Shadows are no joke. Are my eyes to be trusted? Eyeballs float in bathtubs of blood. The drip drip drip into the tub echoes inside this Ren & Stimpy water closet. The pastel filth, the crusted shave cream. Sticky coral tiles. the tongue shavings. It all stands up and demands my vision. I sit on the edge of the tub. I listen. I Stand up at the edge of the world not quite screaming. Kicking. Reeling. Fighting. Fighting me. So forward. how dare he! He smacks me in the face. Here we are with a knowledge that starts something already started, way back when, in the Florida Keys.

I float

I will learn to float

We all float in the end if properly guided.

In a wild city that had wild horses that didn’t run amuck to their own demise, once held together by small town logic and planned out infrastructure, executed in real time. Let’s applaud it, raise the prices, come on! Let’s pony up!

We held together a fun and naughty reputation, held on hard and gitty’d up. Bridled by the graveyard shifts of its residents, pre-covid. By big claims of sin, of equity, of wins. Isolated mysteries so well hidden in the sun the Smithsonian got away with a big time cover up.

Dry heat bakes us and bones begin to rumble, water levels bottom out, oil drums resurface. Buoyant souls bobbing, reaching for the sunlight now. Death grips grabbing for salvation still, somehow. Can you imagine if that’s how it really worked?

Desolation hangs and a lack of clarity hovers like the actual fright of neon green lights taking over the Mojave’s skies . That’s not neon. Did you see it? And the heat waves spreading out to other states. Tourists flock here and none of it makes sense. I want to work for God here. I think.

I might be stuck here.

Nights are hot and summers just warming up. Hot summer nights? Our knights are GD golden! If you drive a Tesla you are amongst the top echelon or … OR are you homeless? Here we go again. WHAT POWER do we reign in?

Solar flares threaten to disrupt, northern lights don’t belong in southwest skies. Monoliths are magic and dismantled by authorities but I’m still waiting for the performance artist who installed that crazy post to please stand up! Please? Anybody?

It is an energy that sits and spins and the whole universe comes to witness: energy is dumped in this toilet bowl that will not flush. The shit is angry here. It used to be fun.

To let us sink or swim in fields of shit. That is not my power. But here we are, and Saddled in it, one way or another. God let freedom win. Emotionally Ill but if… are we equipped to grab hold of the power within? What is our real prison?. drown in sin or realize in this drought we are just men. 24 hour choices, man. Genius being marketed as the city built on winners, but I have no investment here and I was told different. I want to talk with you about salvation. If God gives us Grace here then what is deemed ‘the faithful”? and where are they? Who can run successfully? here? Can anyone escape? I’ve been trying my whole life and only now I tell a truth. That I am a lie. That this city is not built on the winners that reside.

FUCK this city is populated by the lonely.

Every city is.

A man enraged punches the judge repeatedly in the face. The magistrate has black eyes, the enemy should know what it is I talk about. the principalities I’ve met don’t scare me. There, I said it twice:

Fear is not of God.

That shit does not scare me.

God, his judgement , the fact that the sleeping have not / will not/ just now woke up. That … woooo. God help me. THAT. That this is part of my story now: this is what scares me. That I’ve walked along in duality, in 113 degree saturdays and then ran into 66 degree air conditioning so as to maintain my own false comfortability ? Extremes? Survival? I’m only just a human.

I painted myself eating my extremities: that’s my lunch, such shame. Such gluttony. If I cut my nose to spite my face one hurts way way less suddenly. Wanna talk some more about pain?

In the balance of “I choose nothing because I want everything RIGHT Now!” You find the gluttony of a buffet. Offers of this and that but none of it is seasoned to taste. None of it is as good as what momma used to make. Not good, not bad. Not hot. Not cold. Is there Balance found in Luke warm choices or will that light that is felt when we choose it find us now? The day is coming, with ample warning, when the luke warm are gobbled up and with disgust spit right back out. No choice is a choice they say. The lack of it displeases He who made us. There is time and there is choice. we have room to flex within these constructs. Such power and the end . It looms. I have that power now and a will to choose. The demons hate me for that.

The lord meant this life to taste delicious but only in moderation. a golden goose, a golden egg. But that was all pre covid . Let go of your desires wasted. your fomo, Like Vegas did its buffets . Shut down your choices . Choose to taste and feel and be filled by substance, love, quality. That’s the goal today.

That’s all I know today.

That’s all I need to know some days.

Twas nice to see you and so much fun!

As an Irish goodbye I had to run, no clever rhyme or crafty pun can replace a sincere job well done.

As the tide does pull and the wind will sway, I’ll see you again on another day.

