Tag Archives: Dante

Unrealized Apologies

There is nowhere to hide,

From yourself,


For one cannot hide from their own truth,


The perpetration of penetrating solemn condemnation,

For I have been measured,

As was our child,

Found wanting,

Laying bare,


A soul to shine,



Filled with a lust for life,

Not just mine own,

But also of that higher calling,

The calling of all species,




Commanded by a power I can not see,

But courses through my veins,

A purpose driven emotion,

Long repressed,

Only to once more,

Come off and up,

From a moment of sheer ecstasy,

The giddy smile, of a beauty rare,

Caught in the resplendence of a soul,

Hmong Key,

That also wanders,

Nomadic, lost and free,

Confused and scared,

Just as I was,

Just as I am,

Allowing once more,

Things outside of my control,

To fell me,

Like an ear of corn,


Lopped off like Van Gogh’s,

Where the darkness of the night,

Reveals no stars,

Just hidden scars,

However, there can be no removal of this stain,

Upon my soul,

Upon my soul,


Whereby again the forces at work,

Arisen from the past,

Cry out to me,

In tomes and hues,

Of a sorrow that I cannot deny,

A sorrow I will not deny,

Zion clenched from my ready fist,


To fight for what is right,

Yet, here I am, exposed,

Sitting here,

In abject pain,

Once caused by a tango,

Of we, two,

A beautiful night,


Of passion raw and rare,

Glimpsing the prospect of a new portend,

The life imagined,

So many times before,

Foolish hubris of youth,

The mental anguish of the manic high,

Brought on by the words I have longed to hear,

“I’m pregnant!”

Longing temporarily answered,

One moment of paradise, found, moments,


Words every bit,

If not more powerful,


“I love you!”

For those words,

Demand a higher calling answer,

The Ether,

My Mistresses Destiny, Serendipity, and Fate,

Dancing me ever closer,

Without consent,

Achelous’ daughters,

Calling me ever nearer to a manifest providence,

That once more sought and seeks,

To destroy me,

Figurative and literal,

While Demeter rebukes them,

And I,

And I and I,

What can I say,

What can I do,

To escape this tortured hell,

Greeted by my Black Dog,

Cerberus no longer chained,

Ready and willing to feast not just on my soul,

But that of you and our child,

Whose only crime,

Was conception,


The complete circles of Dante’s comedy,


Yet cast as I am,

Into the fiery pits,

Devastated once more,


By the circumstances of fortune,

That favoured not this bold,

Warrior Poet,

For in my candor,

In my moment of sheer bliss,

I could not see,

I would not see,

That which was so obviously painted in front of me,

As it had been behind me all these years,

Hell has a permanent place in my soul,

Travelling with me every step of the way,

As the Devil, dances, gleefully,

Like Nero,

Fiddle in hand,

As my insides burn,

Invisible to you,

Realized to me,

A tortured existence,

Brought on by ill tempered passion,

Though surely, I would gladly trade,

Every breath,

Every beat of my heart,

That my child may have lived,

Our child,

For the capacity, with love tendered,

Would have rendered a cherished gift,


To behold,

As surely, I would have,

In addition, indeed venerate at this moment of delicious torment.

