the mirror of subconsciousness
holds the drifting sediment
of thoughts that never rise to waking light
it gathers the soft distortions
of memories bending themselves into new shapes
it keeps the shadow-bright symbols
of fears that speak in riddles we almost understand
it tilts toward the mind
revealing the hidden currents
that carry us even when we think we’re still
his life had been exquisite
not a grain of worry in plain sight
when the sinkhole appeared
life was a beach and then he drowned
fully submerged he fell
into the void of eternal time
subsidence subsisted into
a labyrinth of subconsciousness
eventually clarity evolved
nightmares became daydreams
eclipses turned into dazzling light
as he brushed off devilish blizzards
subterranean fears polished his blight
galvanised promises of the unknown
into certainty that crises
hold the wisdom of change
I hang on the small
umbrella, but I fail;
a whirlwind snatches it away,
it's more violent than a hungry eagle
swooping down to catch its prey...
all is in shambles, it scares the beagle
that finds shelter in a hallway
of a decayed building nearby:
he is afraid and shakes terribly!
Melancholy was felt when misty rain
made the maples cry as wailing mothers
do for the loss of their infant child;
no eyes looked drearier, their faces
were marked by a pain hard to explain...
they were finally consoled by God
who ordered rainy clouds to unwind,
giving them the comfort they needed.
Moms take care of their kids, doing all they can
and they sacrifice much, they don't buy a dress
to fill their needs; such angels deserve admiration,
walk with them: they've walked with you always!
The melancholy of this misty rain
can never erase anything too precious to us;
all remains intact in our subconsciousness:
sorrows and joys they reawaken! we reawaken
Everything said, everything thought and done
is stored in the subconsciousness of a memorable tune;
a whole life was spent in search of gratification,
of that sweetheart to convert this restless dreamer
to love, to show his amorous and changeless affection
in ways that eloquently expressed the exquisite art of lover!
Does love surpass all miracles doubtingly conceived
in the credulous mind, expecting thrills and kisses
in form of heavenly bliss, or a fulfillment of greed?
The wisher of resonant allusions was entirely convinced
to succeed with his cunning by offering petty gifts
to entrap the feeblest heart used to sweet whispers!
Who loves the drama of a tragic end in any somber narrative?
Of course, the joker with a hilarious and derisive laughter!
Does he care that what he says is no offense to provoke anger
in the jeering crowd that mocks him for being insensitive?
My honor was fairly, amply given and adamantly received,
I have left no murmuring lips in suspense; dear Heaven: my honesty
wasn't derided but perceived well and sealed in their endeared memory!
Precious inamorata, love surpasses all miracles as mine did!
As I
slumber,
a dream encumber,
wakefulness denied
in fitfulness.
What be changed
when I awake
from subconsciousness?
'tis the dreams
forgotten
that matters
to the deaf, blind
unfeeling mind
within,
matters to the within
of things
encompassed in:
As I, Dream
I am.
*Image of Cave, Stars, Sky, Tunnel by Pixabay.
Of Infinity
Source and aim is ... vast consequence,
Wherefore controls ... take prominence,
Greek's Alpha meant ... primal ascends,
Omega states ... constants transcends,
Cause steadfast edge ... oppositeness,
Expansiveness ... span conscienceless,
Space an abstract ... not concreteness,
Wander spirits ... lodged comprehends,
Source and aim is,
Between the two ... points wantonness,
License demands ... subconsciousness,
Omnipresent ... joined broad bookends,
Christ's the answer ... prize providence,
Infinity ... stretched mixed strengthens,
Source and aim is,
2021 November 07
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 8
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2021 December 05
*HMS & RZ
Cobwebs of the impossible
It was a clear day…too lucid, perhaps.
Mother sat in the kitchen; the sunlight made her white hair into a halo.
I asked how old she was?
Ninety-two, she said I knew this was not true she didn´t live that long.
By the slow river, I saw furniture drifting along,
brother said people living downstream went upstream to buy furniture
to save on transport costs they dumped the furniture in the river
and picked up when they came floating by.
Sometimes they lost a table or a commode, a risk we all have to take.
Walking along a soft road in the forest, but something was wrong
I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian painter,
Where trees emitted light of wonder, and my mother was 101 years old
I had a knife, cut the painting in half and walked out.
Sometimes the line between reality and subconsciousness merges
perhaps yesterday is today.
