Tag Archives: invisible scars

This World

This world,

These times we live in,

Are like times we’ve known before,

Not personally, as we haven’t figured out,




Though we can;


We can!


Today is the greatest day and ever more it will be;


As today is here NOW –




We have at our disposal,

The collected knowledge of our species


While we may not yet know how to use it,


We will.


As such,

With the gift of time,

We must be cautious in the use of the many offerings we have.

In spite of a unifying sagacity

We must always embrace the pursuit of more.


Accept that the struggle for understanding,

Will eventually lead to an inner peace

That will manifest outwardly

Instantly creating in that realization

The world that dreamers have long believed in.


In that moment,

The rhyme and reason,

Rhythm, harmony and melody

Of greatly admired movements

Will take on new meanings

As we celebrate our spiritual rebirth.



Save the eventual success of a true and lasting peace

Will ever exonerate our historical failures:







Terror and war.


Yet should we find that higher state of being,

The relative awareness of a new reality

Shaped by the horrors of history,

We will discover the divine plan!


Looking to the sky of this blue marble

Learning about ourselves

And our place in this universe

Everything takes on new import

Through the acquisition of self.


Our past replete with invisible scars

From the extensive beating of our ancestors

With the leather whips of Christian, Jew and Muslim conquerors

And our acceptance of it will remove the cuffs,

Histories shackles as we seek truth.


We are not chained to our past by necessity


We are not doomed to repeat it.


Yet the future is tempered by it

And so long as we unmask our veiled attempts

At sugar coating our past failures

In the search for a better world

We will ultimately succeed in healing age old wounds.


Yet that path is the road less taken;


Accept truth,

The lessons of our past and that we create our future

And instantly the course of history

Blazes a heretofore unseen trail.


In our efforts to reveal honestly our failures

We no longer need to be concealing

The very real feelings we are feeling.


Read more;

Listen more,




Smile often and brightly,

Allow your true self and soul to shine.


Be real,

First to yourself,

Then to those around you,

Act accordingly as that is what true freedom is –


Being real!


The strength and promise of our species,

All one humanity,

Lay in rediscovering the value and benefit of positive self love,

In so much that we can learn to love others,

Rearing its head in every moment

Incredibly changing the scope of our history:

Permanently promising peace,

Both internal






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Je Suis le Roi des Mots


Of these ruins,
My tattered psyche,
I am reborn,
With every cycle,
A revolution,
Personal, atomic and spiritual,
Always reclaiming my domain,
This mind,
King of words,
My throne,
My soul dominion,
Medicated or not these words flow,
Now choosing instead to wage this war,
With myself,
By myself,
For myself,
These words,
Mightier than all the rivers in the world,
Stronger than any standing army,
And all the weapons of all nations in history,
As has been said,
“The Pen Is Mightier Than the Sword,”
And my words are,
For I am transformed when I sit,
In my trance,
Dancing fingers,
Mind alive,

King of these words,
I hold them benevolent,
As this;
One time sullen Prince,
Unable to bear witness to their power,
Knowing it but unable to be advocate,
For my own liberation,
I now proclaim my rightful place;

King of these words;

Words as citizens,
Sentences as my court,
Poems as knights in shining armor,
And Marion as my Muse,
Reborn thus daily,
King of these words,
Master of this house,
No longer of cards,
But instead built upon the only foundation I know,
My mind,
Blessing and curse,
Dogged as I am,
By this dreadful Black Dog,
I persist,
Of these words.

Out of the ashes,
Of this fragmented mind,
Three I’s as one,
I and I and I,
Cycle by cycle,
Deluded not by the world I see,
But rather by the world I don’t see,
Mind alive,
Wings of fire,
Passion reigns,
As I and I,
Accuse myself of relegating I to the dungeon,
As the Tower of London expects me daily,
For which there is no escape,
Invisible scars,
Though I am yet to have the will or strength,
To do what I must,
Or is it here,
Just beyond the hue of my understanding?

Only I can set I free,
And I must,
From this burden,
From me.

I and I and I,
Motivate daily,
Scribbles of escalating intentions,
Less pomp, more circumstance,
In truth,
Without equivocation,
For if I hide from the scourge and the shame,
How am I to be believed,
As I have taken on this crusade,
To let others see what they cannot,
To feel what they can’t or won’t believe,
To find understanding,
Where before there was none,
Do you,

I and I and I,
Witness to the feasibility,
Of this King Poet,
Warrior Poet King,
Testifying that one day,
These sullen cycles of depression and angst,
Will be cast away,
Or at least mitigated,
By force of will,
Running as I have,
From the pharmaceutical nightmare,
That plagued me,
Worse than my dog itself,
Je suis le roi des mots,
I am King,
Of these,


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I’m Glad I Didn’t Meet You… Before… I Died!



