One and one are still one(s)

Widowed.

I know.

Defining the living

differing 

from the dead

no more

less is more

time

heals, they say, better

someday, you'll see, after

waking me from my 

apathy 

Alone

and at times 

afraid.

Arachnophobic, he was anyway

weakling for his size

entangled in his own webs

he chose to 

attach to hollow branches

before wind wakes

taking down 

all trace

of home, snare, trap, nest

I should feel blessed to be free 

of all the same hospice

And just this

One 

got away alive. 

Photo by Uwe Jelting, 2004 CC0, in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Foretelling

The tower of Babel crumbled
close to Heavens Gate
under the weight of words
being tossed across
crooked beams of Meaning,
colliding with brute force
like wrecking balls or
oblong Egos
characters fell
one by one.

The virus spread viciously
devouring breathless bodies
whose lungs collapsed
in fevered white surrender
making trespassers doubt
ownership.
Perhaps by taking flight,
the wingless mammals
mistook their own shadows for
Angels
of Mercy.

Maybe, like Icharus
we flew too close to the sun
singeing and singing our victory
songs. Hymns and hers
breaking the speed of light.
He resurfaces atop the rubble
of Babel
only spread his sickly self destructive
wings around the globe
suffocating us with immortal
whims and wicked winds.

None would dare say
aloud
it sounded like
lightning
a curse
or zero in zero chance
our earthly eyes
would adjust to this light.




Artwork by Sergey Solomko (1855-1928) 'Icarus' Dream' in Public Domain. 

likeness

The colors blended
one moment, one thing divides
a-similitude



Painting by Albert Bierstadt, Yosemite, Twin peaks, c.1859 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Times itself

One may find themselves

screaming

from the inside out

LEAVE ME ALONE

and it becomes about

the other

but it never was.

Anyway we attempt to shrug it off

and shirk the cloak of

personability,

it falls with a heavy

THUD. 

By the way-

you were not your own

To be ALONE with

any more than anyone else here weighted down,

and plodding along, prodded on, and prattling on…

It is this nauseousness that makes

mouths salivate for solitude

amidst the stench of obligation,

shit hits the fan,

demanding more

than

a breezy greeting, acknowledgment in

passing as in aloof or aloft and 

above it, over it, 

all over one

that never was. 





Painting by Charles Sprague Pearce, c. 1889 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A big mouth is needed to swallow the multiverse

Is the multiverse unlikely, meaning unlikable to us,
because liking multiples of the same things 

seems all too impersonal?

Do you ever get the impression that we all concoct alter egos 

because these creative blends of us, 

seem more colorful, more pleasing as when we put on airs or

our Sunday best?

In the spirit of good versus evil, 

it is in the realm of dreams that that wishy-washy haze happens
to occur to us naturally, like swirls, repetitively, relevant, fractal and

speaking to us in a language we have forgotten
but makes perfect sense.

While conversely, 

the domain of fright lurks in the mulberry shade, 

she had red nectar dripping from yellow teeth,
thick with motive 

and a mare, a black unicorn
rides across the endocarpous venom of night.

Aha! By chance

what ever shape it was, a light shone on Idea, 

inhabitants of both Inverses,
yet you are the only connection
to Brilliance.

Fear- as in pure concentration on failure,

shall break focus of the glass eyed many, 

the multitudes, multitudinous, 

appear as a collective blur, 

there must be just one
that blinks...

Inside,  

i seek connection and likeness in this

one way reflection. From inside mind shells,

these walking souls on water wheels,
were still

spinning too fast
and wet behind the ears.

Painting By Alice Bailly (self-portrait, 1917) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

dues

Re-member-you were

One once before going so-

lo(w) and beholden.

By Lady Lawley (c. 1914) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A lone danger

The more I am
alone
the more time
I am alone,
alone, a-lone
a lone
one
I am
late, so late, elated, and finally full,
joyful, full of over-brimming bliss
an energy to explore, a desire to dive down
deeper and intimately drown in my senses,
swallowing all self whole.
I smile at leaving a gaping hole
where the eye
is spotted, leaving it beheaded and indebted
for the fruitful loss of self, rare in its abundance
we never say we like me this way today...
We re-cognitize, recognize our righteousness
doesn't come without cue
We have been wrong
pre-occupied
so long, a good bye, even now
I tremble,
still
a lone
euphoric
one,
only, once-ly
lately
lonely
wanting more
of less.



Image of painting by Paolo Veronese, Muse with a Lyre (c.1561), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

One on One, or Eleven

I.

It is only breaking the rules 

if you are playing the same game.

II.

They are called Higher Truths

because they go over the heads of those looking down.

III.

Popular and award-winning are not goals,

they are only endings.

IV.

Despite the reflection in the mirror,

you've only met in passing.

V.

Success is doing what you're good at every day,

even when it is not successful.

VI.

Education is a service, learning is a luxury,

and comprehension is a privilege. 

VII.

A nest egg is for your children's future.

VIII.

Spend your legacy in your lifetime. 

IX.

Real love is pure selflessness. 

X.

Dreams are conversations.

XI.

Art tells secrets.

Creativity is light and light.

Image By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], The world's history, a history of the world.  via Wikimedia Commons.

One thing at a time

Looking at parts of the hole
I see
minuscule matters
and things such as these
meta seek and micro zoom
You said and I said
We mean
the small pieces, by letter
one
It's hard to hear
the echo is blurry
what do you see
in the closeness?
One
there are clouds
clods of dirt and minerals
gems, fools gold
made into shiny clay
by the minuteness of
concentration
pulled into Virga
amounting to nothing
but the pressure to become
one
haboob
passing through
what was
once
a lush landscape.


Image by Grant W. Goodge, NASA, in N. Caroline, Virga from atop Flat Top Mountain.