shadows – Opinions Of Eye

Questions –

“I want to say somewhere: I’ve tried to be forgiving. And yet. There were times in my life, whole years, when anger got the better of me. Ugliness turned me inside out. There was a certain satisfaction in bitterness. I courted it. It was standing outside, and I invited it in.” ― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

summerswarrior

A vague feeling possesses my soul anonymously. Where does it come from? Does it brood in the dark waiting for a chance to squeeze through my door like a sneaky black cat darting between my legs for a chance to roam? Why would I want to sequester it like I need its undivided decision about who I am? I’m running around madly chasing the minuses of the life’s equation to herd them into a pen and shut the gate. This is hard work and I’m sweating profusely, no wonder I lived so long with them amok among my things. Why do I feel loyal enough to give them such a large field to run in? I thought myself to have won this battle but the little critters spawn like roaches and where I see one, it’s guaranteed that more hide in the shadows. Life is bored with complaints, it’s time for compliments to my soul. Like sour cream on a potato and lemon in the tea, the bitter makes the taste of life more palatable.

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

Disease

“I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness – a real thorough-going illness.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

“Despair filled his skull even more tightly than his own brain. All around him cars filled with normal people perfectly unaware of the disease turning Perry’s body inside out. Fucking normal people.” ― Scott Sigler, Infected

He folded his arms, tightly, like a knot by a five-year-old, and scratching an unconscious itch, wondered at the bloody drop rolling down his aging skin. Wiping it away, he couldn’t help but taste the irony of death. The tics and eccentric behaviors that manifested since the incident made him an odd sort. It wasn’t his fault, he was told about the consequences of playing with the dark. The dark, always forbidding, forever in tales of lore and fables of heroes and damsels, wasn’t he warned? He wanted to see what was hidden, what moved and was caught out of the corner of his eye, begging an explanation. The blackness held an allure, pushing him into a sort of night that comes on those depressed and abused, and holds them, protecting and discouraging at the same time. On that night, he witnessed what others only pretended to know.

Praying to the powers that kept life and death apart, he fell forward into the darkness, wholly accepting whatever lived there. As he strained to see, he knew that his senses were his friends, and not the eyes that betrayed him. The shadows boiled and rolled, threatening, yet, comforting. Things calling him, bringing whispers and tickles on the back of his neck. The holy house stood confident at the beginning, though the shadows within betrayed that camouflage. Some shadows were darker than others, malevolent and unforgiving. These fear provoking shades are the ones he desired, the dangerous, the despised, and angry forgotten ones, forgotten by fear and ignorance, chased away, but only in their minds, they drew his curiosity. As one gathered itself from the rolling chaos, it writhed up from the depths and called his name, not his given name, but a name he never knew, a name that reminded him of fairy tales and legends. This began his love affair with the dark and conceiving a hatred for the cursed disease called life. Others longed to live, but he, only to die. Life offered no solace, no hope, but the great emptiness of death, there a lover waited that never left and forever hissed the affection that only cold embraces can show.

Hidden

“Camouflage is a game we all like to play, but our secrets are as surely revealed by what we want to seem to be as by what we want to conceal.” – Russell Lynes

darkjinn

Cloaks, shields, cover for you.

Duck, run, defense for you.

Leaves they blend with your skin

Camouflage from within.

Scent not your own,

Voice unknown.

Scant you appear.

Leaning away in fear.

Shadows, darkness to confuse

Who can know you, when hiding is your muse?

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

011811

Raven – Destruction of Mania

“Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace. The brightest thunder-bolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” – Charles Caleb Colton

delivermetoevil

The shadows always follow,

to conduct

a hazing of content.

Strange the surreal look

of thunderheads.

When these clouds of doubt

finally break,

I’ll rise from the ashes

this fiery collapsed

fortress of thought.

A thousand oil fields,

with their derricks

furiously pounding,

all working to find treasure

hidden in my mind.

The raven passes these

violators of mind’s defense

and taps the fury to build

a fire from broken dreams.

If you need help for racing thoughts, GET IT

Also Published in Wingposse

05162011

Raven – Destruction of Mania

delivermetoevil

The shadows always follow,

to conduct

a hazing of content.

Strange the surreal look

of thunderheads.

When these clouds of doubt

finally break,

I’ll rise from the ashes

this fiery collapsed

fortress of thought.

A thousand oil fields,

with their derricks

furiously pounding,

all working to find treasure

hidden in my mind.

The raven passes these

violators of mind’s defense

and taps the fury to build

a fire from broken dreams.

If you need help for racing thoughts, GET IT

Also Published in Wingposse

05162011

The Greatest Question

“Don’t you know that I’ll be around to guide you
Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you
Returning nightmares only shadows
We’ll cast some light and you’ll be alright
We’ll cast some light and you’ll be alright for now” – Zero7

Behind all the crazy things men do, in all the tears cried by women, even the thing that Jesus cried out, is this question:

“Daddddddy whereeeeee arrrrreeeee youuuuuuu?”

Snuff of Innocence

“… you don’t have to wait for someone to treat you bad repeatedly. All it takes is once, and if they get away with it that once, if they know they can treat you like that, then it sets the pattern for the future.” – Jane Green, Bookends

ardentembrace

With the subtly of snakes, he creeps through the grass

Lust on his mind, his tongue tasting the innocence

Peeling the soul away leaving his dying life behind

Pushing his severity on one left alone

Fear is the knife held to a young neck

Forcing a change, cracking the tender mind

Raising to her feet, looking through the shock

A numbness begins, heaven’s after thought to this evil

Vigilance now a trance to see the blurred face of the enemy

Shadows take shape, forever they will chase

Hiding, pulling the dark around like a quilt

This soul will do more than agonize over dead matters

Lay down now you thirsty demon

Shaking herself the young woman becomes a nightmare

Also published in Broowaha

01162012

Beautiful Silence – Words never heard, but plainly understood

“He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.”
― Elbert Hubbard

bpl

Evening unexpected, a happening unforeseen

Things all new, before not a thought

Following the wild road

Only going where I don’t plan

Beautiful silence, the wind not whispering a thing

as it plays with your hair.

Beautiful silence, the moon quietly casting shadows

of our hands dancing together

Beautiful silence, the clouds a captive audience

to our tryst by the sea.

Seeing miracles as I let go

Holding you close a myth is born

The night still young with untapped energy

Laughter unfolds, unprovoked and easy

Beautiful silence, the wind not whispering a thing

as it plays with your hair.

Beautiful silence, the moon quietly casting shadows

of our hands dancing together

Beautiful silence, the clouds a captive audience

to our tryst by the sea.

Reality blurs into a dream

Thoughts quiet now except for the pursuit

Good things do happen, I take the chance

I wake with a smile, oh what a night.

Also published in Broowaha

01082012

Wrestled Notes

“I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore; when he beats his bars and he would be free, it is not a carol of joy or glee, but a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core.” – Paul Laurence Dunbar

andreation

Simple prognosticated rhythms flow and diverge

Collapsed principles pile in crumpled beats

Pounding the seconds to say a moment

A tickled thought dances in pretend reality

Hobbled by fettered hope in surreal mist

Finding shadows that breathe life in short bursts

Life’s nemesis throttles the throat of peaceful suns

Wrestled notes become a winged song