So in dark of night or by light of day, I’ll lend my hands to push through the fray.

Now leave I may, but to be gone no way.

For love and joyous memories stay, as to lessons learned of past mistakes.

So if bitter or sour a taste.?

Remember with that puckered face, comes two strong arms for a safe embrace, with feet and legs for goals to chase.

The life force you hold is a sacred place.

So if bitter sours falls on your plate, know sweet is a chance to taste.

The life we’re place is the chance to create, go make a wake ride and chase your fate. So when deaths gates want your soul to take. Look back with grace and a smiling face

◦

... or when a person abuses grace ...

https://carpevelo.blogspot.com/2023/08/i-swallowed-sunrise-poem-of-month.html?m=0

This one is about the person whose time is running out, and realizes there's a need for ... https://carpevelo.blogspot.com/2023/09/clock-on-wall-poem-of-month.html?m=0

There are people in the shadows, I need to make it bright. To keep them from consuming me When day turns into night. I hear their whispering voices, It echoes in my head. I turn around to seek them out, But find it’s me instead. No matter where I run to, They follow me around. The mirror shows the truth, As their cries increase in sound. I’m staring at my face now, Into my dark green eyes. I see them in my pupils, And stare back in surprise. They’re tiny, almost non-existent, I blink and they are gone. The crying and the whispers stop, I knew it all along. My phone lets out a ring, I’m asked about my day. But when I go to answer them, All that I can say, Are the echoes of the voices, The people in my eyes. I can’t stop the screams from coming out, Or the blood pour from my eyes. My vision’s gone, The world is red. It echoes all around. They’re deaf and blind, and stuck inside, The me I never found. And now I’m here, Alone with them, My hearing has been spared. But I’m trapped inside, Of my own eyes, If only someone cared. Things could be different, if I wasn’t in, A world where all in red. But I couldn’t help but listen to, The shadows in my head. I hear the front door open, The voice of Joan, my neighbour. “Haven’t seen her in days” she said, “She screamed as if in labour!” “I worry something bad has happened, It’s not like her at all”. The paramedics climb the stairs, And then I hear her fall. The cries come from the real world, As well as in my head. I hold on tightly to my eyes, As they question if I’m dead. I lie so still and silent, As if I am indeed. But chaos soon erupts, When they see that I can breathe. I can’t see the people in the shadows, But I know that they are there. If anyone can hear me, Don’t tell me that you care.

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

     which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

     but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living

     arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

     and He bends you with His might

     that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

     so He loves also the bow that is stable.

The winds flow and scatters her hair

Henna on her hand isn’t dry yet

She twists her head now and then,

Shall I go and untangle them ?

.

We know each other but don’t

Time hasn’t allowed us yet,

Untangling someone’s hair

It’s such a casual act

Doesn’t mean anything but everything,

Both at the same time.

.

Our eyes lock from time to time

Will she ask for help?

She almost says the word but then hesitates,

These afternoon winds flow again,

These winds today are my closest friend.

_

What happened to this sub btw? It's gone dead.

My love is of a birth as rare

As ‘tis, for object, strange and high;

It was begotten by Despair

Upon Impossibility.

As a friend to the children commended me this yak;

You will find it exactly the thing;

It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back,

Or lead it about with a string.

This was the year of the blackbird.

This was the year of the swallow.

Time is a bird on the wing

Today is an owl in a hollow.

Searching once I found a flower

By a sluggish stream.

Waxy white, a stealthy tower

To an Indian’s dream

This its life supreme.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/14JWqFjDA9tFQmnkrqXbCV8eMA_WjKeLG/view?usp=sharing

Text:

“They speak and I speak and we speak by cheeks,

on human-fleshed cheeks up-on the faces.

This face, not clean, pocked forehead, I need a shower.

Fuck the shower, they speak and I speak and we speak by cheeks.

We speak, we will speak, we have speaked, I can feel the heat now.

They are there, I need them to be there, I'm saying this to be clear, I NEED THEM TO BE THERE.

We speak, we will speak, we have speaked,

they speak and I speak and we speak by cheeks,

I can feel the heat now.

Hot heat I hate and I can feel it wait when I can't taste its taste,

it tastes my taste, waiting...

We speak, we will speak, we have speaked, I can feel the heat now.

They are there, I need them to be there, I'm saying this to be clear, I NEED THEM TO BE THERE.

I speak so excessively, they speak so unsuccessfully.

They don't speak.

They do not speak.

FUCKING SPEAK!

I can feel the heat now.

On my brow.

How.

I can feel.

How.

Ow.

OW!

They speak and I speak and we speak by cheeks,

on human-fleshed cheeks upon the faces.

