In a Battle with Chagrin
The bias that lies in all things remembered a prejudice that forever lasts educated by our lessons learned from mistakes of a previous past. Trapped within a tunnel of light blinded by the end of our vision imprisioned by the crucified key locked, in the same prejudical prison. Fighting over this hallowed ground we maim what we hope to claim leaving a world that lay in riun leaving the winner o do the same. Like a boxerjabbing his own shadow in his battle with chagrin attesting blows, for all he knows rest upon his own chin. The spoils of war fester lingering , like the smell of day old sin in the irony of war the ruth is told the lie we sold ourselves to begin.
Through Eyes Only
Through eyes only we see in a single spectrum like light without spectrum exist in one dimension like a superficial cut a scar long since healed what lies on the surface is so easily revealed though eyes only the mind cannot conceive what's hidden inside lying naked unperceived our vision pulled through the eye of a needle blind to what exists in our minds peripheral through eyes only our mind will dissolve our other senses wasted can no longer evolve our thoughts become biased to the same stimulation creating our prejudice in our focused discrimination through eyes only our mind becomes so jaded beckoned to beauty until that beauty becomes faded as time goes on things become much clearer our reflection is not only what we see in the mirror.
A Jewel not Jaded
In the eye of the beholder the jewel is the object we adore what was once seen now faded the stone we choose to ignore leave no stone unturned for there is a jewel within each one every stone was just a rock before a jewel it could become in our cold hearts of stone we call from a bottomless pit the icon we created from a stone that once did exist the clariy of its cut mared by the charity we have traded while the heart of a stone lies in a jewel that's not jaded like the wind shapes the stone the spolights glare has invaded its caress becomes relentless once the desire had been created what was once a simple stone just a mere piece of rock now has to dance to the rhythmn of what others want the stone has lost a victim to the jewel within which it is trapped the object of affection for the stone that others lack but has the stone really lost to the jewel that we created or does the heart of a stone hide within a jewel that is not jaded.
A Van Gogh View
As I sit and stare looking past a chill shudders my window pain glass a sprinle stains my chilled window pain only betrays the cry of the coming ain the morning mist only minutes old hugs the cold wet ground of stone a silver scene in a slippery scene my dream is now awash in saline a scented breeze lingers to tease its ease now replaced with a roar as the wind shifted my idle thoughts drifted like a ship in need of an oar as the rain fell a van Gogh like spell silver images no merged at there seams colors faded now obscure and jaded in the jest of this van Gogh-like dream clouds twist the tears from the sky mimicking the images of a mad man's mind Vincent were your vision's of this earth or trepidations fashioned in your toutured time as my sight grew from my van Gogh point of view through my window I wondered why was the rain a prism I was looking through or a oil and water tear in my eye.
© 1999-2001 Copyright Bill Hahn
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