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Tag Archives: being

Domain: Unfiltered

Thoughts smoldered in her midst,

Tempered from a warmth—not just alive, but emanating,

My heart engulfed by the demon within,

 

No illusions can be found,

Lockets image mirrors round,

Into the pages of the furthest back,

Where every dream’s a cipher,

Unlocking the beauty that’s there to find,

Hidden deep beneath the depression

Coveting the door to love’s domain

 

And therein, poetry’s the universal language,

And mistletoe’s unneeded, for embrace

Comes without saying, alive and free,

Forever entered, in the perpetual state of being

 

There are no labels; there are no castes,

No deviations and no collapse

A world without fatigue; a world without time

Here, in this realm, where pain has long since dried

 

There’s no distractions, no wayward paths

Only uncountable equations of nurtured grace,

There’s no delusion; there’s no deception

Where happiness is synonymous with breathing,

Where enchanting tears flow free,

Joyful beads eclipse the cheeks,

Recycling the passion found in this place

 

There’s no entrapment, there’s no severance or decay

For only euphoria and blissful adoration are allowed to stay

 

Upon a landscape comprised of springtime melody,

Footprints are always guided home,

Where, through the fundamental premise,

Of an eternal promise declared between, within,

A cultivated reality built on trust and faith,

Within a realm so pure that only love, and never alone by dream, could ever truly attempt to make

Adages-4-5-13

Acting is like shrapnel.  You either have it or you don’t.

If you need to ask, it is likely talent has yet been found.

Yet, this all said, most do have strands of skill within.

It is only through massage and nurture

that one can develop them away from their innate stature.

 

 

So, acting is indeed like shrapnel.

Those harboring its blessings within,

need only to find the most effective manner

in bringing each fragment

to the truth residing upon the surface of the flesh

Haiku-1-25-13-2

Weeping willows waltz

In shadows beyond the pane

A breeze sways posture

 

Add two 7 syllable lines for TANKA

 

Dusk’s flickering light alters

The procession of the soul

Denim

A gross jump-step to the immediate right…
A lantern’s crossing pathway skewed…
Rigid daydream phantasy, alike in all its random quaking…
Boorishly bred insidiousness carves a niche upon your bedpost…
Salacious token collectors infatuate invisibly about your still-framed form…sensually stirring devious deceptions, with each rise of chest your form there makes…

Saginaw Valley, MI…a portrait is missing from a private collection.
Laboratory, PA…a doctor is dismissed for a presupposition undeclared
Chihuahua, MX…a high ranking cartel assassin secretly imports thousands of malnourished cats…and instinctively nurses them back to health…

Incorrigible dart
Sentient louse
Brandishing speed with elixir
Corroborating Orations with vexing whispers…if only to alleviate the ambivalence of the recent dead.

Harpies crèche their attachés slinging coat-check tabs into the arms of the impertinently betrayed
Firebug…antithesis of a wet noodle…coalescing under tin cans tarred in manure…only surviving because of a mispronounced truth…a finite detail ignored by his captors…incontinence toward smell…
Yet
Imagination
Is sometimes
Harsher than
Surprise

Emulsifying all ideals held to standards much too lofty to grasp free and clear…liquidation of the merchandise buried beneath the hearth…internal discourse hypothesizes how long it will be…yet, the answers are not as clearly cut as the cuttings provided along the back side of certain types of cereal box breakfast treats.

She sits at a table, in a café, along an always-renewable pattern of sole-embraced traction.
Her eyes shift, from straw to bottle, to fizzy drink, orange, purplish hue…eventually settling for occasional, yet repetitive glances in your direction…never quite figuring out the ramifications her gaze constructs…for this man is starving…he suffers dearly, from belly-aches beneath the denim…