Come out from Fantasia!

Come out! Come out! Come out from Fantasia!
And be done with your aphasia and soul aplasia;
Race toward truth and finally embrace reality!
Life is not a fairy tale, no one to bail you out . . .
See, your Prince Charming is only harming you
While you’re alarming yourself
Over pups ‘n cups and saucers!
And you whistle while you work
In thorns and thistles, do you?
And slaves used to sing to bring some comfort;
Do you really see any difference
If any real difference there be?
Come out! Come out from your fantasy land!
And band together with the warriors at hand
Who will attend you on your trek to honesty
And instruct you in the prosody of real reality
So you’ll finally be able to truly communicate
Without swallowing the bait of dwarfish lies
That fly from small children in men’s bodies!
Come out! Come out! Come out from Fantasia!
Come out! Come out and be free . . . at liberty!


Choose What is Really You

Three kegs of weak beer or one bottle of fine wine?
You may choose and lose either way,
But what will you have won in the choice you’ve made?
Artificial flowers forever bloom in the gloom of death,
But only the living ones have life but this means strife:
Which will you purchase?
What is forever worthless or that with timely purpose?
You can look at neon lights mesmerized
But compromised in beauty plagiarized
From moon and stars in their soft, bright ‘n warm light;
You can watch nature scenes on your glowing screen,
Or you can take pleasure in an adventure
Into the treasure of the genuine . . . up close ‘n personal!
Sham pearls make a conveniently nice vice,
But they only cover the beauty to discover inside of you;
So what will you choose?
Whatever it is, there is always something to lose, but . . .
What will you have gained in the choice you’ve made?
Give voice now to reason and choose what is true . . .
Choose what is really you!

On the Edge of Reality

Like night and day, no one can say which way you’ll turn;
To the right or left, jump in the light or run into the night,
Who knows where you’ll show yourself next and when,
And then how high will you fly? Or will ya crash and burn
At the very next turn as you churn inside and never learn?
You show an immense proclivity to levity and flippancy
With no dependency on discernment or shrewd selectivity
In the gravity of genuine life lived with some perspicacity;
You’re rather like the wind that sweeps round every bend,
Sending the debris of people tumbling this way and that
At your appearance through the day without adherence
To respectability, propriety or any suitability to decency;
Like dark and light twirling and swirling in the one vortex
Of your soul, no one knows whether you’ll shine or recline
In the shadows where you’ll pine for love too high to grasp
As you gasp for the fair air of purity in some serenity of life,
But you’re prancing along in fantasy,
Dancing on the very edge of reality…
On the edge of reality

Note: First published August 2016

What Makes That What? Do You Know?

Do you still see a tree stripped bare of all its branches,
Or has it now been shrunk to a no more than a trunk?
Beg to tell, is a chair still a chair with only a pair of legs,
Or, perhaps, with four legs but what if it lacks a back?
Is a house still a house with four tall walls but no roof?
Or are two walls and roof proof enough to be a house?
Is an automobile still an automobile if it has no wheels?
Pray tell, if it has no engine either is it merely a shell?
And how much can you take away from a person until
She no longer fits the bill of being person?
Then, do tell, what are you seeing in her?
Is the heart the part that makes one human?
Or would we deign to say it is the brain?
But hearts and brains are parts in a long train of beings!
Do mind, body and soul bind together to make a person?
But how much of each is needed to reach a full person?
Ah! Do you see what you really see
When you look into the book of life?
What, indeed, do you see when you look at you and me?
Perhaps you only perceive what your senses receive . . .
Or do you really know in this grand show of mystery?

