I MUST GO TO ELYSIUM Or the asylum

I've planned before to die when I believed I was finished

With my suicidal ideation throughout life, it'd come easy

I realized, against my natural inclination, she was a proof

My life had needs but grave isolation left me diminished

Because I needed love, wanting it, I was told I was greedy

Though often told that others loved me, my life was cruel

Perfection was never my goal, and yet, it was enforced

My life was often a failure, I believed I was unlovable

But my Katya's love was unforced, and she taught me

That her love was a gift, as it was the voice of God

Telling me I was worthy of love, in her perfect form

When she left me I too wished to die but I will not

Elysium is the answer, and there she and I can rest

In a perfect place, with joy and dreams, and love
Katya taught me, that in this life, there is enough
With her life was endurable, with her I was blessed

Photos taken by Elizabeth Ness and Jonathan Ness, 2024©

Deathless

Floating through the ethers, a fog's veil
A living corpse calls his master's name
The rain is freezing, the air's bitter
Though early Autumn, feels like winter
Watching ghosts of lives flourish
In the white thick clouds they live
Memories of lives once given
And seeking love
At last to be forgiven

Revelation Leaves

An immaculately clean place of study, with walls of books
At a silent monastery, comes dedicated study of sacred truth

A sole monk is capturing the thoughts he has focused, in ink

A foundation of knowledge, coming from inquiry and proof

Love lays beneath all layers and infused within every atom

No hate, no lies, only the deepest place of holding commune

There is nothing in any atom but the blueprint of knowledge
The perfect machine, fully organic yet designed to function

The day had come, the truth fully revealed, nothing left
Hour after hour, day after day, all knowledge blooms

Damned by Ink

All proof is lost in the evidence files
Facts exist but they confuse issues
Nothing is equal, not even thought
In the absence of knowing, I plead
As ink flows, into misery wrought
The truth is worth knowing, dream
Sleep escapes me, nightmare bleed
The ink in my veins pours from me
A vein is cut, all my arteries burst
Knowing isn't the same as a proof
Paint the walls, paint the corridors
My ink sprays across the room
I am well prepared for the end
The cold ground is my tomb

As a Poet, As a Warrior, Archilochus of Paros, Ancient Greece

It is a rarity of a mind and outlook found in those who revel in fiction or memoirs of war, to find one who eschews heroism, who holds survival highest of all the noble traits. Archilochus bore arms and fought, but actively identified himself as a poet. He was a warrior. He fought, and injured and likely killed other warriors. But he considered being alive at the end of a conflict as the chief goal of any battle.

He is in my favorite poets list, but the sole unhappy aspect of reading him, is that this seemingly modern minded and individualistic poet wrote so long ago, most of his work is lost to time. The three books shown above engage in his work and probe the historical person he was. But there was surely much more, and is now beyond our reach.

THE SHOUTING GOD

From the raining fire, their god Vesuvius cried
Smoke roared and flames screamed from a gaping maw
Fleeing for safety, many found nowhere to run
Sound of an angry God fiercely casting stones
The dead lay where they fell, in unholy ash
For this God's anger had only just begun
Humanity need learn to obey the lash
Punished for dreaming of the different dreams
The time for thought was gone, earth and gods are one
The people lived for pleasure, lived for themselves
Rather than sacrifice for the gods or in fear

SOURCE

Ancient Impermanent Existence

I was cast into the ground, once open, foul and wet
A place no longer needed, my soul no longer met
You are the cause of my despair, and I have no hope
For I've life, but no longer of legacy, I stand
This violence you desire, the stain is not by my hand

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon 
the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts."           Charles Dickens

Image from Pixabay, https://pixabay.com/users/stocksnap-894430/

Silenced In 6 Lines

When I called your name, nothing echoed in sound
No songs, no words, no fresco of beauty or thought
My voice has been stolen, no hope I'm earthbound
Days fade, dreams never begin, my end is wrought
For without love and without my voice, I'm silent
And in the quiet I can only hear myself cry

Obeying the Crop

Tied and laced behind, the suit covers every bit
Darkness lingers rather than shines, as if lasers
Shine and gloss, reflective and solid, just admit
You are thrilled to be the one, receiving favors
With gag and tightened collar, he can't escape
Your hand works a crop, retrieving obedience
Every moment of darkness reveals layers
With you the trust is always in doubt
But I think you like that, even a lot