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| | Fraught with MysteryPage 86 of 93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93) | Fraught with Mystery
Fraught with mystery, I
Retreat into the sanctum
Of the soul, only for the
Mystery to intensify.
Each vibration brings
Into focus her delicate
Features, swarming
Through the eye of the
Psyche. My spirit is
Heavy to understand:
How is it that two
Become one?—even
From a distance!
I feel fettered to a dream,
Shadowed by illusions,
Where only a riddle can
Save me.
But who possesses such
A riddle? And is it
Locked away in a cave.
I am not certain. I only
Pray that such a riddle
Exists, for I am in dire
Need of a sacred key,
Which cleanses the
Debris.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/7/2012 2:33:46 PM | The Arête
I disappointed the arête,
Longing for forbidden
Dreams, delving into
The heart of desire.
But must I repent for
Dreams—and who
Determines the nature
Of such prayers?—for
I pine for a forbidden
Love, wrestling with
The arête, afflicted wit
The heart of Solomon.
Indeed, a harpoon has
Pierced my spirit, but I
Realize the nature of
Dreams—albeit
Forbidden, a dream is
Merely a mist impressing
Upon the psyche unless
Acted upon; and I acted
Upon a dream, hereby
Disappointing the arête.
How do I make right?—
I must forsake the dream.
But the dream has taken
On a life of its own,
Where I realize the depth
Of reality, however, the
Dream is still vibrant!
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/8/2012 5:32:21 PM | Paint the fool in me
Grey, as an effusion
Of mystic wisdom
Surges throughout my
Fane. It’s a two-edge
Sword, where I walk
Either side of the fence
Careful of the flames,
For they are raging for
Flesh. Breathe upon
Our souls, Father.
Awaken us to the
Vibrations of Eternity—
Cause us to become
Present with ourselves.
Indeed, make the mirror
Speak, my Lord—may
It speak the language
Of spirituality. May
The circuits of heaven
Enlighten us, teaching
Us to read life through
The filter of our
Anagogic lens, for our
Third eyes are blighted—
Where all has become
Carnal. But what of the
Smiles, hidden within
The soul? They speak
Of the manifestation of
Spirit—our nature’s
Home.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/8/2012 6:08:24 PM | As tears attempt to fall,
I wonder of her whereabouts—
I wonder of her state of mind.
And how often will I trespass
Upon the grounds of mystic
Anguish, for I remember the
Abrasions—they were replicas
Of my own.
Naive | |
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| Beyond Limits
Posted: 3/9/2012 2:10:07 PM | Beyond Limits
Within the rotunda of the
Soul—will you dine with
Me?—where we partake
Of the spirit.
If I uttered the word love,
Would this divide a
Kingdom?—for I am
Pensive, draining softly.
Let us peruse the Seven
Wonders of the world,
Vowing to one another
Eternity ere the Temple
Of Artemis.
Who better to witness our
Vows, while the flame of
The spirit is ever
Intensifying?
My luminous relic, shine
Ere the world, hide not
Your light, for you were
Born to be seen.
A thunderstorm of
Vibrations have flooded
Throughout my entire
Being. I believe this is
The same for you.
But to uproot and change
Venues, this was the fool
In me, lost in tunnels of
Romance, enchanted
Beyond limits.
Naive | |
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| Beyond Limits
Posted: 3/9/2012 9:06:34 PM | (Written while drunk)
Adrift
I search out the wisdom
Of the dinosaurs, and the
In thumping drums of
Tribes afar, while drinking
The poison of a goddess.
To the cellar, my friends,
Let us celebrate the poet’s
Stream, singing within,
Asearch for metaphors,
And the genius within.
I await the chariot of
Flames, paused in the
Depth of the forest,
Preparing my speech for
The gods.
They shall be totally
Amazed, for I aim to
Confront the ideal—why
Is it that I must adjust to
Sin?
Moreover, remove the
Badge of honor, for babes
Are dying, while vultures
Wait nigh, eager to devour
Their muscle and flesh.
Lastly, I opt to return, that
I may aid the awakening.
Shall I be granted my
Request, or must I beg
Before the altar.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/12/2012 2:53:16 PM | Humans are Divine
In search of comfort,
We fall into the
Spirit within, as love
Resonates within the
Choir of the heart.
This is the feeling of
Divinity—both carnal
And divine. Once
Enthralled, who
Attempts to escape!
One becomes curious,
Wishing to master the
Operations of the spirit—
Peering into psychic
Secrets.
At moments in time, we
Find ourselves drenched
In vibrations, where the
Inward-utterance of a
Name, intensifies such
Vibrations.
How is it that the divine
Is also human in nature!
The two have become
One, within evolved
Vehicles.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/12/2012 4:47:51 PM | Expression
I was downhearted when
My senses returned, afraid
Of the image I had created.
My soul was overlaid in
Splinters, searching for a
Paradise. In hindsight,
Everything is bittersweet,
Else, I drift aside lies.
I have become intimate
With the mirror—peering
Into my soul-print, listening
For the stars above.