Those words,

Sweet when softly spoken,

Inside a darkened room,

Forbearing this brooding sentience,




As the decision made,

Not by me,

Had no other choice,

No other choice,

But to stand back and watch,

A further demise,

Like Icarus, I had flown,

Too close to the sun of my own realizations,

Be careful what you wish for,

As the hidden truths of majority rule,

Are nothing but the illusion,

Of allusion,

Creed of dissent,

My voice drowned out,

My will denied,

As a piece of me died,


Once more,



By the defeat of necessity,


Not necessarily so,

But the weakness of temptation,


Leads down a path more taken,

Rather than the one which makes all the difference,

Would have,

Could have,

Should have,

Priorities checked and unchecked,


By the iniquity of my own acquiescence,

Though nothing could be done,


Vacuous apologies,

Masking terribly this gloomy sorrow,


Sorry is not the hardest thing to say,

It is the hardest thing to realize,

For even in these words,

This expression of endless grief,

I know what I have done,

What we have done,

To what I have been a party,

To what we two caused, both in love and in lust,

Deceived by youthful exuberance,


Blood on my hands,

My own,

Our own,

That of our child,



Determined resilience to a lifetime concerned,

Whereby everything in that moment changed,

I remember,

Hmong Key,

The exact expression,

That you feared would be our demise,

Instead exposing my lifelong desires,

Deftly engaged,

For months,

Until hell hath no fury,

Like cultural mores,

And the stink of corroding flesh,

The die already cast,

Our own,

I remember,

I remember,

I remember,

Now lost inside the strain and sorrow,

Of knowing,


Tomorrow and tomorrow,

Was taken not just from you or I,

But the beautiful bright eyes,

Of the life we destroyed,

Sorry just does not seem to be enough,

Not for me,

Not now,

Not here,

With the advent of a child,

Torn from my longing desires,

Now in passionate retreat,

Sorry will never be enough,

Not for me,





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Good Sender Hunting


Since my birth I have shirked convention,

I am FAR from conventional,

I guess some of you might call me a pain in the ass,

Especially those that never did nor could get me,

But if we are calling spades, let us call this spade what it really is;

I have at various points of my life worked as a video clerk,

A flyer guy for a start up Pastry store,

A Customer Service agent at a utility call centre,

I have owned and operated two consulting firms both far ahead of their time,

With a partner who still luckily adores me,

Started a Philanthropy,

G O O D P E O P L E… cause that is what we are, right?

I have worked as a trash compactor service repairman,

A private investigator,

A Club promoter

And have I left anything out,

Chef and even an Online Retail General Manager

Oh yeah, not to mention…


…a political operative at all levels of the democratic process in Canada

and around the world!


Since my birth I have shirked convention,

Why should I try to fit my square

Into your circle?


I have been everything to everybody and ultimately,

Nothing to myself,

I have done enough to survive,

Knowing that at some point survival would come in handy,

And it has,

Just look at me now,

Life is my oyster,

Despite and in spite of all my pain,

Twice lost children

And all I could do was cry,

Three times lost love,

And all I could do was cry…
But I march on,

Press on,


Since my birth, I have shirked convention,

I have attended the best schools and the best universities,

None of which knew what to do with me,

I have spit up the mental vomit that was required of me,

And still feel the putrid bile in my throat,

And then some,

All in an effort to get a piece of paper,

That said I was educated,

An empty promise from our schools I assure you.



Since my birth, I have shirked convention,

I have whacked my head against the wall many times, too many to count,

I have thrown shit against the wall and tried to see

What might stick?

And it never did,

And so I wonder;


Since my birth, I have shirked convention,

On many a whim I can quote Plato,

Aristotle and NWA in the same paragraph,

Drawing conclusions and making assumptions that few could ever see,

Nor dare to,

Lacking the conviction to think for themselves,

I can remember the first time I was called a liar,

I mean truly a liar,

By a librarian,

Because I had read 100 books in a summer,

I was so surprised that a woman of letters,

A woman I had been taught to respect,

Would have so little faith in an inquiring mind,

To belittle her thought

I asked her to flip any book to a page,

So I could demonstrate to her,

What a great mind looked like,

Needless to say she never questioned me again,

Though I still feel this great mind is in need of more,

Do you understand?

Can you?


I have studied the classics,

All of them,

Not in school,

Not in a classroom setting and not because I have to,

I studied them looking for that piece of me

that might somehow make sense of my life,

Great reads to be sure,

Great mind developed in tow,

Inspiring great minds as well,

May I inspire you?


Though I still seek the answers,

Do you know where I could look?

Do you know where I should look?


I have read, thought about and drawn my own conclusions,

On Smith, Hobbes and Locke,

Coming to Rousseau and knowing that I do think,

And that is the only thing that I can be certain of,

Well that and I can write,





Dickens has entranced me,

Falling into two cities like they were equal but separate parts of my brain,

Bipolar hemispheres that are in constant duel,

Black dog howling,

Virginia Woolf crying,

Churchill smoking a Churchill,

Hemingway with a shotgun in his mouth,

Shelley, Tennyson, and Mohammad have wooed me,

I have had my eyes opened, by Cohen, Kissinger, and Machiavelli,

I have consumed with great interest Dante,

The Divine Comedy is right,

Funny I cannot peg which circle of hell I belong to,

Tragedy though seemingly my path,

Though I can tell which of the seven deadly sins I have committed,

I have been victim to the giants of the literary world,

Been the willing passenger to the other shirkers of convention;

Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, and Mailer,

I have stood on the edge with Dylan both Bob and Thomas,

Also looking at religion with an open heart and mind,

Though drawing conclusions that so few people like,




Poe has hugged me,

I have been beat up by Shakespeare,

Enthralled by Bronte and Austin,

I have consumed mass amounts of Vodka,

Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy counted amongst my mental friends,

Despite their constant battles,

Rasputin always wins;


I have read the Bible, The Koran, Torah, and Bhagavad-Gita,

In search of an answer that never comes,

Will it ever,

Perhaps in the end?

