The autopsy of a broken dream is started with the collection of the scattered pieces. The scene of the final tragedy must be reconstructed and seen through the eyes of the afflicted. The genesis of malady must be traced back and seen clearly; see the hope of the heart and its failed audacity. Glare upon pain in its rawest form, and with astuteness write down your observation. The thoughts of the oppressed must be dissected with precision. To properly conduct the procedure, the dream must be placed in a sterile environment completely void of contaminants. Notice the scarring of the organs denoting internal turmoil. They must be weighed as studious attention is paid. Record the various weights, and make general observations of its final state. It was beautiful in its formation but short in its realization. If you have to, step away briefly and ponder the beauty of what could have been, and then start again. The dream did not have any friends, so at the ceremony you will be the only person to attend. Make sure it is treated with dignity as it appears to sleep peacefully. Remember your duty and maintain professional reputability. At your own discretion, try to visualize what it couldn’t see, and in your memory remember what it wanted to be.
Tag: poem
-
Incessant sorrow overtakes
With quiet tears the tormented contemplates
What on the other side awaits -
Empty shells stumble around in darkness
Searching for the substance of their former selves.
The hollowness of their souls ring out in endless echoes.
Like fallen leaves in autumn they go whither the wind blows.
As time passes they become walking carcasses
Who see and speak, and listlessly weep.
Under the openness of the ether, the feral children curiously peep.Lethargically they walk
and recite their mantra:We search for the light of resurrection in all directions
Hoping for our day of release and the stillness of peace.
We dwell in darkness and are tormented with emptiness.
The residue of substance is not enough to sustain us;
The hunger of our craving is not of the stomach, but of the soul.
Once young and beautiful faces are now withered and old.
With high hopes and sincere hearts we march, yet we fall apart.
The fulfillment of their purpose they constantly dream;
To be filled with healing waters of a peaceful stream.
Still, they roam;
Weather beaten ships on eternal seas without a home.
I will record their misery and write a poem
In hopes they find that sustaining substance that fills the soul.
In the millions they gather with stories untold;
Inside they seek warmth, for on the outside it’s cold. -
In purgatory we are suspended.
Anguished screams are the byproduct
When the spirit is wilted.
Epitaphs are written and rewritten
With each changing season.
The anxious and depressed are listless;
There is no room for anything else.
Constant torment of the soul causes scarring.
She is beautiful on the outside,
But on in the inside she’s dying.
When the dead are gone they leave behind the living,
But the living are not living.
In the darkness cries are heard,
And the stark truth of finality is contemplated.
Day after day agony is compounded,
And there is no room to breathe;
We flood ourselves in the tears of heavy weeping,
But there is no reprieve.
With laborious breaths we make an existence;
The delicate shell of us craving a life of substance.
Once filled with life, we drag the carcass
Of yesteryear behind us, hoping for a resurrection,
Or some type of rejuvenation to bring life back into our eyes.
The preacher preaches a fiery sermon
And tells us to look to the skies,
But we have prayed and prayed again, and we are tired.
The world turns its face from the frightful imagery of our reality;
We are mannequins they dress up and pretend not to see;
Still, we are flowers in winter
Waiting for spring to bloom in all our glory.
In giant books of gold bound with the blood of our pain,
The gods, they record our lives, and write our story. -
The residue of you lingers.
I am infused with passionate thoughts;
I must purge myself, but sensuality taunts.
I taste of you, and your flavor is euphoric.
To let go I must convince my heart.
The strong potency of memories
Must be diluted with current reality
Lest there be an overload in sensory.
The recipe:
1 part memory to 7 parts reality.It must be savored and consumed slowly,
For the sweetness can mask its cogency;
Still I am inebriated from overconsumption,
As I secretly indulge with endless craving,
Like some starving predacious being.
Unknowingly I am in your rapture;
Sensuous and loving thoughts haunt me sweetly.
On a clear night I dreamt of the story of Adonis and Aphrodite.
The fire left center of my chest refuses to be quenched;
From past memories I piece together my own collage of what’s left.
On amatory nights with dim lights against my neck I feel your breath. -
The dust of my soul are the remnants of pain and the stories untold. In the wind I am carried effortlessly like flower petals in spring. I ride on ten thousand golden chariots and make my ascension; the moon and the planets are my neighbors. In my song there is a sweet fragrance akin to vast fields of white gardenias. My piercing cries are like that of an eagle; I soar above the clouds and view my life’s movie from the heavens. That boy, oh that young boy with a caramel glow, eyes wide and bright who befriended the crow. He suffered, yes he suffered indeed, and the world didn’t know. At the grave site when they lowered her, tears fell from my young face, but when I got older I found there was no more embrace. Oh wondrous mother, look upon your son and see the agony of his days, for the men mercilessly kill and the women’s hearts are cold and no longer filled with grace. I have had many lovers in whom I sought shelter, but my own naivety betrayed me, yet the desires of my heart still slay me.
