Otherwise we would simply stop,
And, if truly a hamster,
Eat some of the roses.
(9/18/25)
Perhaps ...,
if I were to hold the whole world
in the palms of my hands amidst
the wavering and not its weights
nor the blinded truth burrowed
its mountainous out fathomed
with tethered skin turned about
scoping its expansive route
of its veiled pit succumbed
to twisted fate as the sinner buddies
innocence, gripping the willful
to withdraw slipping its handful
of a woeful world's fallacies
albeit afeared spirit stirred
warmth deceived cold corrects
quivering under vain texts
whilst folly sifted, lest perturb I'd
perhaps ...
(“Eye of God”, 2018, mixed media encaustic and mirror glass)
Everyone reflects the infinite
Within the finite pool of their mind.
The universe is vast
And yet it shines within us all.
If our minds are full of fear and hate
We will see hate all around us.
If our minds are full of love
We will see love all around us.
The universe contains it all
And so can we.
If we want to know what our minds are like,
What we are really like,
Look no further than how we see the world.
(9/17/25)
(“Dark Pool Nebula”, 2011, original oil)
Different Worlds
I travel to different worlds in my dreams,
In my mind, even day by day
With different aspects of my self
In this one body.
As I get older I see we all live in different worlds,
Determined by what we believe, how we are raised,
And what we learn.
Sometimes we can stand on the same street corner
And be in totally different worlds as we chat.
Some people know all about this
And some are totally clueless,
Yet still we are all in our own world.
Is this a problem that needs to change?
I don’t think so
It is just the nature of things
The nature of having a mind
Especially so with an independent mind.
So maybe it is good the way things are.
What is bad is trying to change this
Trying to make everyone conform.
But how would it be if a fish thought itself
A bird, or a bird a fish,
Or a man a woman, or a human a god?
Some things are just not meant to be.
And so I travel to different worlds
In my dreams and in my mind,
And as I become more familiar
The worlds become more wonderful.
(9/15/25)
The death of love
Love is blocked, too many rights
I can’t touch. I can’t talk, say anything
Man has no law. I need another world
Must destroy the present one. We love
Human-made laws never control us
Adam is the law. God is the law
Modern laws killed the loves
That’s why in the crisis, humans. Humanity
Psychology is blocking the river of life
Psychology and law. Legalized crimes
Religion, God's instructions are life. Love
Never follow human-created laws. God is on
Wake up. Dead the love. I am the last one who called
Death of love’s smell is air. Don’t be too late
Follow God. Follow Eve and Adam
There was no psychology in their time
People were healthy
From God’s laws
Killed by the psycholgy
The Love
Call it karma, call it fate, call it destiny
There is a force unseen that blows our course.
And yet as we roll and tumble
We wish to be free
And so resist
Shake our fists in defiance of the gods
And innovate, invent and imagine our way
Into a better life.
But still we suffer pains and dissatisfactions
With every up and down,
Still we roll and tumble
Along the path of our destiny.
But the spark of freedom catches and glows
As we feel it is our right to be “Me!”
My body my choice, my mind my choice
My life to be self-determined…
As the path divides and turns
Into a broad tangled delta
Before the sea.
Where does it all end? We don’t know
But we can see
The desire to be our own gods of destiny
Unleashes every possibility
From Pandora’s transhuman box of demons
In our lust to just be me.
(9/15/25)
Specific Types of Psychological Poems
Definition | What is Psychological in Poetry?
Poems Related to Psychological
subjective, emotional, mental, intellectual, cerebral, experimental, imaginary, subconscious, unconscious, psychical, cognitive, in the mind, intellective,