I have had conversations with Rabindranath and Flaubert,

Contemplated the nature of life with Darwin,

And questioned it with Kafka and Rushdie,

I have dreamed with Cervantes and Balzac

(damn Absinthe almost made me sane)

While William Golding laughed from the corner;

As he chuckled; “Piggy, piggy, piggy,”

All I heard was “Sender, Sender, Sender…”


I need not respond as George Bernard Shaw sent him packing,

Embraced by Chaucer and held in place,

At every step of the way,

By a system that had no concept of what to do with me,

But I have survived,


For all the haters,


Those who have doubted me.


I have been told that my brain is too big to fail,

Kind of like American Banks,

Save that I have no need of a government bailout,

For the government has failed me too,

At every step of the way,

Corrupt for them,

Corrupted by them,

To the point of personal destruction.


Good Sender Hunting,

Is now where I am?


And I am hunting,

For you, wherever you are,

I am hunting,

Looking for the freedom of expression that is guaranteed me,

The peace, order, and good government that we profess,

The ability to find meaningful work,

To inspire,

To uplift,

To inform and bring joy,

To study as I please,

To write as I please,

To find a way to survive in this world,

That has no use for me,

Except these words,

And in the end my soul friends have always been words,

On a page,

Written by men and women in a far off land and time,

Wondering if I would have hit the same wall,

Thrown the same shit,

And suffered the same sacrifice,

In the name of survival,

In their ages,

Or would I be celebrated like sages?


Good Sender Hunting,

but my life no movie,

though if it were surely a tragedy


And all I want,

Is to have a place,

That I can call home,

Is it here, now, with you? Figurative!


Not more nor less than I need to survive and thrive,

One word, one sentence, one paragraph at a time;



For I am not in control of the many parts of me,

That led me to this page,

These words,

This continent,

This country,

This city,

These kids…


I am a maverick,

A modern renaissance man in search of civilization’s enlightenment,

Have any of you seen it,

Heard it,

Felt it,

Can you point me in the write (intentioned) direction?

Because really,

I am lost,

And hunting

definitely an original,

For Sender.

Will you help me?

Because I really like apples…



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I awoke from a terrible dream,
A horrible fright that I will never escape,
I was subject to the Spanish Inquisition,
On trial for doing what I do best,
They proclaimed that I was a blasphemer,
Because I question the laws of nature,
As professed by “their God”.

As I sat,
Listening to witness testimony,
That was more creative than anything I could ever produce,
Or have ever written,
I became mortified by the prospect,
That my life,
Will be cut short,
For reasons not unlike the Salem Witch trials,
For something over which I have no control,
This went on for hours,
And each testimonial seemed destined to send me to the afterlife,
At least I knew that Virgil and Dante would be there waiting for me,
I wondered who else might be there,
All the while thinking;
“And yet it moves.”
No inhibition when battling inferior minds,
Inferior conventions!

Asked to stand before the kangaroo court,
The show trial of the millennia,
I refused to obey,
For I did not concede that they held dominion over me,
(My body perhaps but not my spirit)
Clearly my mission was one of refuting what was already widely seen as irrational,
“Do you accept our God?”
I did not answer,
Asked again moments later, I still did not move an inch,
Nor say a word.

It was here that the dream took a menacing turn,
Testimonials complete,
It was time for sentencing,
Though there was never a doubt in my mind as to the sentence,
I was asked to stand before the court,
And before God,
And still I refused,
“For your insolence and ignorance,
For your continued blasphemy and clear lunacy…”

The next sentence came in fast forward;

“You are sentenced to death in the most painful way possible,
You will suffer for your sins,
You will suffer for your indignation.”

I started to laugh as I sat in direct defiance of the supposed,
Godly men that sat before me,
Thinking to myself,
These are the emissaries of God on earth,
God help us all.

