Written for a talented colleague and friend in the writing community, Anais Chartseacoast
HERE IS A DOOR WITHOUT A KEY THAT OPENS UP BEFORE A SEA
inside the mind, those corridors,
walked by mystics, madmen, raving in iambic pentameter
while our heroes shoot themselves we line up and take it well
Emulate the march into the marsh and hope we escape hell;
We walk into the fire and we worry of the flame,
We burn away our future and we curse the family name;
WE curse the chaos and the cause, the consequence and LAw
enacted by the greatest fucking sadist of them all.
It might be easy for another man to try and leave
The poetry and consciousness to be studied free
but there’s obsession and possession that do overcome
And some who are possessed do not want to be done.
There is a devil on both shoulders, and they have conspired
To lead me to the well to cure me of impure desire;
But each devil has a different gaffe, each a riddle of their own,
And each would betray the other for one moment alone,
But if they knew the painful truth, that each is well alone
We are single drops of a rainstorms crop that never blows away
A ring of smoke passed through a door
out the other to dissolve
Whence not knowing wither not going
get nothing and but want all.
Is it too much to ask, that a life once give at least must last?
What kind of sadist would just make us and push us off the bridge
As we walk along a blade that divides the pure from sin.
And on the other side there is a blindman and a guide
And we must pay the toll
To walk the long walk home is a walk we walk alone
And conscience is the tomb that comes
that is our very own