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Poems 2005





“the journey of clouds”

 
we are... 

 

shadows from a greying memory 

that cloak a dying breath of hope, 

changing shapes and inspirations, 

inside and out, 

like the journey of clouds  

that storm, 

the hollows of forgotten warm spaces, 

vanishing, 

only to reappear in cold disguise 

as fire and ice collide,  

 

...predictable, unpredictable,  

and forever dangerous, 

until the end of time. 

 



"The moon crossed time”

 
the moon crossed time 

and erased its back side,

the stars all exploded 

and left black holes.

 

the world turned vague  

and lost its bouquet,

heaven floats elsewhere,

its mystery contained. 

 

seeing was a wonder,

thoughts were the same,

and believing was a feeling

just the same. 




“our transparent universe” 

 
our transparent universe 

was created from the mist 

of a delicious desire 

found wandering, 

 

tied by the dreamy fibers 

of our bright beginnings, 

worn and tattered.

near its end. 

 

this fleeting form 

consumes its own soul, 

a gift of reason 

yet to behold, 

 

while space, devoured, 

and lost within, 

will serve up memories 

still wandering.




“I come alive” 


I come alive 

in the darkness of your thoughts: 

 

I produce the play, 

I am writer and director, 

I cast the characters,  

I stage the scenery; 

I can make it soft, 

I can move it to metallic.  

 

I can create monsters 

inside your room,

I can mangle the mind 

until it gives in.

 

inside your dreams 

stars will collide, 

causing deflections, 

and pause outside 

their own reflections

 

yes, 

you control your thoughts 

during the day

but I rule the night 

when you are asleep. 

 

I am your worst nightmare

and I will come alive, 

any day now. 




“consider my end” 

 
consider my end, 

when my breath 

departs 

and death sets in. 

 

how will I behave 

if forced 

out of control, 

my thoughts 

no longer secure, 

what turmoil 

will disconnect me 

from my own soul; 

 

as you see me gone, 

you will say, 

finally at peace 

in his mortal sleep, 

 

but the cold hand 

of fear

will rest its chill 

on the shoulder 

of your thoughts 

and you will imagine 

the empty darkness  

as you await your turn. 




“a rhapsody of dreams” 
 

in a rhapsody of dreams 

I lay uncovered, 

naked in thoughts, 

devoured by most illusions 

that lay hidden; 

reflections inside dark streams, 

my mortal desires, 

crossing,

leaping the rivers of doubt, 

yet never once 

reaching the far side, 

 

losing in mid flight 

the choice of innocence, 

I am deep into my tears; 

as a drop can only fall down, 

and drown, 

inside the waters of regret. 


 

“my dusty soul” 

 

my dark sky opens the heart of sorrow, 

and rains a sharp cry onto the soft surface; 

in escape, desire rides with a dusty soul, 

the coat of confusion easy to uphold.

 

how it tempts me still, beyond concern 

for any lost causes, or reasons for sincerity. 

sweet images and dreamscape concerns, 

boastful lies, I’m told,  mortality wishes. 

 

witch hunts are just and held as fair game, 

the same for  thoughts, another charade; 

is there more justice than what I’m told, 

I must remember, to brush off my dusty soul.


------- bohdan yuri 


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Before 911, by Greg McNeil
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