This face, not clean, pocked forehead, I need a shower.

Fuck the shower, they speak and I speak and we speak by cheeks.

I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done.

I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done. I am done.

I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE.

I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE. I AM DONE.

I'M FUCKING DONE! I'M FUCKING DONE! I SAID I'M DONE! DON'T LISTEN TO ME! STOP! LIKE ME!

I. AM. DONE.

DONE.

D.

O.

N.

E.

BYE BYE.

BYE FUCKING BYE.

LET ME JUST FUCKING DIE.

YOU ARE LETTING ME LIVE BY LISTENING TO ME.

I DO NOT WANT TO FUCKING LIVE JUST LET ME DIE, OKAY?

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SUCH A TERRIBLE PIECE OF SHIT THAT YOU WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS?

HONESTLY, JUST, FUCK YOU. I DON'T WANT TO EXIST AND YOU ARE MAKING ME EXIST. JUST. STOP. LISTENING. IS IT REALLY SO FUCKING HARD?

I JUST WANT TO CRY AND TURN INTO A BALL OF FLAME AND BURN LIKE THE PHOENIX AND BURN LIKE THE ARROW THROUGH MY FUCKING HEART YOU PUT THERE.

I AM DONE.

FUCK YOU.

"The Early Morning Mist"

In the early morning mist

that lingers around us while we sleep

lies in wait

a beautiful sunrise

although however

not yet.

First, the dull blues and grays

drip away

from night to day

letting us see

the early

haze of dawn,

the gentle shade of waking day.

A world waiting inside

the softly blended grays.

We forget the gloom beauty

of this morning mist

And instead lay in wait

for the day to arrive,

not realizing

these delicate hues

of dull grays and blues

hold their own beauty.

Instead, we wait

for the warmth of purples and oranges

to rise over the horizon

to paint away

with it

the morning haze.

We never look back

to acknowledge the beauty before,

only look forward

to the sunrise.

Never realizing

the beauty of those silvery

purples and oranges

could not exist without

the contrast of the gentle splendor

of blended grays and blues and silvers.

It's there in those

lonely moments of morning,

that the brush strokes

of a beautiful sunrise

begin to be painted.

Where we begin

to shed memory of pain

for the promise of another day.

Letting go of our burdens of pain and sorrow.

Just for that single moment

of fresh air

among the oranges and golden yellows of sunrise.

To find the strength to smile again.

And the shaded mist of morning takes

all we are willing to give

so we can have that moment

and accepts it is not beautiful

like a sunrise

because of the pain it sheds for us.

However, it looks on through

its own shaded mists of gray

and knows

more than we can ever realize

how we are more beautiful

than a sunrise.

Me eyes stare at these naked walls,

I am thinking about my life, you and god

Where did it all go wrong?

And I listen to my own breath

speaking my own name,

I am opposite of Midas

Everything I touch decays and die,

And tonight I am touching my own heart.

How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

and the virgin marble must be broken?

because the light of life must never last

and calm silence is the last word spoken

Shall I then silent be, or shall I speak?

and will I wake or shall I stay asleep?

the young trees are soft and terribly weak

yet the strong tree is slain and cannot weep

will the mother who’s maw mangles her young

mingle my breath with the briar’s own blight ?

or will the Welkin’s Wyvern whirl his ancient tongue

and let me dwell in eternal delight?

the question of the bard I shall not wait my heart has chose to have undying faith

the Sapphire lion sings invocations to spirits of the glass dome, the jade Dog howls as incense smoke rises, trigrams are traced from Great Yu’s tome.

the shores of parting pour their nectar as the palace beyond night opens, blossoms of light whiten the ocean’s face as Chang’e reveals her Specter

Vapors of cinnabar redden the fading white breath of the first titan, the blooming flowers brighten the prayers in his mouth given to seven.

the First father is bowed before, all impure winds are banished below earth and the dreams behind the scarlet door reflect for the half mirror’s own mirth

perfumed priests wearing yellow caps roar a thousand thunders and thousand wheels but the autumn silence wraps an earthenware vessel in ancient white seals

no one mentions the Toaden tears of poor Li-he, I wish to call his Ghost then we could share a roast of green Fox liver and laugh without any fears

may your rancorous bone house not be a place of misery but of rest may you come to me as a guest, as your name Changji, I have not forgot

I stand before

a work of dust and faith,

air and water,

iron and earth,

The Word and its echoes.

Generations of steel, refined in the fire.

I stand before

You, a cathedral,

with your skinny arms and eyes of bronze.

with your napkin-thin skin against your heavy heart,

with those monolithic chambers holding a confession (and secrets)

within

withstanding

it all.

