Pandemonium inside my own head
Disorder and chaos leave me for dead
My brain feels like mush and my legs feel like lead
My heart is too heavy so I cry out instead
An inmate at the mercy of the devil’s old throne
I’m a prisoner trapped in a storm of my own
A cancer of the mind that I can feel in my bones
It’s the worst kind of feeling that I’ve ever known
My soul is exhausted but my mind will not rest
Reaching for air but stones fill up my chest
A hurricane of noise from the east to the west
Have I been forsaken or is this just a test?
Trying to ground myself like an unrooted tree
Swimming in a current, I’ve been swept out to sea
Fighting an endless war where the enemy is me
I pray we stop fighting..
Will the darkness set me free?
When, on that craggy moorland verge,
you make your stand, body braced
against the storms bullying bite;
when you permit the squall
to sweep your soul awake
attending only to the winds voice,
its howling funnel
forged in whirlpools of chaos,
then you will sense that thin thread
that holds you to this momentary life.
If then you suffer the stabbing rain
to corkscrew your mind,
allow the gust-mobbed gale
to expose each molecule of fear
you thought you had banished;
just being there within that mauling,
a hub in the dynamo
of an endlessly turning,
then your breath
will be one with the breathing sky.
If you remain there
all of you that is unrooted
must sink or rise, and if you dare
to grasp that howling by its throat
you will deliver yourself
to the deep dale or the soaring sky
newmade,
as transpicuous as daylight,
your spirit magnified
in the pristine eye of God.
Cancerous capitalism,
predative patriarchalism,
insist on runaway win v lose competitions
against EarthMother's resilient health
and ecofeminist resonant wealth
To fearlessly look
into mirrored medicine cabinets
noticing untherapeutic time's inevitable one way
past tense to present dense direction
******** of lines written
and rewritten
into this moment
of reweaving wonder
How resiliently limned health
reflects nutritional resonance
unlike discontinuous dominant deviance
cognitive dissonance
waving toward affectively unrooted absence
of anticipated confluence
Like tolerating personal bumps
lumps
wrinkles
mountains and valleys
of emergent panentheistically grand minds
in aging pantheistic
ancient ecologically interdependent organic bodies
Imagining climate pathological end
of healthy living green/blue Earth
predicted in commencement of cancerous capitalism
written in lines of greedy eyes
and needy ears
for anthropocentric
monoculturing opportunity,
predative win v lose rabidity.
Beauty, in my eye, yet I do not hold you.
Every curve, every contour, every everything.
A desire in me, exceeding a need for breath.
Undressing my soul with her very existence.
That I could clothe myself in her wake.
Immerse this broken in her healing.
Fate has me in other unions, futile, desolate.
Unrooted in fertile lands, and I am nothing.
Lifted by your beautiful, I am everything.
A failure in the placement of the tree;
Too small are roots which spread into the soil.
At first so perfect,later one can see
Its strength unable full life to uncoil.
A hidden shame for partly sensed deep lacks
A drawing back when growth was better sense
A fear of unknown dangers in soil black
Humiliation makes a hidden fence.
Perhaps this tree’s unsuited to our climes.
Seed moved far away from parents home.
Yet once it starts to grow there is no time
Unless it’s quickly moved from English loam
For lacking its best soil ,unrooted gifts
Are not developed,and in struggle twist.
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Dreaming of idyllic forms
Puzzle pieces mold as one
Imaginary lines unrooted
Petty pebbles sink in twilight
Then suddenly I’m awake
Laying here at daybreak lake.
Early enough to see the dew
Abreast my cold feet wading
I watch ripples promptly cease
As new ones dawn the trip
A cycle our lives can relate
Halcyonic touch of daybreak lake.
Morning glory’s violets bloom
Across the rivers foothill edging
Streams aroma guides my pining
To faded footprints of my youth
Where aspen branches quake
Sunny haze at daybreak lake.
Minds heavy winds thudding
Worldly pebbles wash ashore
Submerging pleasant dreams
That wake ideals from slumber
While my heart's eye aches
Reflecting late at daybreak lake.
he sold a lot from lies he told
the same he sold to men of old:
for him to sell
some lies we tell.
Goods like leaves sunburn unrooted
Abundance bought to wither sure
To lie about my age for fame
To lie along the rakes for shame
And when discovered I a store
with truth and life and so much more:
for Him to sell
some truths we tell.
Goods like leaves sunned and deep-rooted
A few seeds sown to blossom sure
Once a buyer at The Liar
Now a buyer at The Truth-er
©Angel Simon 2013
Let your spirit soar now.
Let it move as tumbleweed
unrooted and free to roam.
Let your spirit fly now
with the freedom of a lark
uncaged and ethereal.
Gliding on the breeze,
or as a rustle in the trees.
Rolling on a riptide,
or wafting on warm winds
in eastern lands as they
move the earthly sands of time.
Your passing has released you
to be what you would be;
a spirit truly free; unfettered
by bureaucracy and materialism.
Laughing as we worldly souls
trudge unceasingly in the quicksand
of mediocrity, eyes down, vision
tunneled as we struggle
towards the light, weighed down
by our mortal baggage.
Laughing as in death's waiting room
we are forced to check it in
and we leave as we came; empty handed.
We talked, we knew the secret;
that the spirit holds the riches
not the things that we possess.
'Tis the soul that prospers
as it flies, expanding into eternity.
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