Solipsism
: a theory in philosophy that your own existence is the only thing that is real or that can be known. (Merriam-Webster, www.learnersdictionary.com)
Photo credit: Weeping Willow, www.shutterstock.com
Lady Liberty, Google Images
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http://time.com/5414486/christine-blasey-ford-time-cover/
All
All -
Sullied violence dripping vileness reported or not
Suppressed repressed redressed
Surfacing surfaces decades minutes ago
Volcano blame shame harangue
Smell sound sensation watching
Careening cowering crying
Cry Down your Face
Sister-Woman hold the
Torch hold the torch
Hold the torch for all to
Be Free.
All -
~ JFH © 10.12.2018
...cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus
1883
Karestan Koenan, a Harvard professor who researches PTSD in assault and rape victims, said that Kavanaugh’s confirmation will make many survivors feel as if sharing what happened to them had no impact. She explained, “speaking out and feeling invalidated — or worse, shamed...”
http://time.com/5413109/brett-kavanaugh-supreme-court-survivors-trigger-ptsd/
Sullied violence dripping vileness reported or not
Suppressed repressed redressed
Surfacing surfaces decades minutes ago
Volcano blame shame harangue
Smell sound sensation watching
Careening cowering crying
Cry Down your Face
Sister-Woman hold the
Torch hold the torch
Hold the torch for all to
Be Free.
All -
~ JFH © 10.12.2018
...cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus
1883
Karestan Koenan, a Harvard professor who researches PTSD in assault and rape victims, said that Kavanaugh’s confirmation will make many survivors feel as if sharing what happened to them had no impact. She explained, “speaking out and feeling invalidated — or worse, shamed...”
http://time.com/5413109/brett-kavanaugh-supreme-court-survivors-trigger-ptsd/
Dashboard Mary, http://www.capecentralhigh.com/travel/plastic-statues-and-seatbelts/
Driving
Sounds shut out the mirrored Sky.
Sun traces a path to Night.
Stars brace this highway. They
Hear your Wish, you know. Pierce
Silent memories roaring some distance.
Road blind and tired,
Follow little white lines.
Mind flickers. Entranced.
All the ways you never listened or
Saw me. Why I loved you.
Explain to me, please.
I’m listening.
Road disintegrates into sliced stars;
Reasons disappear.
Only I Lost.
Calculations devoid of answers.
Pitied Stars disappear.
Road devours reason. Your cold hands,
Choked lies.
Iron gloves ratchet my skin.
Cars squeeze through me.
Rumble strip whines and groans.
Beaten by iron lies. Quickening curve;
Glass and thick blood. Sounds shut
Down the mirrored highway.
Road blind, I lost!
Choked stars. All the ways
You never listened. Pitiful mirrored
Shards. Fatal caress.
Sounds shut down –
JFH © 1.12.2018
Sun traces a path to Night.
Stars brace this highway. They
Hear your Wish, you know. Pierce
Silent memories roaring some distance.
Road blind and tired,
Follow little white lines.
Mind flickers. Entranced.
All the ways you never listened or
Saw me. Why I loved you.
Explain to me, please.
I’m listening.
Road disintegrates into sliced stars;
Reasons disappear.
Only I Lost.
Calculations devoid of answers.
Pitied Stars disappear.
Road devours reason. Your cold hands,
Choked lies.
Iron gloves ratchet my skin.
Cars squeeze through me.
Rumble strip whines and groans.
Beaten by iron lies. Quickening curve;
Glass and thick blood. Sounds shut
Down the mirrored highway.
Road blind, I lost!
Choked stars. All the ways
You never listened. Pitiful mirrored
Shards. Fatal caress.
Sounds shut down –
JFH © 1.12.2018
Photo credit: Unknown (Google Images)
Waiting
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Waiting for him
Is like Waiting for Water to Burn. JFH © 1993 Posted 1.5.2018 “if i could do it all again i would've loved me more instead of waiting on you” ― R.H. Sin, A Beautiful Composition of Broken |
Amore e Psiche by Antonio Canova c 1787-1793 in the Louvre, Paris
To My Future Lover
There are rooms inside me
You will never see. Places never shown;
Some flags not raised. Words slice my Bones, pitting
Woman against Man against Herself, and all Nature groans.
Nectar, too, seeps from my lips in
Elegant, amorous smile. Songs pulse and quake. I am
Not calm or careful sometimes. I can
Play tricks upon my own eyes. I can be
Petty then meek. Sometimes weep for caged Dolphins to be free.
Don't push me into defenses where I hide. Still, I beat on. I
Stand open. Fresh, Fragrant, Clean.
Unpretentious since my last life.
If you kiss me, know my lips you suck into your mouth.
If you touch me, know my skin that you hold.
If you admire me, understand my mind stimulates you.