Only a few days went by,
Before I was called to my fate,
The purging of a mind that shirks convention,
Bound and shackled,
I was led to an awaiting crowd,
Overflowing and teeming masses,
Huddled to watch my death,
The Scarlet genius’ sitting perched over them,
I was tied down to a stone tablet,
Instruments of torture used upon my flesh,
Though I did not bleed,
Only words flowed out of my body,
With each gash asked if there was anything I would like to confess,
My confessions floating freely from my spirit,
Dangling over the supposedly divine personages,
My essence,
Continued to flow,
More gashes,
More words,
More words,
More gashes,
Until finally,
I woke up…

With the following in my head;

“Neck laudas nisi mortuos poetas: tanti non est, ut placeam, perire”
Meaning…” If only dead poets are praised, I’d rather go unsung”

These words,


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The Gravitational Force of Light

In the darkness devoured,
My soul had sunk into Virgil’s pit,
Where Dante laughed,
As Cerberus feasted on my desolations,
Wanderlust and curious fascinations,
Believing that this was home,
Until you,
When screaming and tortured souls
Have been instantly transformed,
By the angelic quality of your smile,
The once gathering clouds have abated,
Giving way to a beauty reserved for
What dreams may come,
And come they have,
You have,

The gravitational force of light, of love,
Unleashing in me an elegant reappraisal,
Of all I thought was true,
On this journey of self discovery,
Blessed deity without compromise,
Enlightenment in your poise,
As reminiscences of Aphrodite call to my heart strings with hushed murmurs of your name,
Everything once known is foreign,
Everything once foreign is known,
As now I beseech you to open your sixth sense,
Such that you can devour what you already know is true,
Or should,
For hand in hand,
As our eyes locked,
And our words tangled,
We both felt at ease,
When was the last time I felt at ease?
So while you shine,
Which you effortlessly do,
Beaming positive radiance,
Defying space, logic and time,
May I please adore you,
That your smile brighter dislodge this trembling existence ,
May I take care of you,
Allowing you to see a life lighter,
May I profess universal truths,
That you yourself have revealed to me,
May I beseech you,
Implore you,
Revere you
And beg,
That you,
Return to,


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Mistress Fate

Mistress Fate,
Cruel companion of my ill fated destiny,
My disdain for you obvious,
Only now,
As when you, Mistress Fate,
Place a kind finger upon my soul,
I soar,
It seems Mistress Fate that you are,
Leading me down a garden path,
Each day further and indeed farther,
From where it was intended,
I was intended,
To emerge,
Forms complete of the ashes of my own disquiet,
Sullen pages of reckless torment,
And how am I now screaming,
At the universe,
With all I have,
Please rain down on me,
A star that will shine for me alone,
Beacon to that spot where you,
Mistress Fate intends,
For I can no longer portend,
I will not portend,
With loving missives,
Though I crave those words above all else,
And haunting tomes,
Those that purge this soul’s toxic sludge as Stalin once did,
Passion the same for each,
One toward the light,
The other to the dark,
Divided as I am,
Tormented ,
Beguiled and betwixt,
By two extremes,
That led me even further down the garden path,
Reach out for me Mistress Fate,
Extend your courtesy,
Let me lay at the feet of your mindful grace,
Take me by the hand,
As if I were a child,
Your child,
Though do not scorn me,
Instead embrace me,
That I may begin the journey,
Seemingly a marathon,
To where you doth command,
As I feel like a slave though would prefer to honour you,
As humble servant,
To your every whim,
One moment on top of the world,
The next,
Sent to deal with Virgil and Dante,
Cerberus at the Gates of my personal Hell,
Though the Devil kept at bay,
The plague that threatens my life,
With wayward thoughts,
Those not of my creation,
Though clearly of my submission,
Though not an overt omission,
Some things are better left unsaid,
Even to you,
Mistress Fate,
To the forces at work,
Your forces at work,
Savage taskmaster,
School yard bully,
How can this be,
Is this a just reward,
Shall there be a just reward,
Mistress Fate,
Yet to find your way,
Back to me as Angel
Rather than as Loki ,
I have grown tired of the sharp attack of the fallen,
My contempt growing by the minute,
As I realize that your fickle finger,
Is poking me,
Prodding me,
Rather than directing me,
I scream to you,
My marathon yet run,
I beseech you,
I beg of you,
I plead for the sake of all that is right and just in the universe,
Mistress Fate,
Unlock the insane gestures,
Of this tired mind,
Let me ascend to the starry heights,
That I may be closer to your will,
Reveal to me,
A new beginning,
Where all I crave,
All I deserve,
All I’ve ever wanted to know,
Can be mine,
Please Mistress Fate,
Let me know my destiny,
As intended,
From the day I was born.

