Cavernous

I do not believe !, nor do I want to believe

that the delineations you paint upon the canvass’

of our, oh so brief time upon this plane together

represents the true you, the real you, the spiritual soul of you.
 

I wanted, so much for you to stand by me,

so much for you – upon this earth – to stand with me,

to walk with me upon the raging waters of this sea,

this life of ours, to be with me in calming these waters

these storms, storms drowning emotions, feelings, desires,

sending them into the depths, into Davie Jones’s locker.

Down, down, down to the bottom – of our hearts, our souls.

 

Me - my spirit has slipped into the mouth of this great Cave,

the caves within – deep, dark, dangerous, opened mouth –

where a Carcharondon Carchanis, an Orcinus Orca, awaits,

it’s stalactites downward force, piercing the upper regions

of my heart, causing great geysers of blood to fly,

it’s stalagmite stilettos, thrusting upwards

into the lower, nether regions of my bleeding heart,

piercing every fiber, every beat that vibrates to the songs

that love’s composers lay at the feet of us hopeless romantics,

songs that have become deafeningly silent to these old ears

and the light of their sounds, penetrates not these old eyes

as life’s blood, drips in vain, like tear drops through a vein’s

 aneurism – the wounds inflicted by these predators,

wounds ripped into the living flesh of a stilled, beating heart

as it tries to navigate a coarse between Black Shadows,

between the teeth  ( stalagmites, stalactites ) of this Cavern,

I have chosen to explore – once more -  for Life’s, sake.

 

The deeper I travelled into the interior of this Cave,

The more I realized, my feeling became even more grave.

The question became, how do I avoid the sting, the bite, stave

off the inevitable, – never to love / be loved – to the grave

with all I shared, all I desired, all that I gave !

 

From the mists of uncertainty, from the fogs of doubts

 come numerous ( hundreds ?, ) pages of enlightenment

 ( for the blind and the blinded ) that project, that question,

that are, even,  living statements.

 B. J. “A” 2

January 30^th 2009