fading mirage

fading mirage

             by harlon rivers


stale promises beheld lightly
conjecture blowin’ in the wind
unsated expectations dwindling
self-fulfilled prophesy indelibly unveiled

eroding possibilities foreshadow
preemptive notions stigmatized
trying to make sense
out of burgeoning darkness ,
closer to the light

tis’ better to behold
a thickly clouded sky
than descry a shining light
insensible to feel
its penetrating touch into darkness ,
weary of chasing a fading mirage

though passing time
may assuage great expectations ,
not all that glitters is a fool’s gold
it’s not only in my mind ,
all these long and twisting roads
not all diamonds in the rough
yield a languished shine

you live and it hurts you ;
you give up you die ...
it took along time
to get here still standing ,

now "I’m just becoming

comfortably numb" ...


Everything in life you think you've figured out , just reveals another path to another set of questions
"destigmatize mental illness ... kindness matters"

"comfortably numb" is part of a lyric line from a song by that name;
written by: WATERS,ROGER/GILMOUR, DAVID JON

a black swan of loneliness

In the fog

of stifled understanding ,

holding on by a frayed thread

to all these useless dreams 

of living alone ...



waiting in the wings

 
for the turn of the tide ;

keeping one foot

in different worlds

while traveling

somewhere else

in my mind

crossing many rivers

trying to reach out 

and grasp another

perpetually eroding 

shoreline ...



though I weary be ,

sometimes silence

is the sound

of loneliness ;

sometimes loneliness

has no sound at all

in the pensive hush

of lowliness ,

a benumbing ache

reverberates

the ruptured stillness ..,

the hovering dark clouds

masking 

a black swan of loneliness



a silent throbbing

echoes like thunder ,

immerging unto

the unplanned

solitary throes ,

with the sleight of hand

a gravitational collapse



an enslaving

desolate hollowness

plunging into

a nebulous black whole

bathing in the rays 

of darkness ...


where the stars

hide by daylight

shrouding a forgotten sole

immersed in

an ocean of emptiness



harlon rivers © December 5th , 2014



“I was never really insane except upon
    occasions when my heart was touched.”

    ― Edgar Allan Poe

note: 
          " all these useless dreams of living alone,
             like a dogless bone "

attribution :
             a lyric from Damien Rice's song
                  Colour me in
             " my favourite faded fantasy "




additional postscript:

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The black swan theory or theory of black swan events is a metaphor that describes an event that comes as a surprise, has a major effect, and is often inappropriately rationalized after the fact with the benefit of hindsight...

Stormy Seas ... a poem by Harlon Rivers

Stormy Seas ... a poem by Harlon Rivers

A storm is raging on the frothy sea

Mountainous waves toss the vessel to and fro

The ravaging Nor'easter impales with a deafening blow

Raucous salty sheets of spray soak and dampen all around

A bucket bails the raged sloop 

She moans and groans as she’s flung about

A sailor sails ; a sailor relentlessly bails

Alone in the perfect storm

Two oars are manned on the stormy seas

The halyard torn and ripped from mast

To row and bail is an impossible feat

It’s hard to tell when you’ve sprung a fateful leak

The captain mans the forlorn skiff

Traditions sink down with the ship

His furious soul laments life’s toil

As violent waves crash the gunnels hold

He screamed out loud, “My time has come!”

“My ship is sinking, her broken pieces will not be found!”

The rampart boat, well-fortified yet built to fail

Plummets from hills of water pitifully tall

Cracks are leaking where the lurid light gets in

But so does the salty water, will drowning soon begin?

Lost hope floats the helpless, fearless one man crew

His soul now guides his ship

A vessel drifts lifeless on the empty calming sea

Nothing but it can be seen for miles of skies

The free board is deep the briny water high

Two apathetic oars both silent, is a lost soul inside?

© November, 2011... Harlon Rivers 

   A three year full circle... revisited
         … melancholy déjà vu

the slow death of a poet

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat ,
gasping for new breath
hovering in a stale misbegotten silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance , 

impossible to  discern what storms rage 

from the inside out

the uncontained wildfire smoldering within
lies in wait for the winds of change
to fan the flames into the final ashes

a poet reaches out demurely

offering a candid glance

into the window of the human soul

there is no poetry

met by indifference

just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time drips slowly on the page
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out like seeping blood
evanescing from a bottomless puncture wound 

penetrating the heart
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for Poetry is only words 
unless they touch someone ...
befallen to indifference 
is poetic death by salted paper cuts ...
a muting suffocation that wears away, 
silencing the passion of a musing soul ...

one unread word at a time 


© harlon rivers ...October 10, 2014

After the flood

photo by Alex Howitt

After the flood

An emotional flash flood
leveled a demure life’s terrain unrecognizable
as vast shoreless oceans course
void of reposing lapping island sands

 
oh there had been stifling
breathtaking reign before,
deluge washed out burning bridges

understanding iced veins pulsing
like flowing glacial fields
carving morphology
leaving emotive writs strewn
like ancient hieroglyphic's
homage paid to the catastrophic
floods of yore

latter days came cleansing rain
as gentle as fragile hope
often swept away
exposing abandoned traces ;
after the rain it becomes apparent
it’s the little things that erode away the soul

lasting hieroglyphic scars leave vestige
a lonely heartache‘s indelible dominion
detailed surface contour ,
breaks and stains ,
invisible hints ,
memories only in the eyes of the beholder

as flood waters subside
massive erosion had cut through
remnants of restless regret
benumbed by near drowning
receding symmetry
eroding into a meager incarnation
of what once was

after the flood
leaving a heart
of channeled scablands
earthen essence dispersed
like dust in the wind
down wind
a barren unrecognizable reclamation

harlon river © September 2014 ...all rights reserved

The Inertia of Spinning Eddies

The Inertia of Spinning Eddies

There is a world

some know intimately

A world where

you’re never enough

A world that casts aside

misunderstood imperfections

like stigmas' ashes ,

burnt traces

in lonely mirrors

left behind

Behold the fate of a leper

never belonging ,

alone all along ,

yet spirits too strong

to be spun undone

Turning and turning
around and around
circling and circling
redundantly spinning on
a world of spin
whirling right on by
wound in the heart
tear in the eye

Each and all wild waters
temporarily restrained
by swirling rip tides pull
sooner or later
there comes a time
all untamed currents
do ebb and flow

Claps a warring
wave of grief
upon the shoreline
so powerful it deflates
all breath
succumbing
to a wearying wave
pangs the reality
     of the pending void . . .



© harlon rivers
August 16th, 2014