Red Light

An idea in isolation,
surrounded by swirling clouds
of a dark, fathomless mist.
In the center of inky splatters of darkness
is a pulsing, crimson light,
emitting a soft warm glow
from edges so defined
yet unfocused.
And so the lens must turned
adjusted, and cranked,
until the light comes gradually into focus
and the idea becomes manifest
completed, with fangs and slashing claws.
dragging the mind into its depths.

Flown Lightning

The feeling of self-perceived strength,
invincibility that leaves angry shock on the faces
staring with red holes gaping angrily through cloudy glass panes
flapping hands, fingers sliding into the shape of unicorn
to thrust forward.
A turmoil is taking place
the lust for attention, a spotlight
to be acknowledged by strangers as
someone filled with scathing power,
to instill fearful admiration
and flee for a moment from their own enclosed worlds,
boxes of thoughts and worries,
and whirlwinds of paper leaves, scattered asunder
just to see, and to be filled with awe.
Ignoring stark reality,
for which there is now only
a dim awareness.
Still there is a will to possess humanity,
to be known in this way
Yet so often the words fail,
the emotions become entangled like
intestines dragged out by clawing branches
And lightning storms through inside
wishing to be flown, exploding in blinding streaks
of destructive power.

911 Emergency

Paramedics, police, or fire department?
A passing thought, why not just bring all three?

There he is, curled up in a painfully skinny little huddle, blood tinging thin lips, twitching bald forehead, clothed with shredded rags, sobbing while he babbles in a thin piping voice about his traumatic experience just a few minutes over.

The firetruck arrives, along with the paramedics.

For all the world cares, the shivering creature on the curb side in the back of a fast-food drive-thru is a insignificant bug that was toppled over on its back. He takes on an appearance as less than human, no one even asks his name.

He has little in his small world, much like a bug crawling around the ground, dwarfed by towering blades of grass. The bigger bad bugs have fled the scene, leaving behind a pile of junk and empty beer bottles.

A bird flies across the deserted lot, and a car passes down the street, blasting heavy metal for all the world to hear.

Stained

Emotions seeping through my mind like spilled coffee, first steaming and fading to dull, cold dampness.
Leaving blemishes on my thoughts, crumpling some into wrinkled abominations, waiting to be blown away by the dusty wind.
Aftershock, jolted to reality for a moment, then back to seething black pits. Beyond horror, removed from red and gold flames. Frozen as an ancient statue in the autumn mist.

Empathy

The ability to see from another perspective
to truly understand the turmoil,
the happiness
the anger
the madness
the joy
the confusion
the bleeding heart
the enlightened spirit
to truly know the thoughts
to experience them in a way only one can know
to understand.
Of this we have none, and there is only One.
And yet we have empathy, that which we use so rarely
to have but a moment to peer into the world of another
to understand from some similar experience
or even of a universal connected feeling
that cannot be compressed into words.
Oh, that there would more of this be expressed,
that such creatures as we would be more than heads
filled with grey knowledge
that cause us to loose our way.
Until at last we are met with the end,
and our lasting backward glance sees that all was in vain.
Pursuing only those interests that we call our own
ruling our own worlds of self importance
and overflowing with our own sickening goodness.
We must have it all, in our greed and self possessiveness
But we have nothing to give to each other that would reach so far as
Empathy.

Equilibrium

There must be balance
in the life that we now lead
lest there be an imbalance, and all falls into disarray
and we are lost in mindless squalor
to escape from the chatter
of beings that have become mindless abstractions
Conniving to distract
from our inward bound endeavors
and to come yet again,
back into the light from the dark crevices of thoughts deep within.
Without one, the other becomes a void
into which we have fallen
given into that which has engulfed us like a mighty ocean
with no dike to hold back the crashing breakers.
For there must be the dry land,
that rests on heaving, living water
The tunnels left open for the rushing sensation to flow as free as the open sky
while at times, there is the dank murkiness of desolation.
And then too, there is empathy,
that cannot be sought, but is found in one place that is closest
To bring equal weight to the practicalities
solutions to every problem
And so, without these, hope there is none,
For the walls have been broken.

Dubliners

"He knew that he would regret in the morning but at present he was glad of the rest, glad of the dark stupor that would cover up his folly. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head between his hands, counting the beats of his temples. The cabin door opened and he saw the Hungarian standing in a shaft of grey light: "Daybreak, gentlemen!" " - James Joyce "After the Race"

"He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine pounding in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the the rhythm to die away. He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone." - James Joyce "A Painful Case"


"His soul swooned slowly as he heard the soul falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, the decent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead." - James Joyce "The Dead"