And so it shall be,
So it now is
By your fickle finger,
That now I arise,
Awoken giant no longer sleeping,
Shining for those who need it most to see
And I am left humbled
By your grace,
I am,


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Vide Cor Meum

Vide Cor Meum,
“and thinking of her, sweet sleep overcame me,”
uno soave sonno
As it should,
For she is a distant memory,
A dream once lived,
A life once promised,
A love once requited,
But no more,
Not for this fool,
Now a nightmare delivered,
As thinking of her,
Made sleep elusive,
My heart trembling,
My soul crying,
My mind fearing,
That these words,
Are all I know,
And nothing more shall I be granted,
Lowly fool,
Insolent and arrogant ass,
“joy is converted, to bitterest tears,”
Vide cor meum,
I am not at peace,
I am not at peace,
As dangled right before my eyes,
Right before my life,
Was the opportunity for more,
And I had blown it,
My tender heart,
Feeling as though it had stopped,
Been stomped upon,
Feeling as if this was the new normal,
And that sweet sleep,
Now gives way,
To tortured insomnia,
I am not at peace,
As I seek the precious,
I am not at peace,
As I long for more,
“I am your master, See your heart”
my heart is burning like the sun,
humbled by love’s retreat,
“weeping, I saw her then depart from me,”
As Dante suggested;

“So that I desire to be like one
who to conceal his poverty through shame,
shows joy outwardly,
and within my heart am troubled and weep”
When will these tears stop,
When shall this river of despair dry up,
Is it in the knowing that someday,
this bitter heart,
will again enjoy,
the piece of the heart,
that is reserved for the greatest of loves,
the grandest,
and these bitter tears,
will give way,
to whatever this heart will allow,
though questioning still,
Will love return?

“ego dominus tuus”
I long for you to be my master,
Seen in my heart,
Since my birth,
Oh love,
Where are you now?
Where will you be when I am ready?

La Vita Nuova

Vide cor meum.


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Just Ask Dante (A Manifesto)

Portal Into My Brain,
Though first a warning,
Which I beseech you to heed,
Are you sure you want to see,
Are you sure you a ready,
Are you sure of anything at all;

As I can tell you,

Abandon all hope ye that enter here…

As Dante warned…

“Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.”

I am a lost little boy,
Blonde hair and blue eyes,
A terrified and frightened little boy,
Looking for the light though overcome by darkness,
A descending darkness that is blacker than a moonless night,
And in here,
This wasteland,
At once beautiful and repulsive,
There are no stars to guide you,
No stars to guide I,
Only despair,
A Peter Pan looking for my Tink,
That I may once again fly,
For my wings have been clipped,
And I am blinded and choking on the acrid stench of death and lost hope,
Synapses firing,
Faulty wiring,
My depression all consuming,
All consuming,
All consuming,
I wish to no longer be consumed.

As a boy,
I was greeted by a voice,
A tyrannical voice,
That told me I was destined for greatness,
And all these years I have suffered,
Toiled and tired,
For greatness has not touched me,
To you a sign of arrogance,
To me an acknowledgment,
Greatness has passed me by,
At every attempt,
At every step,
Greatness has punched me in the face,
Kicked me while I was down,
And repeated time and again;
You’re not good enough
You’re not strong enough,
You’re a failure,
You’re nothing,
Told to me so often that I’d begun to believe it,
Nervous breakdown the result,
Am I really nothing?

Boy grew into man,
Struggling to keep my way in this world,
Though unwilling and able to ascribe to the arcane,
Those principles that demand my specialization,
Rather than generalization,
Such specialization as to belittle this talent,
You must be a Doctor, A Lawyer, A Banker,
I must be a writer,
Doing only enough to survive,
Never thrive,
So that these words manifest,
As destiny had assured me they should,
Therein lay the rub,
The scourge of the mind,
The scourge of my mind,
I should have,
I could have,
I didn’t,
Thus the blame lay with me,

Inside this brain,
My brain,
This beautiful mind,
A war is being waged,
More powerful than the eternal struggle,
Of good and evil,
Darkness and light,
For inside this mind,
Bizarre creations,
Frivolous contradictions,
Leading to internal hallucinations,
Not just the voices in my head,
But the demons that persecute me,
The gargoyles who feast on hope,
Reminding me, they have concluded,
I am absurd, Greedy, Vengeful, Proud, Slovenly, Envious, Lusting and Glutinous ,
I have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting,
Yes of course I am wanting,
Who doesn’t want,
Don’t you want,
My wants not obscene,
I desire love above all else,
LOVE above all else,
For I would lay down my life,
If it meant that I could know requited agape love,
Nothing material could satiate my desire,
As could a kiss from Muse,
From Lover,
And these are not delusions of grandeur,
I am desirous of love and nothing more,
Nothing else matters,
Can’t you see,

