I will miss you bleakest of winters when thus has ended your day. Can you not be here past, present and in perpetuum, forever and always to stay?

You came to me in a dream; little has changed between what I saw and what I see; perennial resplendent beauty Queen, yet I recoil at the sight of she for the fright grips me remembering the nights of we, so forever shall the spite be? Your voice dredges through my soul, awakening memories drowned by the undertow and buried below so they may no longer be known to the conscious that continues to grow; aware is the heart of the laceration of the love, the consternation from thy glove as it grabs the throat of the peaceful – capsizes the boat of the meaningful and violently drowns us in the moat of all the crying sorrowful people.

You can talk to me. A kiss on the cheek. A loving retort?
You cannot see. You are fucking weak. Anger is the only resort.

And it’s that same loneliness that crushes the heart, shatters the will; for sex I’d die but for love I’d kill. Why? Forget me not, don’t undo the knot, our initials still carved below the big knot so forever alive and imprisoned are the screaming memories of love’s blood blots from when my emotions were shot – so many speckled red dots, I wish it didn’t clot, I wanted to die from the loss, please bleed out heart and pay the cost for all the times spent nailed to love’s cross.

If you are listening to me, dear God, send that sacrificial lamb; if you’re in fact just an unbiased spirit, at least send me the best you can.

Tony Blauvelt 08/18/2013

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Swim towards knowledge, fight for the truth,

let love overcome the undertow – know it is only you that you must know…

They roll out the carpet of the red and welcome myself.

He’s a reluctant man of the kind and generous type,

but in this world they have stored him on a shelf, collecting dust,

hearts caked in rust, unwilling to deliver the will or must to discern the un from the just.

But I like myself. Maybe evolution weeded out his kind but I find that I

(like myself) joined with me and we fought to create a love inside that has never died.

Darwin eliminates what’s weak, what’s unnecessary or meek

in nature and our anatomy and physique;

we no longer need tails as evidenced by the bone,

so why is it that hate and selfishness are still shown?

With our natural ability to resist sin we’ve signed a truce;

one can both scientifically and logically deduce that people

must crave hate and selfishness as much as they reproduce.

It is a science of natural selection – respect has reduced,

disdain has always produced, and by our own behavior has it perennially been conduced.


Perhaps Darwin’s ‘strong’ is synonymous with the wickedness we have unveiled

and evil that has prevailed and his ‘weak’ might be the empathy that’s agonizingly wailed

as the efforts of kindness have failed and selflessness is all but derailed.

Why have we emotions so seemingly useless while a purported need for greed

will always feed and proceed to concede by selfish deed planting a seed of hate in you

and me for all to become and be, you see: goodness has a fee – love is expensive; hate is free.


I yearn to be different, I hunger for the iconoclastic tendency,

I want my thoughts dictated by nobody, but I, myself and me.

 

Don’t think don’t discern don’t try to become what they want to see,

let go of the expectation and float and just be;

you can’t say autonomy without “auto” and “me”

so put instinct first and be what you would not because you can but because you should;

it matters not what makes a temporary high, pointless is it to grab that which is too easy

and nigh, so to others’ wants bid ‘goodbye’ and to your inner beauty be not shy

for you will not for any kind of happiness strive, unless it is approved by me, myself and I.  

Swim towards knowledge, fight for the truth,

believe nothing but the intuition of I, me and myself.

“Temet nosce” – never stop striving to know thyself.

 

Tony Blauvelt 07/08/2013

“Metamorphabyss”

There was a night of recent in which I decided to put literary crosshairs on the enemy, for I had grown weary of incessantly being victimized by his persistent insistence that I keep my progress and wishes at a distance.

He knows not what I want better than myself; without knowledge of what from my consciousness he must hide, he lacks a certain focus and austerity to his plan to be the thorn in success’ side. This, however, doesn’t mean he won’t try; it stops not his efforts to thwart any attempt to find that success; when I look past the blankets of clouds, he layers the sky with other obstructive shrouds; if I stare into the night, he blinds my ambition with a scintillating light.

I study ancient holy sculptures and arches; we suddenly find these arts under construction. They are covered with signs reading “open in three months”, with the enemy knowing full well I may suddenly give up at once.

I vaguely see he the enemy; I don’t think it can be, but he looks eerily like me (this is just what I see). I touch the glass and study his face; his ambivalence turns evil at an unsettling pace. And in his dimension, he too traces the glass and scrutinizes my expression; not at all inaccurate is his impression that I am an anomaly, an exception, I have made a secession from the rest of the worlds’ transgressions because of their inane obsession with material possession and pointless digression that comes from vanity and technology’s progression and the soul’s recession in our world of perpetual aggression with a lack of discretion because of patience and love’s compression under the malignant heel of oppression from those in the decider professions. The enemy looks in my eyes and knows depression’s procession, the repercussion of love and truth’s repressions. No longer a need for verbal confession. Into one another we stare. Silence exchanged. We have nothing left to share. 

Tony Blauvelt 06/14/2013

An author’s amounting, all abounding anecdotes of lamenting self-pity; is not our world misconstrued when the fairer sex is untrue and a hurt man is deservedly pedantic based on the aggrieved miles walked as the hopeless romantic? Enlighten me, expel the unwell, bid farewell to that on which I dwell, and on behalf of the heart and passion’s spell, I beg, do tell…

Where exists my angel? You are the most resplendent woman in the world; I implore: feel my alluring prose as it caresses your soul’s precious rose. But I know you not.

Your eyes are the glistening of calm seas under the rays the stars drew; your touch is true, the only touch that will do, so simple a touch where I see only you. But I know you not.

One day you shall I meet, a paroxysm of the heart upon our greet, a most irregular beat, unsure if there lies ground or clouds beneath my feet. But I know you not.

The knot in my chest perhaps tells the story best; my heart and mind for all eternity shalt never cease to rest. For why does love exude such audacity, such gall? For I declare you my Queen and I’ve not even met you at all. And acknowledging these trials and toils from pulchritude I’ve sought, the knot unequivocally knows that I know you not.

Unable to understand this prophecy at hand for it is but a dream when the canyons of distant lovers are bridged by the emancipating masses of land of wondrous corals and breathtaking light, comprising the dichotomy of love’s physical manifestation un-trite, perennially bright, subdued and drugged by love’s steadfast might; you leave me unconscious day and night, an ethereal traveler I become upon your very sight; everything becomes as is, no longer a discernment between wrong or right. It is from the ancient scrolls of romance and beauty that such a feeling may be derived; my being warmly drifts upstream from the heart’s being imbibed. But I know you not.

Forever restless, I demand you in my embrace, my hands have for eternity craved and begged for the softness of your face, I do not wish but command for fate to change pace so that you and I may be in control of love’s race for the X on our map is too far away and I need to know you inside and out today, so with our staff of love may we irreversibly eviscerate the shackles of the infinite for I refuse to and cannot wait one more minute because my lowly life of lamentation has reached its limit – so why in God’s name does love permit loneliness to be licit? You are everything I’ve ever yearned for, my love, the solution to that for which my aching soul has tried and ached and screamed and sought; so how may it be that I still know you not?

Tony Blauvelt 05/18/2013

Radiant Mystery

Forever wishing do I

to be shown a sign;

love hath not a star in the sky,

cannot the agreeable be so nigh?

Benevolence and care, together lie,

warming the bed of tender ties.

Perhaps one day, doubt shall die,

knowing I may call her “mine”.

 

Tony Blauvelt 05/04/2013