But You Were Never There

Somehow, I found a trace of you
inside the entrance that protected you.

Through remnants, I walked in to find
unwritten letters, anger and emptiness

Layered strongly, is the scent of your habitation
yet I can only smell my own intrusion.

I wanted desperately to place you in my
garden of rainbow fantasies, amid bits of sky

Maybe oft times to speak in whispered vowels

But you were never there............

Where Will You End Up?

Who has stopped briefly on a winter's hill?
Without a future or a past you stand there
in the moment; bare before
yourself……….

You wear a thought that no one sees…
The moon walks across the dark night sky.
You walk across inner moments
of yesterday,today and tomorrow..
Where will you end up…………….

Seashells In Sand

My mind isn’t buried like seashells in sand
Ink spots of reflection become my pen in hand
A glimmer of light becomes my only command
A taste of life becomes my only stand

Truth

Followed closely on the heels of dishonesty, you will find truth making its way
toward the door of home; and there is where it should be most comfortable.

Regarding Tidbits of Information

In an opening statement regarding Tidbits of Information, I would like to clarify that I am writing of things that were not known to man years ago; as a result, people were mislabeled. I spoke with a psychiatrist this week in regards to these issues, and she readily relayed to me that so many things were mislabeled or misdiagnosed because of the lack of knowledge. Thank goodness we have advanced by leaps and bounds since the earlier days.

Tidbits of Information

Since working in areas dealing with mental health, I have read several pieces of literature regarding mental illness; articles that left me with questions.

Over the years, when man began his documentation of things he learned, a voluminous amount of things were written. In college lectures and medical seminars we can find these things as part of the discussion.
Some of the professions discussed are novelists, poets, artists, and musicians; yes, there are other professions to discuss, but in mental health these are big subjects. Various lectures are open for individual opinions. Students are assigned poems to read, and then they must determine what the poet is actually saying.
Great poets, novelists, and artist are often picked apart. I am not sure this collaborative effort can do justice to the well known greats of yesteryear.
The saddest thoughts about the discussion are that the people being discussed have long ago passed away and can’t defend their own actions. They are judged by a group of men or women, labeled insane, and forever branded that way; and so it goes.
Some notables did some really unorthodox things. For instance, Salvador Dali delivered a course of lectures at the Sorbonne, in Paris, in the 1920s. He had his foot in a pail of goat’s milk. He was an eccentric artist and was quite sane (from all of my readings it seems so) but dubbed as having a predisposition to madness. I am sure being sane, he had his own valid reasons for doing this. But now, because of the opinions of others, we think of him as being predisposed to madness.
Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver’s Travels is another example. Often times, throughout the annals of history, he has been labeled as being quite mad, but it was later discovered that he had a very painful problem with an ear issue. The treatments for medical issues back in that era were far different. Death rates were high due to lack of medical knowledge.
So, who can say that all of the notables were really mad or maybe they were medically challenged, leaving them to do strange things?
-To be continued-

BARREN

Barren are the carpeted slopes on a faraway hill
Where reality and reflections were once surreal
The song of your stillness blows across the field
In a rehearsal of emptiness; now nothing is real

~~~~~~~~~~~*

Children lost in play amid the mounds of green
Spindled cribs of white; a simplistic kind of scene
A hollow by the pond; you and mom were seen
Listen to the lullaby; it’s peaceful and serene

~~~~~~~~~~~*

It’s almost time to go now; there’s nothing left to do
Everyone is leaving; the sun is even blue
I came here once more to hum a song for you
It’s only been a while; it seems a day or two
I miss you
Daddy

December 1, 2010