Of those things in my control,
I have honoured that tyrannical voice,
To the best of my ability,
I have written millions of words,
Tens of thousands of pages,
Though this darkness,
My Black Dog,
My fault wiring,
My messed up mind,
Tossed about,
Screwed up brain,
Makes it difficult for me,
To do anything,
To do anything,
I can do nothing,
Save these words,
Those that destiny intended,
And yet I toil and tear.

Man beaten,
This brain,
The portal you are now peering through,
Three separate and distinct parts,
Freud calls the Id, the Ego and the Superego,
I call them I and I and I,
And they are waging war with my sanity ,
The war not over,
I battle,
Both through force of mind,
And pharmaceutical care,
For years self medication in bottles and lines,
Scotch, Wine and Beer,
Cocaine, MDMA and more
Keeping the demons at bay,
Until they no longer were kept at bay,
Cerberus opened the gates of hell,
Casting upon me a fate worse than death,
This struggle.

One moment on top of the world,
Truly Peter Pan,
I am Peter Pan,
I am love,
Flying about without a care,
Save these words,
The next,
Dante pushing me deeper into Hell,
Virgil laughing as my greatness unattained,
Is the cross that I must bear,
And it is too much,
It is too much,
Friends, Family and Lovers I assure you,
At times it is TOO MUCH,
This past week counted,
As one of the most difficult in all my years,
So the fragmented I’s fall deeper into madness,
Deeper into hell,
A hell that only a brain like this could create,
Replete with memories of those I have harmed,
The road to hell paved with good intention,
For by nature,
I am that Peter Pan,
I wish the world to be filled with Pixie Dust,
Rather than weapons of mass destruction,
But of course we are cowards,
Preparing for a war that will never come.

Realizing there is no Pixie Dust,
I am further cast,
Past circle three,
Closer to seven,
Where Dante’s laughter,
Is like pricks of a needle,
Not filled with Heroin,
Though certainly a smack,
Each prick,
One step closer to an assured oblivion,
An oblivion that awaits not only I,
But all those who enter,
Into the darkness.

Man refusing to break,
So the forces come harder,
Stronger and faster,
Trying to rip away from me what is left,
Of this sane mind,
This mind that has seen too much,
That it cannot reveal,
It dare not reveal,
I dare not,
For those truths threaten the very fabric,
Of the institutions that we hold dear,
Afraid as I am of Leviathan,
For I broke the social contract,
And my punishment,
Are these hallucinations,
The voices,
Of which there are several,
Those of the light,
Hemingway, Pound, Joyce, and more,
Those of the dark,
Dante, Virgil and Faustus,
Those of the light,
Begging of me my masterpiece,
Those of the dark,
Daring me to submit to their will,
Daring me,
To end it all,
A struggle for my life indeed,
As I persist,
Framed by this struggle for my mind,
I made no deal with the Devil at the crossroads for this talent,
I did not ask for the skills to which I am appraised,
For which I am applauded,
Accolades graciously provided and accepted daily,
So why the torture,
Why the suffering,

Deeper and deeper,
Further and further away from that careless boy,
The innocent little child that so longs to be me,
Careless with my sanity,
Into a darkness that prevails,
Though love is the answer,
There is only so much that I can bear,
I cannot bear to live this life,
Abandoned as I have always been,
By love,
Family and friends,
Lovers three,
I and I and I,
In the quicksand of a line thin,
That I cross daily.

Manic expressions of love,
Of ignorance,
Of temperance,
Of virtue and vice,
Repeated time and again,
Sixty minutes of every hour,
Twenty-four hours of every day,
All the days of the month,
Into the oblivion of a year,
Can this really be so?

The battle,
For the now,
Seemingly won,
By demonic insurrection,
I can assure you all,
The war is far from over,
For I am Warrior Poet,
And this darkness,
This Black Dog,
These fragments of I,
Those threaten to maim and torture me,
Will be cast from me,
So long as I continue to write,
For these words,
Is my salvation…

My REVOLUTION is begun.

Just ask Dante!

For I Will…



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