If you caress me, wander my body whilst you roam.
I am not a glittery Playground or warm lump to roll up in your bed.
I am Real. A Rare Pearl at the Gates of Love.
Choose not to destroy me. Be tender,
Always. Be steadfast. Be gentle with me.
Call my Mind with honor.
Call my Body with passion.
Call my Love with integrity. Be kind,
Always. Be open. Be generous with me.
JFH © 12.22.2017
You will never see. Places never shown;
Some flags not raised. Words slice my Bones, pitting
Woman against Man against Herself, and all Nature groans.
Nectar, too, seeps from my lips in
Elegant, amorous smile. Songs pulse and quake. I am
Not calm or careful sometimes. I can
Play tricks upon my own eyes. I can be
Petty then meek. Sometimes weep for caged Dolphins to be free.
Don't push me into defenses where I hide. Still, I beat on. I
Stand open. Fresh, Fragrant, Clean.
Unpretentious since my last life.
If you kiss me, know my lips you suck into your mouth.
If you touch me, know my skin that you hold.
If you admire me, understand my mind stimulates you.
If you caress me, wander my body whilst you roam.
I am not a glittery Playground or warm lump to roll up in your bed.
I am Real. A Rare Pearl at the Gates of Love.
Choose not to destroy me. Be tender,
Always. Be steadfast. Be gentle with me.
Call my Mind with honor.
Call my Body with passion.
Call my Love with integrity. Be kind,
Always. Be open. Be generous with me.
JFH © 12.22.2017
Joan Crawford photos via Google Images. All rights reserved by original photographers.
I Stopped At The Door
I stopped at the door. My
Heart disheveled, collapsed. Joan Crawford thirst,
Lonely and ravenous. Locked or unlocked,
I can't be sure.
This Heart -
Stark Naked and Wild.
Lumbering. Kicking. Tripping. Staggering
Out of the slicing wind, pelting stone,
Crushed ice vodka, desert thorn.
Conveniently lost and hungry. Fat
Buddha laughs at some distant camera. Whispers,
Sit under the Bodhi Tree. Vitarka Mudra
Thumb kisses finger; Rare exquisite embrace.
Buddha chuckles,
Dance with the Sweet Lotus Flower.
Healing Hands cradle my boozed, wandering Heart; its Burnt
Ancient Desolate Tower. Buddha prays, Enter the
Dharma Door. A three-fold refuge for the weariest Souls and
This Heart. Are you ready?
I stopped at the door.
JFH © 12.6.2017
Heart disheveled, collapsed. Joan Crawford thirst,
Lonely and ravenous. Locked or unlocked,
I can't be sure.
This Heart -
Stark Naked and Wild.
Lumbering. Kicking. Tripping. Staggering
Out of the slicing wind, pelting stone,
Crushed ice vodka, desert thorn.
Conveniently lost and hungry. Fat
Buddha laughs at some distant camera. Whispers,
Sit under the Bodhi Tree. Vitarka Mudra
Thumb kisses finger; Rare exquisite embrace.
Buddha chuckles,
Dance with the Sweet Lotus Flower.
Healing Hands cradle my boozed, wandering Heart; its Burnt
Ancient Desolate Tower. Buddha prays, Enter the
Dharma Door. A three-fold refuge for the weariest Souls and
This Heart. Are you ready?
I stopped at the door.
JFH © 12.6.2017
Photos: The Spoils, JFH and https://www.quora.com
Rosy Little Life
One day he called and
Wanted me back.
My lips were warm enough for him.
Told me to say something. Words
Stung my eyeballs; Flashed right out.
Tumbled down cold cheeks -
Resurrected independence failed.
Hands shook. Body hot vapor.
Frozen terror.
I cannot.
Broken against those treasonous eyes.
Confused pacing room to room a long way from your
Telephone call.
Did you even miss me?
Silent heaving slow sigh.
He told me to say something.
I cannot.
Whimpering stutter erupts cold fusion.
I don't know, my lips rumble.
He said, Get on with your
Rosy little life, then.
JFH © 11.29.2017
Wanted me back.
My lips were warm enough for him.
Told me to say something. Words
Stung my eyeballs; Flashed right out.
Tumbled down cold cheeks -
Resurrected independence failed.
Hands shook. Body hot vapor.
Frozen terror.
I cannot.
Broken against those treasonous eyes.
Confused pacing room to room a long way from your
Telephone call.
Did you even miss me?
Silent heaving slow sigh.
He told me to say something.
I cannot.
Whimpering stutter erupts cold fusion.
I don't know, my lips rumble.
He said, Get on with your
Rosy little life, then.