My redemption has been written in the dark ink of the dried blood of my ancestors turmoil. In tears they were shackled and forcefully made to lie in their own filth; packed side by side in agony they died and were brought over on ships. Enslaved and oppressed they were mercilessly beaten with whips. The blood that ran down their bodies now runs through me; a child of pain, I arrived through the sweat and screams of my mother’s agony; her long hair and hazel eyes a wonder of beauty. I stare into the mirror, and still the eyes of that child that hoped for more stare back at me. He doesn’t say anything, but he knows what I’m thinking. His expressions of sadness and lament move me to want to comfort him, but I cannot, for I am him. Every now and then he sees me and smiles. He dwells among the stars and is a god in my mind.
-
It was after the silence that I cried.
In a sea of raging thoughts
The mind does what it wants,
But all I wanted was you.
Silence torments unknowingly
And then comes the memory of your laughter.
The love made at night and the morning after;
But who could fathom I would be mourning after?
The storms in my heart shake my core;
I hold on with all my might,
But then I shatter and I am no more.
The man I used to be is left behind me;
I look over to the place you sat beside me,
And you are not there.
Your scent lingers but you are not here.
Is such a fate set before me
That I am destined for loneliness and ruin?
Does my heart not solemnly cry out to the heavens?
Oh what grace would befall me
If an angel walked through my door and kissed me!
But maybe I’m not worthy.
Of the love you gave me, I think about it constantly;
On a clear night at midnight I dance in the moonlight.
You are a dream that was realized but lost;
There is no comfort in anyone else’s arms.
I reach for you in dreams and see your reflection in streams,
But ripples in the water take you away from me.
I shall gird up my loins and scatter my tears on the seas;
Oh that I would see you again in the glory of your beauty!
That I would touch your delicate face tenderly;
And kiss you, and you not turn your face away from me. -
How can I ever repay you? Your spirit is a deep well of refreshing water. I draw from you. I drink of your essence, and I am resurrected and replenished. My heart belongs to you. I am dedicated to you. You have become a part of me through and through. But my heart, Are beautiful words and writings alone all you can render? Did she not bring you back to life in the middle of the night? Did she not save you from certain desolation in the tormented bowels of isolation? What then do I render? I give my life, all my heart, and all that is within my spirit. The tears of Aphrodite that fell on Adonis’ body are in the same vein of my feelings for you. The gods see your beauty and are envious. Zeus turns his face in angered lust. Selene catches a smiling glimpse of Perseus. Poseidon is stirred and causes the valleys to flood. Your hair is akin to golden waterfalls. The shape of your eyes like almonds. Oh heaven, I count myself among the stars to have received such a precious gift. Your glistening skin under a full moon is like the beauty of a hundred thousand golden harps played by the heavenly angels in eternal light. The delicateness of your aura I will protect with my life. Like a master wine taster I inhale your aroma, and your sweet taste I savor. You are the diamond everyone could not see; you are finely polished and you shine in your beauty. Your cut, color, and clarity are the embodiment of a goddess. In your heart and in your contour you are flawless.
-
The angels cry tears of joy over fuchsia skies
Galaxies come together in endless time
The wailing of doves trying to ascend
Past earth’s atmosphere pierces the heavens
A full moon reflects the sun’s light in awesome wonder
The bonds of fear and sorrow are torn asunder
A new song is sung where the eagles gather
The bears come out of hibernation
To witness the redemption of a nation
Children marvel at their new white wings
And eagerly take their ascension
The dark crows gather together on wires in unison caw
Ravens clean their dark feathers and curiously look on
Lost loves find each other and instantly new life is born
Polaris generously gives of her light
The earth is beautiful under the brightness of the starlight
Aphrodite kisses Adonis and weeps in agony
Hades summons Persephone and shakes the underworld
A sword and shield of solid gold
Graces the adornment of the archangel Michael
The earth spins on it’s axis and repeats the same cycle
The other planets envy the Earth’s bounty
Mercury whispers to Venus in jealousy -
As the moon reflects the light of the sun,
So are you also my light, my son.