It’s funny, how words reach the soul,

From a smiling song,

I’m Glad,

I Didn’t ,


Before I met;


Even an ocean apart,

Once literal,


Now figurative,

No longer true,

For it is beyond the realm of possibility,

That I am starred in the face,

By thoughts that are indeed not,

So great for those ladies of amorous deliberations,


My Mistresses Destiny and Fate,

Sing a tune invisible and unheard,

Like those scars I try to hide,


Through a choir of distant stars,

To a world not ready for their imparts,

One song that reaches at the strings within,

Tugging them,

In directions only moments before unthought-of,

For they bequeath to me,

Through the soft caress of words,

And the subtle knowledge of touches, deft and daft,

Wild insight to the nature of human longing,

Two erstwhile lovers without love,


Both passionate souls refined in time,

Seeking that moment, that delicious second,


Nanosecond, time seemingly standing still,

For it is,

Where the spark of intention broadcasts plain,

The brain no longer holds the wheel, the mind captive and captivated,

And instead the heart and soul incite you to feel,

To truly sense,

Their songs a ripe intoxication,

Such is the beauty and wonder of time,

Such is the beauty and wonder of life,

Such is the beauty and wonder of these words,

As on my shoulder, Darling, I feel the imprint,

Of My Black Dog’s paws and

Of that spectacle that only true believers feel,

That quiet unknown that roars for consideration,


The sentiment of confused fire,

That without life IS somehow less,

But not today, not here, not now,

Not you,

As I feel the hand upon my shoulder,

Guiding these tender sentiments,

In a mind askew, distant in deliberations,


Ripe and abhorrent, torments,

Of love come and gone,

The subtle grasp that a heart feels when lost in romance,

In you,

Releasing the past while relishing the future,

Delivered in the present, and you are a present;


Serendipity revealing a wondrous accolade,

How do I clamor when I feel her blessed admissions,

Over time, she calls with premeditations understood,

Though not entirely clear,

For she speaks to the soul, beyond the minds recognition,

To my soul, beyond my comprehension,

Leashing in my hound,

Syncopating the hearts steady beat,

Jarring it into a body sensation that is without equal,

For her calling card,

Is here revealed,

For you,

For me,

For All;

For what are these words,

But the jewels in the crown,

Of this coronation,


Like Phoenician purple,

Trading sorrow for joy,

My Black Dog,




For real understanding,



Promise and surrender,

That never before now,

Could I know,

Could you?

For what are these words,

But the true expression,

Of a wandering soul,


Like a butterfly in a net,


Longing to be freed,

For you,

To you,

Knowing that it is only this expression,

Of what is known,

That releases me,

Back to the Ether,

Back to you,

Back to me!

Returning To…

Are you singing?


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The Me I Already Am

Slave to my own impediment,

I could not break free from myself,

I could not or would not see,

The delicate beauty that rest inside my baby blues,

Instead seeing the fiery damnation,

Of an overworked mind that knew not,

How to find inner piece, (intentional in search of that elusive sentence)

Until I let go,


This year, by far the hardest, of my thirty eight years,

Thirty eight years?

That never knew real joy,

Thirty eight years?

Those have seen ups and downs,

Been hit sideways more times than I care to admit,

Leaving me,



Unable to face myself in the mirror,

Or the mirror of myself,


My eyes,

Unleashing a terrible fright,

That even the voices in my head could not combat;

Bellicose Hemingway and intrepid Fitzgerald,

No Whiskey wisdom,

Nor Vodka insight,

Could release me from this personal hell,

That crippled my body,

Yet infuriated my mind to action,


You erroneous fool,

You must,

For no one else than you,

Can, nor will,

Starting with a heaping helping of forgiveness,


For things that I had no control over,

And that I cannot change,


Find personal redemption in a kiss,

A beautiful kiss,

Your kiss,

Finally arrived finding the ability,

This ability to love myself,

In ways I never thought possible,

And always just out of reach,

Avoiding at every turn,

What it meant to be me,

What it means to be me,

Wanting so desperately the love of others,

That I let go of me,

Wanting the deep satisfaction of emotions requited,


There was none behind that door,

Only a black dog that still beat me down,

Beat me,

Like a private and evasive whipping boy,


Though none can see,

Invisible scars,

A pickle that is beyond explanation,

For who could understand,

Certainly not you,


And yet here we are,

Understanding, or at least attempting to find,



I no longer require outside reinforcement of who or what I am,

For only I can explain that truth,

Only I can live the truth I have known since I was a child,

I must live it,

And finally,

I have started to corral this furious beast,


And constantly misguided,

Putting a leash on my black dog,

I am on the road,


Toward the me I already know I am…

Finding as I do,

That love,

Love always finds a way!



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Primordial Breakthrough




The first breakthrough,
At first,
Seemed more like a break,
From reality,
From the world,
From my love,
From these words,
The Ether delivering me devils and demons,
My sleep, skeletons and ghosts,
Of an imagined past and a deadly reality,
The nervous tension of my wounded pride,
Awoke the sleeping giant,
This giant,
Warrior Poet,
Though not yet a man,
I had to learn again how to wiggle, crawl, walk;

This was only the beginning of a wayfaring journey,
No destination detected our sought,
A journey, endless,
For as I started wiggling,
I felt the urge to crawl,
One I started crawling,
I was overcome by the desire to walk,
But after that,
Then what…

With invisible scars that none can operate on,
Save me,
Save me!

