October 3, 2023

It is through poetry that I find a way to keep my mind focused where I can walk between the world of dreams and reality. Poetry helps me to understand my dreams and poetry keeps me on track, allows me to focus my anger and to maintain passions that surge in and out of my mind like the flooding and ebbing of the tides. Writing poetry is like opening the pages of dreams and trying to capture the words as they flow and sink like slippery jellyfish into the abyss.

Time is always a fascination for me, how it moves fast when you want it to move slow and how it moves slow when you want it to move fast, how we can be so unaware of the passage of time and how we wish we could go back and make different decisions. Time is a mystery, a force, and an enigma, terrifying in contemplation and joyous in its revelations.

This is one of my poems about Time:

The Corridors of Time

Where do we enter reality on the river of time?

What strange forces determine the point where we first emerge?

What determines the point in our lives where we exit this plane?

When does our heart sense sensuality with which we can rhyme?

Wondrous blessings to our hearts anoint before the deathly dirge 

Watching the butchers sharpen their knives to deliver sweet pain

I rise from the dark depths of desire to quench this bright flame,

Delirium washes over my skin in cold waves of fear

Destiny echoes down the dark silent corridors of time

The cold sweat fails to dampen the fire of my burning shame

Her fingers stroke the strings of the violin so warm and dear 

Her song is a brutal and violent love drenched bloody crime.

Memories become youthful fantasies embellished with rust,

The pathway meanders down a long winding road of success

Forgetting the tensions of our hearts that fade into the past

Emotions seek refuge in embassies accumulating dust

Attempting to purge that which is wrong, I must truly confess

Ink blots stain the dusty weathered charts of life before the mast.

Before what mythical awesome force do I, with tears, confess?

Caressing the foot of fantasy on a hard marbled floor

Yearning to know the Goddess of desire before I die

The points of my life, chart out my course forward nevertheless

Seeking dreams of romantic ecstasy on a forlorn shore

Where I passionately conspire to reach for the sky

We separate our minds from the pulse of the great living Earth

Lost for centuries in a bizarre dimension of make believe

Struggling to raise our heads from the sands of human ignorance

Seeking verity as an impulse from the day of our birth

With each dawn we greet the morning star for a final reprieve

With thunderous applause from the fans of doom at our entrance.

T.S. Elliot wrote that whimpers would end our story

William Blake wrote that desire would end our world with fire

I believe it will be the arrogance of humanity

Humanity has long misunderstood natural history

Humankind is incapable to defend ourselves from desire.

Thus extinction will reward our ignorance and insanity.