How do I forgo the trumpet
Blast of vibrations?—despite
The truth, for evermore the
Vibrations are intensifying.
If only we could pause the
World, and fly away, that we
May see, and feel, up-close
The hand of divinity.
But I am assuredly a
Dreamer, haunted by thorns
Of fantasy, spellbound,
Wrestling with my inner self.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/14/2012 3:15:45 PM | To Speak of Freedom
The light of a candle is
Flickering in our souls.
We have hope, for we
Have seen a gleam of
Heaven, with our brows
Forward in the Word.
Our spirits are leaping.
The tongues of Ghost
Are present. We want
The stars, else our souls
Sigh heavily. Our song-
birds sing of freedom,
But our reality speaks of
Oppression. And guess
What flew in—the
Vultures, waiting for a
Body to keel over and
Perish, from the sadness.
But we are ever gnawing
Upon hope, while the
Children too carry the
Burden of adults. Mid-
night cries, attest to the
Madness. The war is
Now psychical, making
The spirit drowsy, as we
Run around in circles.
We pray that our tongues
Will break free, for many
Are fetter to fear. And
Yes, we dare speak of
Freedom: the freedoms
Of the cultivated, for we
Are also cultivated. Look
Closely at the image in
The mirror. Hear such an
Image speak of our
Ancestors—for we are one.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/14/2012 3:16:20 PM | To Speak of Freedom
The light of a candle is
Flickering in our souls.
We have hope, for we
Have seen a gleam of
Heaven, with our brows
Forward in the Word.
Our spirits are leaping.
The tongues of Ghost
Are present. We want
The stars, else our souls
Sigh heavily. Our song-
birds sing of freedom,
But our reality speaks of
Oppression. And guess
What flew in—the
Vultures, waiting for a
Body to keel over and
Perish, from the sadness.
But we are ever gnawing
Upon hope, while the
Children too carry the
Burden of adults. Mid-
night cries, attest to the
Madness. The war is
Now psychical, making
The spirit drowsy, as we
Run around in circles.
We pray that our tongues
Will break free, for many
Are fetter to fear. And
Yes, we dare speak of
Freedom: the freedoms
Of the cultivated, for we
Are also cultivated. Look
Closely at the image in
The mirror. Hear such an
Image speak of our
Ancestors—for we are one.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/16/2012 1:16:19 PM | Surrounded by birthstones
And rubescent roses, I walk
The hidden path, picking
Fruit throughout the garden
Of life. | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/16/2012 2:05:52 PM | Impression
Clawing through briers
And thorns, an overflow
Of sadness has been upon
Me, where I am forced to
Trek through thickets of
The psyche.
Wrestling with the yoke
Of knowledge, I have
Girded myself in spiritual
Sackcloth, realizing that
Keen senses flee with the
Winds.
Wherefore, one is then
Alone, dwelling in the
Valley of visions, soaked
In the intensity of majestic
Streams, seeking out
Unsearchable secrets.
Not fastened through
With pegs of sorrow, but
Pierced Through the soul,
One floats through the
Wilderness of hopeful
Dreams.
Am I not webbed!
—where I have stumbled
Into a trench, an ancestral
Trench, where to revive,
I must dig deeper into
Said trench.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/16/2012 2:51:37 PM | Impression II
Tossed into the squall, I
Sought refuge in the store-
house of spirits, only to
Find myself confused,
Sitting upon the portico
Of the temple.
Within the psyche, dwells
A banshee, an ancient
Banshee, haunting my
Very being—where is the
Bridegroom!—that I may
Present the bride.
I owe this mystery to the
Ghost of eternity—one
That has besieged my
Senses, etching at my
Spirit, awakening me to
New heights.
Cast me not to the desert
Region, but rather, baptize
Me in the spirit of the
Jordan River—that I may
Save souls, passing them
The cloak of divinity.
Along the roadside, I fell
To the ground, teary eyed,
Pleading for clarity—that
I may rescue myself from
Moments of depression—
I was acting selfishly.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/16/2012 6:21:45 PM | tears, they come,
not by will, but upon death
of selfish refusal
to give in to the
breath
in
and then out
and again,
for good measure
the tempest
carries within
and without
thought to treasure
the gift
is the present
the box in which we sit
with blood stained hands, an open
mind, and "make the most of it"
i sometimes wonder what to make of this "present" that you give..
when i am beaten, i become willing.....dear god, show me how to live. | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/17/2012 11:16:01 AM | "tears, they come,
not by will, but upon death
of selfish refusal
to give in to the
breath"
The entire prose-poem is fraught with pain, but the above lines brought it home for me.
This is a great capture. I thank you for placing it here. | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/17/2012 3:15:17 PM | Upon a Cloudy Eve
Who might I call
To awaken the
Clairvoyant inside?—
That I may decode
An epiphany.
A harbinger is in the
Distance. Thus, I’m
Running into the
Forest. However, the
Harbinger is relentless.
According to the
Deacon, I’m in need
Of intercession—a
Christ like spirit to
Fall upon me.
Maybe Christ is a
Spiritual panacea,
Aiding contrite souls.
