Believing in Ghosts

A nice break 

to heal...

The real world awaits

-our authentic attention-

not to mention

(Your) Life is not on(the)line

& is most simply an Alt. identity; 

salty audience driven arrogance

boasting and posting 

egotistic in-

significancies

(please)

 

Pixelated phantasies thrive

in social (media) circles,

round and empty 

vacuum souls.

Dive deeper into delusion,

alternate versions of you illusory

packaged for others to see,  

so-Pretty-are all empty (boxes),

apparitions inside avatars

for show.

Friends, 

Floating in your mainstream

is not what it may seem

carried with the flow

surface deep on Lethes 

and Styx. 

Not only ghosts 

pass through doors

of intangibility.  

Painting by Théodore Chassériau [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Super Moon 2016

Shadows at night
where wolves delight
soloists under spotlight
weaves and watches
the carnal illuminators
make mythic obscurities
to taste to night.

The frozen pine aches fixed
posing proper around the palisade
bats swing silently in the eave
while a couple of country owls
seek around in unisong
for the fox that plays the child
while the puma preys, and remains wild.

An hour more magical miscreancy
left to fancy fullness in excess
lavishly luna lends her silver linings
in phantom phases
bewitched but ever grave
over night like this luscious

black sea, velvet
tidings in abundance
this softer sway
to ward
the lite of tapering
day, courtship comes
home.



Image credit: unknown, (source: social media share) account holder anonymous. 

Define Y

Why did you have me
when all you wanted was to give me away?

Why did you take me
when all you could do was give up on me?

Why did I try-so hard
to get nowhere new?

Why did i bother the universe
trying to make matter more real, make real matter more...
?

Why did you stand behind me,
only to run away?

Why did we come together
only to divide
and reduce ourselves
to the lowest
common
man?

Why did I believe in Love
after all i have seen, after what has been?

When did all of We
become only (m)e?

Why should we try
to solve
for
x
?

Painting by By Germán Gedovius (en es) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Impression: Make or Take

There is what we see
                                  externally
And what we think of what we see
-internally.
Indivisible, one
Being
shaped by exterior circumstance
molded into our interior meaning
Livelihood
Will we survive, we Will.
Pursue. Ensue.
For a time, from this view,
from here you see-
Not the same as I do.
cogito ergo sum
Visualize wisely then,
this becomes more vivid
clearly
one Beings
                   eternal reality
fixated to fill in focus.



Painting By Anna Palm de Rosa (1859-12-25/1924-05-02) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

(in)Tuit

The silent one knowing,
failing how to say
without both saying
and knowing wrong.

Is indignified by others,
esteemed by self-sufficiency
and exhibits a corresponding
lack of regard.

Not you.

It was another time,
and always the same
we made more than may be
handled, physically, intrinsically-

Innate to few, too few,
find efficiency fair enough
or judicious for All
intents and purposes.

Say nothing (more).




Photo (held) By Smithsonian Institution [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Doris Caesar, American Sculptor. Description from Wiki "Doris Caesar sculpted expressionist figures of women, religious figures and flowers. She used distortion and an emotional, loose style in which the unsmoothed thumb marks in the clay remained as a textural element in the finished bronze pieces. Over time, her style developed to be more smooth-surfaced. She was also a prolific writer publishing "Phantom Thoughts" in 1933 and "Certain Paths" in 1935."

Dude, where's my car?

The usual parking spot
taken again!
It shouldn't bother me-
since these arrangements are all
temporary.
A reminder of routine,
a barb to burst the bubble
feathers to rustle and I was flustered
as I looked around to make sure I had
everything
worth stealing,
holding nothing of value but the health
to walk,
I locked the sad car
a block down the street
by the Montessori school-closed on Sunday.
I tried to shrug it off when looking behind me
I see history-
blinding me-
replayed out-a memory
in bursts of heliographic signaling.
The old apartment with an ex,
the sun glinting on the front window
of the dark living room, the two
fields below, the
dark stairwell in the middle,
the figures fighting blurry...
I know I am seeing too far
too vividly.
So I walked the other way,
               don't look back
again, I tell myself.
Turning the
corner
home
I wish I could forget such trivial things
such as where I am parked
or how I have lived elsewhere
too close to home.



Photo By Härmägeddon (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sere

Sere
see here,
it was hot.

Hotter than sin,
at November daybreak
and the swept sky revealed
traces, as wind,
Saint Ana blew through,
while the inferno loitered along
the way gathering a static, cult-ish
hung as tense air, sacrificing
the people clung to silence.

And as the details,
our stars bartered
over-night
over our dead bodies,
see here
some slept all the while
some wept themselves barren
and some became swept up by isms,
enrapt in labels, and role playing,
naming and claiming knowing,
the game goes on.
Rock.
Paper.
Scissors.

Sere and silent,
dumbfounded,
surrounding the crackling air-
This is where we
do not care
about whom you cannot touch
person-ally.
Such as the trim horizon
off in the distance,
taut sharply to keep apart
certain matters, reactions
into lumps of coal, carbon-copied
canaries as luminaries
See
we sing while we may
hear, cause for flight.

Somewhere over there
the water danced with a veil of flames,
the ice smoked with dramatic intention,
the clouds caused accidents low and high,
the land split open its molten chasm, hungry
to matter more.

See here
the red in the sky
is just a reflection...
Starting over.
This is how
Saints from below
wave their victory flames to Autumn.

Anew, we feed Prometheus who fumes immortality
burning his precious people
in the name of Pandora, igniting
fauna and flora to flee
anywhere less sere,
less here
threadbare and awestruck
like lightening.


Painting by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.