touch my hand
note these veins
blue and prominent
filled with years
the shared blood
of our history
note the tremble
as though love
was still new
“Vesuvius and Pompeii”
Painting by Robert Duncanson
From commons.wikimedia.org
Sabine outpost of empire
prosperous socium
subject to caesars
wealthy with wines
and exquisite fertility
art not the least
of its fruits
ripe in hedonist skins
uninhibited tradeport
of cultural pleasures
unchaste that ironically
buried and burned
within moments
of ritual sacrifice
blooming the decadent
fires that lit Vulcanalia
but what avails tribute
to pantheon egos
the mountain spoke
loudly exploding the air
cataclysmic with tropes
of an unhappy earth
cool flesh inflamed
into hot stone in
quotidian poses
beneath brimstone ash
in mere hours of oblivion
given terrible chronicle
wretched of witness
in Pliny’s epistles
to Tacitus
author of histories
neutral of judgments
first and foremost
remember
success is no sin
but is failure refused
and refused and refused
until eggs of fear crack
pouring forth with
their stillborn yolks
dead to the purpose
of stubborn persistence
who strikes up a
timely acquaintance
with luck and walks
patient laid steps upon
well-chosen lanes
up and back the chicanes
of a maze that deters
all less resolute hearts
from its prize
Oleander Casting a Shadow
Photo from learnnc.com
when did I die
was I ever alive
was it all
wisp of figment
if so who
imagined me
if I can think
through the pain
and the plague
of uncertainty
surely then
somewhere existed
some semblance
of me in my
essence or did it
if shadows
are proof then
I may have
the answer
but I can’t tell
shadows from
inside the dark
of this
dungeon of doubt
can you see it
my shadow
attached to
this ground
if you can
would you touch
it and tell me
at least if it’s
dead or alive
so that I may
take rest from
these fears
cast aside
existential anxiety
lie back down
into the night
knowing whether
to wait for
the sun or
confront my
infinity
speak not of beliefs
human words
are but fire
the flames giving
voice to chimera
true testament
stands upon deeds
all the evident essence
of what one believes
found in how one
behaves among
conscience or crowds
books may teach
the mechanics of
doctrine but man
woman child each
and all create creed
every life a complete
definition of faith
modernity given expression
artistic design reimagined
a philosophy of function
schooled architects painters
and sculptors in industry
rendered a new generation
of socialized landscapes
cosmopolitan cradles bore
creatures of brash western
civilization whose stark
unambiguous features grew
into a twentieth century
blunt iconography marking
the civilized west until
finally running its gray austere
course it gave rise to return
of postmodern aesthetics
“Geopoliticus Child Watching Birth of the New Man”
Painting by Salvador Dali
From salvadordalipaintings.com
sleep in gray folds
of your journey
the paths that drove
morning through
forests of blunt
aspirations through
afternoon landscapes
replete with green
tempting alternatives
slumber in wonder
of choices you made
at encroach of blue
evening on ground
that found footfalls
more certain more
confident even as
shadows cut deep
into twisted terrain
dream in mortal
embrace arms of
Morpheus sculpting
your starlit complete
metamorphosis
black as a mirror
reflecting arrival
at opium midnight
the end of you
shelled and metallic
an embryo poised
for new morning
“Event Horizon”
3D HD Wallpaper
From freehdw.com
racing beyond
past the edge
where the wail
falls to silence
through mouth
holes agape
circled cavities
bearing a blackness
so deep that
it swallows all
light every bit
every quantum
of matter and
mass all the while
moving forward
transduced by
velocities no tool
can measure
emerging then
somewhere unseen
in fierce spark
of an instant
reversed by
the warp and
the wave of an
alien gravity God’s
vital twin whose
sheer eminence
ramps what was real
up and into its promise
becoming new
entity mystical
powerful thrown
in impossible
conjugal union of
form and philosophy
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
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Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...