The voices inside my thoughts are on vacation-
They are on a sabbatical from the hurried pulse
Pounding on the sequestered sidewalks of my approaching oblivion
The machines of my restless intentions
Have seized from the lack of lubricated instructions
And have harvested their seeds upon unfertile ground
And have wished themselves into a paddock of useless reasoning
And have misplaced the will
To express a vision of purpose and objective
It’s silent around here right now
The offspring of my motives have gone to sleep
And dream only of foreign lands
Where the faces are creepy and the surroundings are cheap
And all that matters is nothing
And all that surfaces is some symbolic sanctuary
Where the darkened hallways lead to the center of hushed beliefs
Or rather to the heart of some distant body within me
Trying to remember how to arrange its limbs
It’s still around here right now
The kings and queens have all been beheaded
The soldiers lay scattered upon bloody fields
The horses have deserted their masters
And all I can see is the fire upon the hilltops of my transgressions
Burning like a inverted teardrop upon the sands of time
It’s strange around here right now
No one can feel my mind's detached vertebra
Trying to rejoin itself among the living
Yes, the living
Somewhere where my breath will cease to live
The growth process can seem like desolation at times, Jude. Our brain cells do need time and space for "maintenance work."
Perhaps its time to commune with Nature--that trusty well-spring of inspiration?
Another finely expressed write.
Peace,
Carolyn
Jude, you never cease to amaze me. Sometimes when I read your poems I feel like I am looking inside my head. Or are you looking inside my head? Maybe a little synchronicity. ~ Sara
Jude, this has proved beyond doubt that even when the thought process becomes detached, when it searches for a way back it can lead to some exceptional work. The symbology and metaphor within are top-notch.
Paul;-)
Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)
Reviewed on January 17, 2006
Sometimes we go into this state while creating a new way of thoughts that often surprise us. Sure is a strange spot itsn't it?
Well, I have to review this where I'm at, don't I? It's a beautiful soliloquy into the mind of the dying man, for me at this moment of time, Jude. I love the progression - from the quiet to the silent to the still to the strange... can so relate, even as a confused bystander. And the imagery of each phase is like an appropriated life flashback. What REALLY jiggled all me synapses was "the heart of some distant body within me Trying to remember how to arrange its limbs"; in the light of my own thoughts, this brought me back to my little pet lamb in my arms, and to the foetal associations with mothering and nurture: I guess, like centrifugal belief systems we evolve our lives around, ultimately nurture and sanctuary are what we're all after, one way or another. Loved the battlefield scenario, like being locked in life/death... and the final couplet, well, reckon in my "tidy" mind, I might have been tempted to bring closure with the sense that The End had come: "Somewhere where my breath HAS CEASED to live". What can I say? A very personal interpretation of a write that is wide open, and as expansive as it is concentrated. Thank you for this. LOL Kate xx
To me, this read like the thoughts of a Warrior, sitting on a battlefield after the toils of war have finished, contemplating the moment, and the meaning of life.
I agree with Sherry below completely
You stand like a general surveying the burnt out lands and scrub of your former haunts and glories, now on the threshold of new enterprizes and endeavours, equipped fully with the twin assets of experience and endurance
Great write Jude !
Peter
It's haunting to stroll the ruin that is your own creative universe. I experience that dread scene to my mind's scape all too often. Well captured and expertly navigated.
'Burning like a inverted teardrop upon the sands of time '
this excellent line is the best way to describe this poem...it's true.... breaths cease to live but new ones begin ,if not in us, then in others.We all try to rejoin to the living at times and your poem so well describes that time when we are not quite there,the desperation of that place,many top lines in this haunting ,deep ,write.
Best wishes always
and
a big hug too
from
kay.
The offspring of my motives have gone to sleep
And dream only of foreign lands
Where the faces are creepy and the surroundings are cheap...
This one gave me goosebumps. Wow. Amazing pen, as always. Michelle
Reviewed by Only A Poet (Reader)
Reviewed on January 17, 2006
wonderful pen you have Sir.
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on January 17, 2006
"And all that matters is nothing
And all that surfaces is some symbolic sanctuary
Where the darkened hallways lead to the center of hushed beliefs "
So very powerful this one is to the reader.
You must be somehow peeking into my life, Robert! You write my state of being so... so.... I want to say "profoundly", but it's not enough. There is not one line, or one word of this, that can live without the rest of it. A true masterpiece...... Thank you for sharing...
A poetic rebel brandishing a gladiator shield and the last recognizable lexicon of the world. Guarding freedom and encouraging cultural revival on a pilgrimage through the burned out hills, fleeing to escape servitude where you have been imprisoned. Hell, this place can't grow enough to feed a poet. A poet must be a survivor and walk the rich land lying on the other side of the oil pipeline. The poet must have continued faith in alternative healing, ritual customs like nudity, beer drinking, and female-female wrestling.
"The kings and queens have all been beheaded
The soldiers lay scattered upon bloody fields
The horses have deserted their masters"
It seems that you have reached the end of a cycle and are in a position of resting, evaluating all that has occurred and the affect that you have had upon it all. Once the silence stops, you will be catapulted into another cycle of events and all that you have learned here will solidify and bring sense and order to where you go. This is a time when we need to move forward and search for new stimuli as we continue traveling our pathway through this lifetime. Wonderful write, Robert, thought provoking images take the reader on the excitement of the climbs and the terrifying thrills of the downward drops on the roller coaster of life.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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Perhaps its time to commune with Nature--that trusty well-spring of inspiration?
Another finely expressed write.
Peace,
Carolyn
Ron
Paul;-)
You stand like a general surveying the burnt out lands and scrub of your former haunts and glories, now on the threshold of new enterprizes and endeavours, equipped fully with the twin assets of experience and endurance
Great write Jude !
Peter
It's haunting to stroll the ruin that is your own creative universe. I experience that dread scene to my mind's scape all too often. Well captured and expertly navigated.
Peace and renewal,
B
this excellent line is the best way to describe this poem...it's true.... breaths cease to live but new ones begin ,if not in us, then in others.We all try to rejoin to the living at times and your poem so well describes that time when we are not quite there,the desperation of that place,many top lines in this haunting ,deep ,write.
Best wishes always
and
a big hug too
from
kay.
And dream only of foreign lands
Where the faces are creepy and the surroundings are cheap...
This one gave me goosebumps. Wow. Amazing pen, as always. Michelle
And all that surfaces is some symbolic sanctuary
Where the darkened hallways lead to the center of hushed beliefs "
So very powerful this one is to the reader.
seems here...great line The horses have deserted their masters
saludos
Lucky Star Sandie May Angel :o)
In Spirit,
Bear
"The kings and queens have all been beheaded
The soldiers lay scattered upon bloody fields
The horses have deserted their masters"
Hold on to that prized lexicon, Jude.
Sage
Take care,
Sherry
Excellent breathless offering!!
$*;*$
Love Tinka
I think Ed thinks you should stay off the garlic..
just kidding...
My wife does a lot of hush believing...