wonderfully surreal write, jude... metaphysical growing pains can leave impressive "exit wounds" but oh how they sharpen the "vision."
always a pleasure to lock your creative genius in one's crosshairs...
warmest regards,
carolyn

From the void of the abiss's brink..
Excellent Jude.

Lady Mary Ann

Sublimation is one form of release that is satisfying and can be shared. We are lucky to have words, lucky to have art. I like the many facets of your metaphor in this poem.

Axilea

where lies the exit of all the passion stored within the human soul? - jude, the release can undoubtedly come before, "the final sigh", setting our sights on the proper target is the challenge - passion, love, fear, hatred, doubt and joy all live within the same human circumstance - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael

Oh, I dunno, Kartero; I think you'd probably feel much more released and comfortable within your own skin if you let all this internalised passion escape before that "final rhythm". It's funny how paroxysms of both pain and passion can look and sound so similar, with the entry points so small (and oft-times unseen) and the escape routes often so messy and visible. Just shows how the power of these things is not easy to control, and attempts to do so can be implosive until explosive. Aiming and shooting at your own shadow may seem as if to miss its mark and even return onto yourself, but the truth is you both bear the same scar. Anyways, love the energy of that barrel blast and all-contented final sigh at the wonder of its consummation. May it come sooner rather than later. I had just been pondering my costume for an Emergency Services fancy dress party when you posted this poem! Ssssschlooooooop-Snap... that's the sound of me getting my surgical gloves on to have a bit of a dig around...! :)) xx

JUDE ...

AFTER READING, FINAL WORD IN MY MIND WAS ... 'DEATH' ...

TRIED TO USE THOSE LETTERS TO FIND AN ANAGRAM ...

ONLY THING I CAME UP WITH WAS 'THEDA' ... A FEMALE NAME ...

AS IN, AN EARLY 'SEX' SYMBOL SILENT FILM ACTRESS ... THEDA BARA ...

I CAN WELL UNDERSTAND THE 'WOUND' OF THE EXIT...NEVER HAVING AN IDEA OR DREAM REALIZED HAS TO BE PAINFUL WHEN WE FINALLY, AT THE END OF LIFE...MUST LET IT GO. AN AWESOME WORK, JUDE...DONE WELL. THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS

Now I can exhale. I think I finally understood this one. Of all the slings and arrows that the flesh is heir to, it's the last one that blows a hole in our life. Psychologically surreal.

Ron

I believe I've just been spattered. Patrick

nice...

Riveting poem, your words ran thru my veins~

a soul searching release,
excellently delivered, Jude,
focused, muscular writing

john

Relating a passion for the healing
*jude*
that you are so very good at!!!!

Lady Vivian

Such a profound poem and statement of how life affects the soul.

Pierre

Nice to know that when I can come here I can read poetry like this, straight shooter...enjoyed

Good solid work that delves into the physche of man's darker thoughts.
fee

Hi Jude, you write with such deep symbolism... so much that I can taste it. :)) Oh the wonder... thank you, Jude!

In Spirit,
Bear

Honing in on our goal becomes sharper and sharper as we move forward in life. Death becomes nothing more than a transition from one plane to another and the point at which our focus will be freed and become all that we imagined.
Take care,
Sherry

Since the bullet missed me the last time, I decided I won't let it get close ever again....e

may you know your target idea's freedom

Hey Jude,
First it's really good to read your work once again. Somehow, this poem really sends a ricocheting flood of emotions right through me.
Metaphorically speaking, we are all on this same path. We all ponder these same thoughts, recklessly we waste our lives with all minor details of unimportance. Living in the moment is my mantra, whether that moment is contemplative, compassionate, illogical, quiet or vivacious, it is our life. Exit Wound, illuminates and motivates my synapses!!!

Another good piece of poetry from the Master.

Peace, light, and love,
Amber

velocity of reality...brass hollow point is in no way a moot point...alchemical firing of the synapses...palming nickel finish packing heat my bronx warrior...

s

Crossfirey, backfirey, misfirely implosive. I can smell the black powder. ~~ DIana

This could be read on so many different levels which helps the reader to enjoy it in their own unique way. Thank you for this sharing.

Yes. I completely relate and like this serious monologue of what we all, especially when we begin to age somewhat, think about but hardly ever bring up for discussion. Except poets. Death is a target for poets.

This is a memorable poem, and one I shall keep and revisit.