But one must believe.
But how long is the
Waite!
Within the sanctum
Of the psyche, I
Pause, absorbing the
Waves of infinity—
Envisioning a solemn
Locket.
What must I give to
Escape the cobwebs?
What must I give?
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/17/2012 5:49:05 PM | Post Modernity
A keepsake to all, but
A lover of only one.
Shall religious tears
Cleanse the soul! Or
A flogging of the spirit
Rectify the fallen!
What shall relieve us?
—for we walk a tightrope,
Where our only security
Is a hollow net.
Swept into a trance, one
Wails, ‘my interpretation
Is my reality.’
Impassion such a position,
As to heal the nation.
Then let us read into the
Stars.
We must journey the great
Voyage through dreamlike
Dimensions, confessing the
Best of ourselves.
This is our saga. And with
An insatiable appetite for
Love, we shall persuade
Love, by the way of love.
My esoteric friend, read
Into the sublime, vibe with
Every vibration, and by way
Of the spirit, enflame my
Soul.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/19/2012 2:30:38 PM | In the Moment
Pass me a parachute, then
Read the brochure of my
Losses. Lastly, tell me
My debt is paid. If not,
Cast me to the rainstorm,
Where thunderbolts will
Tear into my flesh, that I
May resurrect upon iron
Tablets.
It’s a bittersweet reality,
Either I perish, or I perish
While living. This is
More than a fable. I was
Abandoned to a black-
damp, where stargazing is
A foreign gesture, for I’m
Entangled in darkness.
Fasten me to prayer.
Leave me not at the mercy
Of quicksand, where I
Reminisce upon
Fluorescent moments,
Lost in a daze, speaking of
The good old days. But
Rather create a miracle,
While burning seven
Candlesticks, reading into
Intricacies outlined within
The canon of visions.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/19/2012 3:57:14 PM | and this is why all the best writers were schizophrenic... preach on, brother
I'll give you a hand up, if you'll only come to me :) | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/19/2012 8:22:43 PM | | Sabetha, I thank you for your feedback and your comment...and who knows what the future beholds. | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/19/2012 10:50:22 PM | yeah... who knows
where will the wind blow
and will I still be waiting
to pick your a$$ up off the ground
when you decide to come "down"
to my level | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/20/2012 11:54:33 AM | Who knows?
And what of distance?
As for the wind, it's as
Fickle as human admiration.
And who shall wait through-
out the seasons. And would
You kick me while I'm down?
For to be down, means I am
Looking up--and we see that
There is only one level, where
We are all suffering in our own
Way. | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/21/2012 3:47:00 PM | Inward Investigation
Wildflowers are like shrines
In the depth of my psyche,
Where a seaquake is erupting
As I type. I’m falling into
The swamp of emotions,
Grasping at a dream catcher
To tame my dreams. Take
This voyage with me, for we
Must discover the architect
Of such dimensions. We
Must unlock the dreamscape,
And tap into the mystic
Orchestra of eternity. My
Countenance is careworn,
For spirits are plaguing me
Sorely, where luminous
Thoughts have left me
Drunk with mystery, gnaw-
ing upon seaweed. Maybe
I lack meekness, for I have
Yet to inherit the kingdom.
I am thus counting seashells,
Running through this
Daymare, attempting to tap
Into the tempo of Christ. If
We fail, walking dreams
Shall continue to haunt me,
Terrifying the soul. Thus,
We must delve deeper into
The abyss of dreams,
Penetrating the core.
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/22/2012 11:41:19 AM | The Mystery
My soul has returned
It was the soul of another
Now suddenly I feel joy
There is too this fervid
Feeling of ecstasy, a mystic
Link, dragging my heart
Back into the garden, where
Prayer is inevitable
Beloved of my burning soul
In the spirit, I give the quilt
Of my affections, hoping
To reach deep into the heart
Of my genteel love
Our spiritual love is
Unyielding, albeit, balanced
Between two extremes, where
The steepness of such love
Provokes inquiry
Plough my spirit, and reap the
Harvest of mysticism
Sit at the piano of my being
And stir my spirit into a frenzy
Give light to my shadow, my
Love, refresh my jaded
Perspective, that I may be more
Receptive to the mystery
Naive | |
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| Fraught with Mystery
Posted: 3/22/2012 4:23:24 PM | Abstract Impression
I often drink from the
Faucet of dreams, falling
Into visions, reflected
In the mirror
A kettle is whistling, I
Am thus walking down
The aisle towards the
Kitchen, but the kitchen
Has disappeared
I am in the midst of a
Vortex, reading into the
Calligraphy of Spirit
Peering into vacant
Images, awakening
Dreams
Canticles of Ecstasy echo
In the distance, I’m in
Search of a mystic sound
Falling into mirrors, in
The stillness, I feel God
There’s a wraith in my
Room, I can feel its
Presence, but I can’t get
It to speak, it merely
Vibrates, lingering over
The cave of my heart
While absorbing
Undulations, my soul
Quaked, my heart skipped
A beat and my spirit
Sang of hidden mysteries
Naive | |
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93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93)
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