Reflect
Take a look in a mirror, but before you do that...
Close your eyes and think nothing. There is nothing now. Existance is non-existant. Think back to the begining of time. Before there were people. Before there was anything. Absolutly nothing!
Now open your eyes and look in the mirror. Look into your own eyes and be amazed that you exist. That of all the people and things that have existed through the course of history, you are the one staring back through the mirror RIGHT NOW! Of all the thoughts being thought right now, you have the pleasure to think that of yourself and to read your own mind like no other person can.
You exist. I exist. We are thinking beings in a large group of thinking beings with everything to ourselves. The mind is anything. As far as you are concerned, it's anything that you want it to be. You are the center of a universe that is the mind, your mind. That is enough to want to keep existing. Existance is a miraculous posession that only your mind can extinguish.
The mystery of my own existance used to shock me all the time. I have suffered with depression and anxiety my whole life. But there were rare moments when my mind suprised me. I would literally find myself looking in the mirror, feeling dizzy, and not believing that it was possible that I existed. I just couldn't believe it. Your prompt reminded me of that feeling once again. This disbelief makes me feel so happy, in a way that I can hardly explain in these words.
Now I remember that there is no need to be sad, when the most beautiful thing to posses is the very thought that I exist.
She’s a Mang-ging-go!
She’s a Mang-ging-go!...
Candied skin you could eat...
It’s an orangey red green
if you know what I mean,
fruit that hangs off this vine,
through the jungle I’d climb
to recover the bird
who has broke from her flock...
...When I see her shell-shock
rolls in waves through
and through!...
Wild flavours ensue
every inch of my spine,
and I can’t look away
as I’m held in her sway
by the spirits that flicker...
There’s a scent rises up
from those feathers she shakes...
...I am here with my cup
Begging out by her lake
’til she senses desire,
and draws in inch by inch...
...On and off, lightening bugs
keep me glued to her flood
of enormous delight
as I pray through dark night
for another encounter
roundish lanterns descend
from big sky where I’ve hung them
as my tribute that lends
my great praise to her heaven...
Lanky Goddess up high!...
I will always adore you!...
You must never be shy,
though I love how you’re humble...
Roping throats up in knots...
Tightly tapped to your splendor...
Whether breathing or not,
I am gaping, eyes dialed...
And I can’t look away...
You’ve a presence self styled
that so many have paid
through the nose to reflect,
though they don’t stand a chance...
She’s my speckled Mang-ging-go!...
...and I’m cleaved by her lance.
©
2/12/20
Bunny Villaire
(Edit #3)
The Process and Those Side-line Discoveries
Many are the ways
cast into these high winds...
Like a multitude of rays
when sun scatters
on it's whim
Through various arrays
of broken glass it
bounces off...
What will this thrill day
bring us, eh?...
It's now probing every soft
wrinkle in my brain that sits
in beguiled anticipation...
Not knowing when...
Or what...
Or how...
...Leads me to this
Rocking chair
on the edge of an
embankment
That offers pleasures with
raw fear...
Many are the ways
cast into these high winds...
I am just a leaf,
I'm flying!...
Leaving all my friends behind...
...Maybe I'll return one day...
But now I'm gone,
and that's the way...
Way of the world...
Way of the trip...
Many are the ways we slip...
Stricken from stiff upper lip...
Many, and without one number...
Out of stupor...
Out of slumber...
©
2/9/20
Bunny Villaire
Our child
I pray our child has got that shine
within your eyes,
and that soft dip to your chin
where the line takes a jump
swimming up to become full lips,
so luscious, and deeply desired...
So thoroughly they're both admired
by every inch in me that aches through
these long hours in which we take
ourselves to work to make a life.
I pray our child beams ever so bright
just like your cheeks light like a rose...
I pray our child will never know
the hard-ships that we overcame,
but if he/she does then may your sane
guiding light shuffle them through...
I pray my guidance will help them too,
and I can see all our hands linked,
as we stand hanging at the brink,
and weather storms with glowing hearts...
...I'll love our child, knowing that part
of you and me
dances inside,
and through our world which we abide.
To: Mavia my love
©
1/17/20
Bunny Villaire
The Heart In Chains
As the cars press the senses,
and the city wells up
in my naval passageway,
the ever growing
afghan of grey
seizes my faith,
and keeps me silent as
our nonstop saucy world parade
kicks off
all around the clock...
Tune in to see enduring concerns
as unwritten pages of the book
pile high...
...So many swollen,
temperamental minds
bloat and stagnant
without the virtue
of a spirit guide in which to
draw the shades, and
salvage the Derelicts of the Dock...
"Come for us as well!...Lift us up upon your boat!,"
they cry...
These limitations of the heart
cause everyone to bruise
as well as the sky above,
the lofty birds,
and the options
that we choose...
...I turned away a woman
in revulsion,
and my world was rocked
by the effects of my abuse.
We all must come together!...
Open the heart in which we're tethered
to that hefty stone
of false impression.
These limitations are just feigned!...
Crack the mirror...
Break the chains
that keep the ugly intellect in check...
...There is a price
you'd not suspect.
©
1/16/20
Bunny Villaire
Cross Bones
She’s cross bones floatin’
on her eyes...
Kept Eye Crowd rockin’
side to side...
