Phillip Priest

January 24, 1958-Franklin
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Stuff I didn't finish

As I begin to lie down

and sprawl out on the page

I am not sure if I will be

a piece of verse.

I look up at you.

I will be lying here

whether you see me or not.

I am dejected by being neglected

when

really

I should not care at all.

I should be content

to just exist,

but I am not.

Well,

there is nothing to do

but lie here

listening out

for falling trees.


Allow me to give you

this precious stone.

The moon

wrapped in a cloud

exposing a dark vein of rain.

O no,

its gone.


You were curled-up in the fist of air

that winded me.

You were buried alive in the ground

I fell upon.

You were light in the stone

I knocked my head upon.

You were awake in my unconsciousness.

You will remain immortal when I die.

You will be eternal when all the dust is blown away.


Occasionally

a moment on Earth

reflects a sliver of an aspect of the Divine.

But

there is no sublime feeling

one can reside within forever.

All these glimpses pass away,

abandoning me.

No home in the world,

no home in houses,

no home in the body,

no home in emotions,

no home in thought.

Photographs and fine memories-

fade.


Follow me down.

It must have been

something I dreamt.

I awoke into a dark mind.

There was nowhere to go but Death.

So close to it’s wall

it’s shadow deadened everything before me.

I saw Autumn in Spring leaves

and my plans for the day

fell flat.

Is this an opportunity then

to muster courage

and tear apart the curtain,

so black

unto a hole

into which all my vanities,

as if into the despair pit

fall?

Heaven remains silent

and motionless.

I am but bones

and I clatter as I circle the hole

trying to determine

if I should leap in.


Would that I had no God.

Many are they who have a god

to thank for their lot.

I Have one I blame a lot,

in truth,

for the length and breadth

of my entire life.

I envy those who have no deity,

who have abandoned

all Fiefdoms,

their freedom

maybe an illusion,

I know not,

but it grants them

much space and freedom

in which to wander

unhindered.

I avoid the religious

for they dress oddly

and obey strange rules.


Just for a moment

stop thinking about that self

you think you are

and remember the child you were

Did you, then, even once

need a reason to be

or a purpose for being?

No, this was not what puzzled childhood

only, maybe,

why was the sky blue?

The body grew

and dragged us along with it.

One step into the world

and where did it leave us

but pacing the floor

of some rented room

wondering on our reason.

Did someone

with words like a magic spell

say who we were

and we could not turn

from that mirror.



Dear Diary,

Disturbed I woke

this morning.

I felt like crying all day.

The bandage of a deluding dream

tore off

uncovering the wound of emptiness

and I bled a dark mood all day.

Everything is out of reach

I cannot attain

what others so easily do.

I took a wrong turn

on the wrong path.

From a long ago yesterday

I remember how

when they I knew, left

they went with my dreams of great adventures

pinned upon their backs

like wings

for my imagination

to fly,

and I felt abandoned

left behind

Now that so many have gone

at the departure lounge of the chapel

it can still make me feel

left behind

for now

surely

they must know

what I can only wonder about

with limited knowledge.


Many years later,

we meet again

to compare notes on Life.

We merely reiterate what has been writ

time and again for centuries,

except for the one whose life was study

he could only cite.

Life so short

full of many a long year.


Roused from

unperturbed unconsciousness.

Nothing.

Not even darkness,.

No world of people

nor my little world.

No thought,

no emotion,

no memory,

no state of mind

no autocratic God

no ambition

neither wants nor needs

no vain creating

no punishment nor reward

no tyranny of self.

O Anaesthetic release from life.

So,

bury me deep within the womb

of a mothering mountain

or wake the sleeper

who dreams me

and I will be gone.

Leaving

not even darkness.



I miss my Past's Future.

If I remember correctly,

I was happy there,

almost a King,

of good repute by deed.
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