Just Around the Bend

What a strange place to be, so estranged from reality,
Medicated beyond lucidity into the realm of absurdity,
Where what exists is rearranged in an ailing exchange
Of truth for fantasy in the horrid travesty of the vanity
Of doctors trying to cure what had been plainly pure;
But, then, it was the trick of your feigning to be sick,
And now comes the kick of being forever the addict;
What about now, though? Does clear truth still glow
Below the surface of your nerve-wracked existence
In persistent insistence that this is not genuine living
But only false pretense in defense of silly escapism?
What a strange place to be, truly, in deranged reality
That is not reality at all but a fall into a bad nightmare,
But you don’t know that yet, do you? Still, it is so true!
Pills may blind you to bills and gain relief from pain,
But life still goes on to the end . . . just around the bend,
Just around the bend!

What Do You See In Me?

And what do you see when you look at me?
Do you see a broken man, token of sorrow?
Perhaps an ill-spoken man, even madman,
Less than normal, and certainly not formal;
Or do you see a lifespan of broken dreams,
Streams of failure following bad behavior?
Just what do you see when you look at me?
If you look closer you may see a composer
Of greatest composure with a heart of art,
Who weaves together the broken dreams
Into one grand gleaming, numinous theme
For pleasure and even treasure for others;
If you look closer you may see a musician
With an ambition to audition his rendition
Of life in beauty in duty to love and charity
With symphonic clarity ‘n angels for choir;
But what do you require in a man, in me?
To be all you imagine your love should be?
But life is not perfect and this I do reflect,
Yet this man is not so sullied that he ought
To be buried as an hopeless case so base,
As some creature of night, a human blight;
And if you can but clear your sight
Then you will see this man is right;
But then again, this is your plight:
The fright of choosing to see what will be;
Ah! And what I will be to you we shall see!

Behind the Mask

They think you have nerves of steel and such verve,
But if only they could peel away the mighty mask,
Then they might well ask who you really are with all
Of your scars, those holes in your heart, and shoals
Of insecurity found in your soul, and myriad bowls
Of uncertainty overflowing in your mysterious mind;
Yes, they might wonder how you bind it all together
Into one stalwart lady of high fashion and passion?
Ah! Behind the mask lies a world of hurled emotions,
Curled memories, stains of regret and untold pain,
Yet you walk with such confidence, no diffidence,
Almost in defiance of your purgatorial existence!
But then again your mask as such is just as much
Of you as the light is of the day and dark of the night;
You yourself crafted your mask to be the ‘real’ you
That you show all those who would know you . . .
So perhaps the mask is as much you as the you
Behind the mask!

Just Pretend It’s Love?

How is it someone stumbles into our lives
And bumbles us into love when deep inside
We know it’s all wrong, this relationship
Is long on dreams that don’t belong to us?
And why is it we ignore proof of the truth
That friends and family beg us to realize
And not trivialize? They can see the tree
Is so gnarled and poisoned, and so can we,
So why is it we continue on with such glee
As if the tree were so magnificent with no
Deficit, and even sibilate when confronted
With the truth? Oh, how is it we get caught
In a web of deception without any reception
Of real love, and then try to beguile others
With our smile, pretending that everything
Is grand and dandy, when inside we’ve lost
Our heart and the better part of that life
We used to live? And why do we try so hard
To make that stumbling, bumbling someone
Into an altogether other and better someone
More acceptable and respectable when they
Are really quite despicable? Is it to save face
When in reality we could bow out with grace?
Ah! Ah! Tell me how it is someone stumbles
Into our lives and then bumbles us into love
When all along we know inside it’s wrong?
How and why this travesty of insane pain!

Chasing High Shadows

You spy me chasing high shadows in a grand land of mirage,
And what am I after, after all? Joy and laughter, perhaps?
Running down the alleyway to the bay, the ghostly ship
Has sailed away, but I cannot stay in one place; the chase
Must continue up and down each venue, desperation running
Through every sinew of my being, so then without seeing
I keep the mad pace of my chase of intangible phantoms
In this misty kingdom of insanity and high-vaulted vanity
All to avoid facing the morbidity of real reality…
But there you are, great Lion Lord, shaking your mane
In wonder of just how insane it is to chase shadow faces
In such dangerous places, but such is the case of the fool
Who, for all of his running and plunging, must one day
Embrace his mortality in reality anyway!