There is a place of quiet and stillness.
It's a place of escape and spiritual rest.
It's a place to meditate, muse, and think.
It's a place to recall, renew, and remanence.
It's a place to vacate, relax, and wait.
It's where I deposit my heartaches.
It's where I admit that I am weak.
It's where I knock, search, and seek.
It's where I store my tears and weep.
It's my special place of worship and praise.
It's where the hands of my soul are raised.
It's where the knees of my heart are bowed.
It's where anxieties and fears are not allowed.
It's where war against all that's evil is declared.
It's where...
121823PS
We're honored
to carry you home
in a simple pine chrysalis
engraved with your verse.
Behind the procession
lie the whorls of living
pastels of decay...
From all the chaos the soul will ascend.
Beyond the cloud-kissed steps
beautifully winged, so delicate.
Dear friend,
Are all the answers now within your grasp?
The breath of God-the heart of infinity
Pulsating in the purest purity
from which every angel cascades
in glades of clover minted with infinity
high in a hushed lavender mist...
Void of stresses of the flesh
here is where the mind can finally rest.
Black echo of doubt cannot fiord this forever nest of time.
We're born into foolish folly, aren't we?
Then die with a few verses of veneer.
Panning for the shine of living
vomiting the remanence of life
like owl pellets.
I’m a unique specimen,
made of mescaline and ketamine.
And the last living resident,
of an intergalactic settlement.
Burnt to the ground,
by time travelling middlemen.
I came with the cannon,
aiming only to try and bury them.
And when I aim for their president,
I will not miss my friend.
Now I’ve done the job,
I will disappear again.
Like the last living remanence,
of a long forgotten culture.
Disappeared too quickly,
picked at by the vultures.
Bones into dust,
Picked up by the wind.
And we never knew the story,
cause we’re never taught a thing.
Meet the psychedelic poet,
trying to live stoic.
He’s earmarked for death,
and he doesn’t even know it.
I’ve met alcoholic authors,
with bongs in their hands.
Staring out of the windows,
cause they’re awfully prang.
I remember nights doing pipes,
but now my mind is sober.
But eternally restless,
seeking some final closure.
The makeshift king,
searching for the evidence.
I am seeking refuge
And my mind needs the medicine.
You ran away from me
Neglecting the past, present and future
Like a bird migrating- you flew
I lost sight of you
Drifting away, red balloon
Lost in the abyss of the blue
My heart ripped in two at the time
I remanence and feel the pain,
That dull dagger drilling into my esophagus
I recall the questions
Wanting answers I wasn’t ready for
Why would you leave yourself-
Fallen identity- what is an identity?
My soul once mirrored yours like a puzzle piece
And now-
I don’t even remember –
Your features- your smile-
It’s all an empty VHR recording
Like someone wiped my brain clean-
What good is memory when it can be erased
Now I know I have become one person
A whole, who no longer looks for reflection
Who no longer tries to see myself in you-
Or anyone else for that matter
My dear twin flame,
I lost myself with you but now I’ve found her and I can’t see you anymore
Baby blue skies met me this early morning,
Still hanging onto the moon brightly above
Snow covered the branches of trees near and far
I stood on the solid, frozen ground, in quietness,
Looking at everything painted white around me
The remanence of night slowly drifted out of sight
The sky turned yellow, as the sun lifted its face
Shining golden, glorified color, everywhere to see
On this peaceful quiet land, with sparkles abound
--- A new day began ---
Heidi Sands
12/10/17
Author Dana Redricks
June 9, 2017
I know you been wondering
Why I remanence so much
The reason I remanence is
Because all I have is memories
Of yester years
The joys and tears
Is all that’s left with me
Holding onto the memories
Is like holding on to a piece
Of you
The joy that we shared
Cannot be compared,
But your, not here anymore
That is why I remanence so much
hoarder of resentments....
stacked up like books
one atop another
taking up space
within the attic
of the mind
hoarder of resentments....
stock pilled like some
old disregarded antique
stuffed deep inside of
a box of lies
hoarder of resentments....
buried underneath
mounds of misconceptions
hiding the light of truth
from gaining entire
hoarder of resentments....
positivity can not
grow within this walls
filled to the brim with the
remanence of past disappointments
causing the death of any reconciliation
to occur
hoarder of resentments....
Although the desires, the hopes, the needs and the hunger
the raw emotions of anger are the same
the magic of love in the air of a far away land,
In the remanence of pride
of the kings that rode these lands
on the footpaths bejewelled with stones
reflecting the glare of the sun
and as I breathe the cool morning breeze
through my lungs, my heart began to heal
It may not forget what is that belongs to the past.
now, as real as a ghost in the nightmares I had.
Just as spilled ink on the blank pages in a diary
dates too painful to note
unspoken wounds from the memories made their scars
Command
I am an apparition made of man
I am living in a foreign land
I will never know who I am
I seek peace in my master plan
I sleep and dream when I can
I am an imitation dummy in a window with a suit on as I just stand
I am sick of living this artificial sham
I will only find peace in death to escape this hostile remanence to expand
I feel raped of Identity from being a child to this day as everyone is enslaved by command
In the deepest blue they shiver - searching her in time
In a lust drawn sigh and quiver – words of intellect and rhyme
Her eyes close in submission – as he draws her further yet
Her soul beats with such sedition – as he helps her to forget
And in the decadence of moonlight - she succumbs to virgin's plight
And in the remanence of hindsight – she never meant to lose the fight
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