...Cringed on anxious heels
they devour her shield
as she blows
through the orangey sky.
Like a breeze she's now
passing over...
She’s the cloud far
above our heads...
...Why they hang,
hungry fangs, so sober
like some icicle
that’s gone wet?...
She be singin’ psalms
while they well
with weights...
It's her painted cue
To ignore old traits
as they carve a roost
from imagined bliss
with an honored view
of the wide abyss...
She’s cross bones floatin’
on her eyes...
Kept Eye Crowd rockin’
side to side...
...Cringed on anxious heels
they devour her shield
...There she blows
through the orangey sky!
In a grip, raised to dip
From the crude dirt nap...
Tho her end came too quick
With one slice of your bat...
Not a heart arose
From this den of trolls
Who are sentenced to the
burning vat...
She be singin’ psalms
while they well
with weights...
It's her painted cue
To ignore old traits
as they carve a roost
from imagined bliss
with an honored view
of the wide abyss...
She’s cross bones floatin’
on her eyes...
Kept Eye Crowd rockin’
side to side...
...Cringed on anxious heels
they devour her shield...
...There she blows
through the orangey sky!
©
1/9/20
Bunny Villaire
(Edit #4)
Queen of The New Glade
Cross-checked as a tree
After Fall had robbed her leaves…
The Queen of the New Glade
Yearned and bled
for the flashing page
which bore words
light as wings,
much like the webs
that clothed
her haunted dreams…
And as hornets will buzz
As they fashion their fresh hut,
our Queen began to form a tent
whistling wildly as she humbly went…
…Sewing funnels of thought
With the goodies she had brought
…Mile high folded sheets soared
Until they spilled into the streets
Where she would ultimately
Spend her retreat...
The veins she wore within
Were woven
Incredibly thin
As if to negate the
Inevitable border
That is always approaching...
Reality is just "as if,"
a passing fad or
mode of fitting in,
and sitting very still
she might try to escape
this weathering...
...Like the wise owl
finds its gnarled opening...
…She too was engaged
In a shortening of breath as
Her fellas hidden hand
Slipped down
Her pleated skirt,
And pressed her pleasure button
In a flirtatious attempt
To fracture time and space!…
…And, as if in answer…
“Yes!”: There was success
In the seemingly elaborate ruse
To crack the Code of Conduct,
And pierce the veil that so often
Is abused by those in power who create
These psychic traps that
Strike a slab
Between this Year and the One
That comes…
…Like extra folds of flab,
the stone upon her face fell,
and she was flush!...
She was formerly
so often buried in her views
Which pierced
The weightless butterfly
Upon the sterile wall
of perverse inspection…
Let us slip into the glade
That the Queen of Hearts has laid!...
...Each Year is ours to make,
And not the reverse, like some
Harshly wronged
Curse…
Cross-checked as a tree
After Fall had robbed her leaves…
Refreshed,
The Queen of the
New Glade
Yearned and bled
for the flashing page
which bore words
light as wings,
much like the webs
that clothed
her haunted dreams.
©
1/1/20
Bunny & Mavia Villaire
The Blizzard of The Soul
The blizzard
of the soul that's bared
in the calculated cold
of a vacant look...
is much too brazen
and blued...
cast of every
tender sinew
...it slips
to a point
...empty
yet defined...
the tip
of an icicle
destined to
drip...
one last time
...
I watched
a face in the
cracking ice
far below...
It was marred
by the weather in
your touch.
If you had to push,
why did you come
down with
such weight?...
The Gate of Time
opens so rarely,
and only by
so much.
I tried to take your hand,
but the mirror that sat
upon the lake
had frozen over the
small hole where your
plunging body sank...
...I'll come to visit you
when this
blizzard of the soul
has cleared,
but now I think the snows
have buried ancient
markings that would appear
...what forecast wrinkles
never formed on
this expressionless
expanse... waiting
for a breath
across the
overpass
...to this smoldered spot
of a burning
heart where
emotions
pool...
and interlock.
©
12/30/19
Bunny & Mavia Villaire
Afterglow
Blanking out
because the mind says it’s ok...
...She was here, and then there,
and then somewhere in the fray...
Lost like a puppy in the park...
Searching for a rare stone
that would call to her
from some cavity in the grey...
I thought I could invoke her
like a windstorm on the beach...
...Though she always seemed so
potent,
every prayer felt like a speech
to an empire deep within.
Still I tried so hard to swim
with the current we’d rehearsed...
Before she'd dwindled like the show
that the dawn makes over snow.
©
12/28/19
Bunny Villaire
This Place Don’t Feel Like a Community Anymore
Distant money-makers,
and thoughtless crocodile pursuits
set to the music of a
sad and solo
Indian flute
that no one left alive can hear...
...I remember grinning ear to ear
when I'd stumble upon lost words
of weight...
Now I wonder if some tape
has covered up the Sun
that once beamed down upon
our faces that we're set on stun
and sweep...
There's creeps crawling out
of the bursting spots we've rent
where needle and string
are absent,
all intent
has slipped out without a thought.
It's time to be incognito, and withdraw!...
I'm ready for a new day,
and so I'll thaw,
and try an ancient door
that never opened long before
I thought I knew what I was doing.
©
Bunny Villaire
12/22/19