JFH © 11.29.2017
But I somehow slowly love you
And wanna keep you the same
Well, I somehow slowly know you
And wanna keep you away
- The Spoils, Massive Attack (2016)
Photos: Still shots from the music video for The Spoils by Massive Attack
Director John Hillcoat, Starring Cate Blanchett
Art: Mid Summer Dream by John Fasano, www.fineartamerica.com
Love Me Out Loud
Step into the
Garden of my Delights.
Let your eyes tickle me. Glance again;
Your mind piqued.
I know I have your gaze.
Talk to me of wonderland places
Where you dream. Relieve this eerie silence. Be bold!
I'm the whole clear ocean.
Your thoughts crash all around me;
Rolling tomes, intrepid waves.
Your eyes light crevices within me. Your
Hands mold the beckoning Sea. Shoulder starlight nights.
Curiosity propels you. Fly into me.
Open your mouth -
Love me out loud.
JFH © 11.29.2017
Garden of my Delights.
Let your eyes tickle me. Glance again;
Your mind piqued.
I know I have your gaze.
Talk to me of wonderland places
Where you dream. Relieve this eerie silence. Be bold!
I'm the whole clear ocean.
Your thoughts crash all around me;
Rolling tomes, intrepid waves.
Your eyes light crevices within me. Your
Hands mold the beckoning Sea. Shoulder starlight nights.
Curiosity propels you. Fly into me.
Open your mouth -
Love me out loud.
JFH © 11.29.2017
Photo: Black Incense, JFH © 11.24.2017
How
How did we get away from each other?
O, I remember.
I crawled away from you.
Stood looking at you
For years
Decades in the hand mirror behind dark corners
Of my life.
How
How did we get away from each other?
O, I remember.
I crawled away from you.
Stood looking at you
For years
Decades in the hand mirror behind dark corners
Of my life.
I remember your face and voice
Heard over the phone last Winter that I forgot for years.
And you came back into me.
Scared Lonely Little Girl, so
Wanting your eyes to touch me gently; Those
Heavy-lidded fierce eyes that used to laugh when I was caught
Caged in what you said to me
Taunting me too far off the ledge.
But, I would have gone anywhere for you.
Sailed into the white-capped Sea - frigid flailing mercilessly.
I saw you
Came to me in a vision. My
Grown-Up Self, helpless stranded -
Stranded, marooned when all I wanted was to fall deep into you.
Night is now. Low shadows weeping from the Trees and
Your laughter
Talons pierce my limbic brain. When all I do is smell you.
Hear you. Feel you. See you.
All I do is see you;
Unglue myself from you.
How did I lose myself to you?
JFH © 11.28.2017
Photo credit: Rain Street, colourbox.com
Whispering Rampage of Sin
You said when you met me that I was the best thing you ever had that you never knew.
What was that?
I giggled. You sounded so poetic
underneath your languid smile. Licked
your lower lip. My knees quivered.
I knew you wanted to kiss me rapaciously.
Now, out of spite, I throw it back at you -
A lob meant for your head. Landed outside your
Left ear. The one with the dimple.
The dimple I would trace with my tongue
until you whimpered.
The man and woman behind me in my late lunch crowd are obviously
New lovers at an old age. Though I'm young,
My mind dissolves the lines between
Lovers language and everyday life.
Of all the uncrowded tables, they sit behind
Me and all my empty chairs.
I eat alone, but your arms reach across the table
for my hands. I draw back
Turn my head.
You go away.
I eat by myself.
Drive by myself.
Vacation by myself.
I open my own doors.
Scratch my own back
Now
Where your fingertips used to touch.
They try to be quiet but I hear them plotting their
Next meal, next discussion, next conquest.
Her high pitched chuckle, his sigh.
Must be brand new love at an old age.
Now the rain
Fucking pick pock rain on the tin roof at least
Drowning out their giggle grins and lover smiles.
Once that was me. And you.
Our table.
At one time I had a giggle lover smile and
You had my body.
Sophisticated as slumber in
Hot, tangled sheets that
undulated with the raging breath of
climax.
You were the perfect part of me.
Even when we dissolved into a tropical depression
Waves pouring over the raft or canoe that
We could never row to shore.
Thunder awakening me from the dream where
You used to rock me.
You were liquid in my veins.
Now I whisper, "It's too late."
And, you're too early. We collide -
a brush with each other; passing through
On the way to another town.
My bright lights too halogen for your loose,
Country song. You run, outpacing my
Brief steps.
We made love on dry afternoons without a cloud -
was an omen for our cloudless love. I used to whisper
Songs to you. I believed you hummed along.
But was it the whispered rampage of sin?
A sin?
Only where we missed the mark.
Dampening breath, hearts glistening with dew but
Fixed to the arid ceiling chipped and peeling.
We invented cloudless afternoons.
And loved each other too late
Too soon.
JFH © 7.18.2017