Inflate me if you must

 

You praise me, you inflate me, you build me up to be

the kind of person, the kind of man I do not see.

I feel that somewhere ?, within life’s shadow,

between the shades of no man’s land, hollow

are the places my soul and I seem to know.

 

I have travelled in the fast lane.

I have flew, with a few of the elite.

I have walked in sun, in clouds and in pain.

I have given nothing, accomplished no feat.

Like so many of us nowhere men can tell you,

- it’s in our dreams - and our nightmares too.

It’s behind the veiled, distorted, mystic wisdom,

from whence all true light must come.

 Impotency

Oh !, to be the life in a good morning son rise,

to carry on through, with passion, until noon on high.

Oh !, to know the glory of a sunset clim.

To reach the dreams of one who tried to achieve

the satisfaction of, but was not to be .

 

Melanie. Lee. Atfield.

I see you – many times – slither up into your dungeon,

wearing it, like it was a suite of armor protecting you from life,

from the outside world, from the reality you are living.

You hide from the world outside – so you think –

your pain, your fears, you hide them behind shields,

you hide them behind elaborate masks.

Linda. Blair.

I watch you build me up to be

the kind of man I could never see.

I feel, somewhere within the shadows,

in between the shades of no man’s land

is the place I and my soul can find to stand.

I have travelled, with some, in the fast lane,

flew with a few who thought they be elite.

I have walked with men, / women who are plain.

With either, I have accomplished no great feat,

as so many, lost, nowhere  man can tell you

by his dreams of , and in his nightmares,

veiled wisdom lost to the conscious mind.

 B. J. “A” 2

May 10^th 2002