Lost, forgotten, downtrodden,
My horizon I sought to broaden.
Myself I seemed to have lost.
Inner demon Whispers fill every thought.
Subconsciousness swayed, and dismayed.
I always give myself the lowest grade,
afraid of hidden potential.
I just think I'm mental.
Playing dumb to lower expectations,
only leaves me with frustrations.
Change is all I crave,
but all I can see is my grave.
When your luck seems at an end
Maybe it is!
When everything you do seems all in vain
Maybe it is !
Perhaps it's time to take a look at yourself instead of others
Just in case !
Look at your family and try to feel what they feel
Just in case !
Look deep into your soul as it pulls at your subconsciousness
Just in case!
So think how proud you'd be when your children act just like you?
If you still have them !
Five years have passed since last I saw that smile,
When childhood left the beauteous ground of life,
A mellow change walked on the body's aisle,
A boulevard with blossomed cherries rife.
With growing eld first-ever joys are gone,
No more I see you often as before,
Yet somehow I have learnt to carry on,
If faint hope fails, nonchalance can restore.
No shades even peeped on my woeful cheek,
I am ensconced in claustrophobic rooms,
Here memories flashing by appear so bleak,
That in subconsciousness frail pleasure dooms.
Now patiently I'll wait for your rebirth,
From relics old I glean both grief and mirth.
28th Feb, 2021
(Digging my own grave series)
1. See the "Sights" of progress internally and externally in retrospect of character and actions.
2. Hear the "Sounds" of reasoning within silent speech and expression.
3. Smell the "Odor" of deceit no matter how faintly discreet.
4. Taste the "Sweetness" of Success, toast the journey don’t settle for less, yet of my judgment fairly assess.
5. Touch the "Hearts" of many within the subconsciousness, the place where the true heart resides.
6. Balance the "Dual" nature of all existence, (As above So below), (As Within, So Without).
7. Respect the "Momentum" of the physical within this time continuum in the relationship to progress: solid/liquid x energy = gas (ether).
8. Acknowledge the "Heat" of passion and the "Chill" of morbidity, as fire and ice combined is spirituality entwined.
9. Perceive the "Pain" and "Suffering" of the mind-self, and the body-self as it is reflective in the eyes, and results devised.
**MEE**
Daydream Matinee
David J Walker
What were these visions planted
Within my head
In my bed
So young a sleep
But not so deep as unconscious exclusion
Was it only the illusion of a 7-year-olds
Imagination
The silent hands of messengers drawing
Motion pictographs on the walls of my
Subconsciousness
I see them clearly and completely
As if a nights sleep at 7 still showing
The Daydream Matinee
Naming me on the Marque
And only me as the audience
Messages left for later interpretation
White Room
In this space, transcends reality of all thought
Where your subconsciousness lay fraught
Somewhere within the dimensions of your mind
Where your inner minds eye leaves you blind
In this space, there is no door to be found
Seemingly a profound emptiness abound
No windows to allow light to shine through
To shimmer that brilliant luminosity on you
In this space, no walls to separate a place
Nothing to reach out to touch or embrace
No roof, no floor, no corners of any kind
Only this white emptiness of some kind
In this space, which is yours and yours alone
Where all of you reside, in this solemn unknown
With your eyes closed to the world out of view
Is this white room filled with nothing but you
Silent voices on the outside of my head
inner cries of speechless thoughts tread
speaking not of my neat puzzle mere
it does no harm to maintain that in here
no longer pronouncing idiosyncrasies
they're just a hype never felt by guarantees
I'll heed my disarm in rhythmic chant
quietly through the waves of times pant
waking up gets me disoriented with doubt
I need not nap and slumber when it's a dark drought
receiving compliments I'll agree with gratitude
no matter what torrid sounds develop in brood
harnessing private reasoning into rooted consent
even if subconsciousness is where it stems augment
breaking the boundaries of what I expect of myself
and living a life of rational progress for once as oneself
Just below my imagination
Slightly above my consciousness
I dream and tangent followed by unsure tease
Cleft between the sadness
Parallel virtue subconsciousness
They dreams Enchanted is mine
Beyond the purple vision
Subdued Passions
Subjected relations
Likely below my suspicions
My reality uncertainty leading me into separation
Bound between the happiness
Subjected tonight Mariners Twilight
Floating in blue oceans
Drifting with purple vision
12/4/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr 2019
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