“The sea always filled her with longing, though for what she was never sure.”
― Cornelia Funke
Tonight I have a guest poet on the blog, a friend of mine James Adams. His poems are rather amazing and I may feature them again from time to time
LUCIFERA’S EYES
The die has been cast
The snake eyes searching
Seeking
Drawing Me In
Staring into my depth
Ancient lady of the well
Dwelling In the realm
Of danger and its mysterious reward
Damning the foolish
To the land of the blind
Passionately
I stake my ghost
And take my turn at chance
Climbing her scales
The acrobat of coiling minds sight
The juggler of fate
Balanced upon the back
Of undulating dream
Time is friend
Giving life to experience and birthing my inevitable end
Still she calls and I heed
My wounds are my pride
As I battle with an analog sword
and an Indomitable stride
I chase the phantasmic
Creations of self-made enemies
Designed to attack with a purpose
A challenge
and a cheat
Revolutions
Convolutions
A wave and twist
Her sweet ratio shape
Fibonacci paths
And dark möbius strip
Mother Goddess
Lovely hypnotic sighs
Empress with a domain of
Soft curve of hip
Hot and cold her caresses
Loves gentle despise
Life and death the raison dete
Dealing In the game of knowledge and its deadly price
My sacrifice
Holy altar to make me sanctified In flesh
Wild vistas of Inner minds sight
Continuing I fall
Traversing her land
Far the stars and gate wide
To enter Inside
Now whole
Journey aside
The ending Is my heaven
Completion
The great serpentine prize
To perish with abandon
In those Luciferous green Lovers eyes
– James Adams
“It is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.”
— Jorge Luis Borges
To be consumed by my own nature
and to design my own fête
A complicated game
made more complex
by inner fire burning
and the hues therein
Still I play on
making my moves with abandon
I work towards the endgame
while forgetting it exists
A king will be tipped
and the movement waylaid
but who’s hand shall do the tipping?
Still there is grace
while the queen is in play
I study my changing reflection
and it is now my move.
— G A Rosenberg
“And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”
― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
The dust of broken memories
shows me strange dreams
scattered and strewn
of happy children
and shadowed times
Too many tears shattered
over dim futures
and a yearning for a time
that never was.
I feared to tell you how I felt
and your hurt silence echoed mine
We walked for hours not holding
and then it was time for the sun
Maybe someday but that will be the dust
of another’s hand.
— G A Rosenberg
“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
― Thomas Merton
I start as a blank canvas
and let my art create me
each line or splash of colour
each image that I include
adds texture to my soul.
People have it backwards
as I did for so long
The artist is created by his art
so much more than the reverse
Subconscious shadows manifest
shading the finished project
with new hues
and undiscovered nuances
and like any true art
the artist is always a work in progress.
— G A Rosenberg
“The problem is no longer getting people to express themselves, but providing little gaps of solitude and silence in which they might eventually find something to say. Repressive forces don’t stop people from expressing themselves, but rather, force them to express themselves. What a relief to have nothing to say, the right to say nothing, because only then is there a chance of framing the rare, or ever rarer, the thing that might be worth saying.”
— Gilles Deleuze
Forced to speak,
to produce mediocrity
“Shit sells” they say
and then they buy it
push it, produce it
get all to try it
yet still the scream
from deep within
“Give me the space for some wisdom”
a brilliant piece from week to week
a rarer use for my art
yet they’d rather use me constantly
draining the juices
finding the uses
of garbage, words meaningless
Speak your truth often
so mickey mouse
yet if I can wait
my words will be brief
and wondrous
yet still they come
yet still they come
— G A Rosenberg
“If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light. If I lose paper and ink, I will write in blood on forgotten walls. I will write always. I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you”
― Henry Rollins
Because I contain far more
then the contents of my content
Because I need somehow
to empty my being
before I explode
Because I need to relieve the pressure
of emotional storms and idea that
strike like lightning too fast and hard
I will create from the inside out.
Because as I express myself
I learn more of who I am
Because when I create art
I create myself as who I wish to be
Because there is expression
that comes through me not from me
I will create from the outside in
Because I see things in ways
no one else can or will
Because I have talent
and unused it will putrefy
Because I’ve grown addicted
to artistic expression
as a growth medium
I will to create
and I will create.
— G A Rosenberg
Click on images to see full-sized:
Owl’s Flight in Fire by G A Rosenberg
While the World Dissolves Around Me by G A Rosenberg
“There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.”
— Chuck Palahniuk
The landscape is changing
from moment to moment
things getting strange
and rather peculiar
is nothing familiar?
well close to that’s not it
everyday things
seem a bit exotic
with faces so strange
calling me family
they seem nice enough
tho haven’t gotten to know them
I see them as new
much as the scenery
never been here before
but maybe been close.
— G A Rosenberg
“The winds that awakened the stars
Are blowing through my blood.”
— W. B. Yeats
Winds blow through my night vision
and awaken my twilight dream.
I seek surcease for the weary
and an end to care.
Night Thunder sing the praise
of evening’s gone awry
Intentions avoiding action’s tongue
and sadness taking hold.
Lightning brightens the sky
and my words lay broken
Exposed and open to scrutiny
and my lips silent
— G A Rosenberg
“We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.”
— Margaret Atwood
For the heroes the stories
of honour and discovery
for me the simple existence
I see him return celebrated
and partake
he has grow wiser and bolder
and I continue
sweeping the floor
for crumbs
I have no arc, no quest, no voice
yet the dreams live within
tho none but me knows the beauty therein
as I wake to grey
and dishes
where he trails colour behind him.
yet colour fades
the last bit in my dust bin
as I continue on
soaring silently.
G A Rosenberg
Power is in tearing [the] human mind to pieces and putting [it] together again in new shapes of your own choosing.”
— George Orwell
Distortions in the field
Demons, Angels, gods and men
elemental beings streaming
in and out like breaths
choose an aspect for the moment
and move on
blood roses and wine
drink the dark communion
and the light
which is more filling
fulfilling?
Equations in the offering
divide a sunset over
seven rainbows
and solve for starlight
Book pages and characters
their roles played out
on ever dissolving stages.
Movement in the corner of my eye
animals, gryphons, manticores
sad puppies fighting for the
bones of my remains
sexual ecstasy in every corner
bodies surrendering and taking
what pleasure they can
joyful universe at play
dark imaginings in sleep
and who can tell the difference?
— G A Rosenberg
To See a Darker Sun by G A Rosenberg 
Wolf Shadows and Blue by G A Rosenberg 