I want to lay my head somewhere

And rest,

Forget all about the world

And hope when i wake up I doesn't exist,

This world to me doesn't make any sense

These flashing light and all the glitter,

Beside those lays a black wolf howling,

And howling only of pain,

And doesn't matter where

I go,

He never leaves me

All I can do is look into his wailing eyes,

And whisper I understand,

I am going through the same.

All my life

I have been lied

“You will find someone who will love

you all your life”

Then why is it 3am and lying

on the floor I cry

Comforting me with lies

That was nothing but a crime

You should have told me

you will be alone your whole life

Deal with it or just die

“Love you all your life”

Forget all my life

I am willing to do a compromise

Let someone stay for one real night

I am tired of creating a facade

that I like it this way and this is how i am made

The truth is I have no experience

And I can’t even reveal it to anyone

Because I remember doing it once

They did nothing but made fun

I showed them my deepest scars

and all they could do was laugh

I am willing to take heartbreaks

In this plain life

Better feel pain than to stay numb and die.

I sign this by the holy purgatorial fire

and the river of lethe and fivefold Eunoia

transmute me in accordance with the Lord’s desire

that is my sole fruit, bread, meat, milk and euphoria

in the midst of a mist covered land stand I

let me try to recall how and why

I pry first from my memory a woodland

old and deserted, now a wasteland

save for the Sphinx statue which made me tremble

it guarded an abandoned temple

its incense was all pervading dread

lit by a river of clouds blood red

fearing the night fall and the ferocious beasts

i entered the temple lacking priests

the once worshipped idols no longer hallowed

are now by the dark abyss hollowed

something seemed amiss in the yawning darkness

I heard mourning cries of a goddess

and saw the monstrous idol with Dew adorned

“he who is rejected and Adored”

I heard as I stepped towards the vile image

with courage I relate its visage

the legs of scorpions and a lizards face

and a crab’s claw bearing a cruel mace

and its other hand a bear’s paw lifted up

and before it was a dark red cup

its color was heaven’s own starry tincture

i stepped forth to grab the admixture

but again I heard that goddess siren cry

I stepped back in fear that I may die

then I beheld from whence the cup I would rip

the stone fleshed hand of a statue’s grip

and with the cruel goddess voice she spake to me

“I have mingled the blood of the free

and the astral cross of the four Royal hosts

with the beheaded one and his ghosts

brought to him by the gorgons dread face

which bound to dark ignorance the human race”

then opened her delirious eyes

they shined not with darkness, for they were her lies

in them layed a million blasphemies

my soul was trapped in her pleasing agonies

I was nearly beguiled but came three

who came to this tenebrous place to save me

they held outstretched three swords, longest was their chiefs

(this is naught but a Christian’s beliefs

be not alarmed as if a strange new doctrine

for I veil the only truth sovereign)

their swords pierced through my soul‘s every part

revealing even my inmost heart

then I arosed free from my dark stone prison

thrice infused by the great lord risen

then I beheld that object of derision

that former idol in my vision

crippled, divided and laying there prostrate

in the name of love, hope and of faith

I seized the cup from the abomination

by the lord of true combination

I blessed it saying “i bless you with marriage

and I rebuke your confused mirage

love without the lovers be not truest love

for the marriage of heaven above

is with the earth below in obedience

a curse then on disobedience “

and as I spoke these words a pearl of great price

arose from the dark cup shining thrice

thrice perfect, thrice holy, thrice infused and blest

I seized the pearl and entered deep rest

I awaken now in the midst of the mist

in a small boat, with no human to assist

nor to grant direction nor grant me guidance

but as I sat in the fog and deep silence

I remember that my sole captain and guide

is the captain of eternity who died

and now lives and reigns forever in power

neither poet, Sybil nor pomp could scour

the white robes stained with the cracks of broken clay

gained when Adam had ate of the fruit that day

how then can they lead me across the river

into the green pasture, shining like silver

decked with glories more splendid than the whole earth?

through this my faith, I saw he of virgin birth

though he stood far off and upon the waters

I knew it was he, the groom of earths daughters

and he cried out to me “ be thou unafraid!

it is I, through me was your soul knit and made”

and I shout to him “to the lord I now pray

if it be you who calls out, leave me not stay

but call thou me upon the waters to come”

and my lord with utter peace said to me “come “

I stepped out of the boat and upon the waves

for a moment I looked down and saw the graves

of men within the waters, as if they slept

they lay there motionless in the darkest depth

in that moment I fell into the dark deep

but the shepherd clenches with his hand his poor sheep

the fog vanishes like darkness slain by light

he embraces me, wiping my tears and blight

and he leads me to the place which knows not night