The second breakthrough,
Heart wrenching,
Soul piercing,
Shock and awe,
My system,
I was no longer able to walk, wiggle or crawl,
For I could not move,
I could not leave the couch,
Helpless yet helping myself,
Captured in the black hole of my mind,
There was no escape,
Dogs barking,
Depression, hallucinations, delusions,
Fearful creeping lightless thoughts;

My words my only salvation,
And even they seemed determined to fail me,
To destroy me,
Yet after that,
Then what…

The third breakthrough,
Gaining insight into my fractured psyche,
With the aid of therapy and pills,
Learning how to wiggle,
Oh, how uncomfortable it was,
Then longing to crawl,
It felt a little better but still uncertain,
Then panging to walk,
But only for a moment,
For now I am in the pursuit of running,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Left hemisphere,
Right hemisphere,
All at once the sum and the whole of my parts,
Fragmented though they may be,
But then what…

The fourth breakthrough,
My flaws are no better nor worse than your own,
My mental condition may or may not be better than yours,
Life is life,
And if I ever gave into the darker sides of me,
Those that ask me to do things that need not be done,
Should never be done…

So day after day,

As I journey to gain a few steps closer,
To the me that I have always been,
I realize,
My personal primordial fog lifted,
It is the simplest atoms in me that are askew,
It is the living chemistry of this troubled mind,
That though dark and dangerous,
Keeps me marching toward…

Another breakthrough,

That I may one day know,
I have survived and thrived,
Pressed on where others may have fallen,
Given into the dark urges,
The silent demons that you can’t hear,
But deafen those of us afflicted,
Given up on the pharmaceutical nightmare,
The zombie nature of my life,
Giving way, once more,
To self medication and an abiding dedication,

I have;

Gotten up when kicked,
And down when beckoned by my Black Dog,
That each day offers the opportunity of challenge,
That each challenge is the building block of opportunity,
And if ever,
However this breakthrough comes,
I wonder if it will finally be that unattainable,
As it would seem it has,
Though I search,
For that which escapes me; the,

Perfect sentence,
From this tormented oscillation,
Down and up,
Up and down,
Victim and victimizer,
Student and teacher,
Sage and village idiot,
I feel it coming,
I feel it,
All my life,
And there is nothing I can do;

I have been waiting,
All my life,
All my life,
To discover that I must press on,
All I can do is;

In wait!


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Conniving Imbalance

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,
This despite indefatigable efforts,
Has proven itself true,
At least for the realm of science,
Yet it would seem,
The same is true of our actions,
Despite the laws of science and nature,
The unintended consequences,
Or collateral damage,
Leading us down a path of social Darwinism,
Where the rules are as transient and varied,
As there are people on this earth,
Competing vision,
Diametrically opposed opposites,
Polar if you will, BiPolar,
Such that I consider what action caused my current affect.

I whole heartily believe it was an accident,
When I was thirteen,
My stubborn head,
Bouncing off the pavement of my exclusive boys school,
Parochial if I may,
Though there is no arnica that can fix my proverbial brain bruise,
To you,
The casual observer,
I may even seem normal,
(TRUST me, no one that knows me would call me normal)
The reasons evident for this are simple,
What ails me does not manifest for eyes to see,
Ears to hear,
Mouths to taste,
Noses to smell,
And your hand cannot touch what ails me,
What is invisible to you?

Invisible to all,
Is hell for me,
For what ails me is manageable,
Not curable,
At least not for now,
If fortunate,
And I have done so well,
These words may offer you insights into what I am going through,
Spitting toxic vitriol,
Free from inhibitions,
Allowing myself the luxury of pure and innocent truth,
That is dark and deviant within me,
These words are my truth,
They are the signposts for what it means to be me,
What it feels like to be me,
Why I have removed myself from city life,
And run for the country,
Where the air is fresh, the scenery is lush,
And for at least an hour each day I feel at peace.

Choosing my battles,
I bat away all suggestions,
By my psyche, ego or my id,
That I and I and I cannot reclaim my life,
Fighting though I must and do,
Transient voices,
Powerful hallucinations,
All of which I battle,
On my own,
Having played the pharmaceutical card,
Only to discover it made it hard,
Harder, for me to cope,
For I do not care for you to feel this pain,
I do not care for you to see what it does to me,
The ravages of mind, body and soul,
Seemingly my possessed intelligence,
Conniving with some force out there,
I call it the Ether, the Universe or Karma,
Having no faith in what others consider God,
Choosing instead to have faith in science,
Science that is neither precise nor understood,
Plodding around in my chemical imbalances,
Have faith in the answers I am given,
Though they are always prefaced with a,
“We don’t quite know how it works, but it does.”

Initially I hid behind a mask, a costume, a uniform and in the shadows,
No more,
I have decided that to stay the course,
Means to be brutal and frank in my honesty,
That not only you may appraise,
But so too can I,
These days of manic disaster,
Where I persevere.


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