Smoking With The Fay
When I found myself in the city,
The walls beneath my feet, they fell.
Astonishing to think this thing so simple.
Wish me Will, but dread the thought,
The simplest things get lost in hell.
These city walls with laws outrageous!
Pierce my sides with lashing tongues,
How dare they try to encourage us!
And stomp us down into the C horizon?
We don’t belong or exist in separation,
We hesitate until our time runs out.
In the end, they’ll see, that peace may be
Offered into hands that are not devout!
Inside this labyrinth at the belly of my Fear,
Amidst the diversely separated I’ve found,
On the bottom of this barrel and onto the next,
I am decaying, yes, maybe yes, I am dying,
And shall continue to dive within the Earth,
Only to find the solidity overwhelming.
Cast me out in stones denied!
Send me back into the trees!
They respond with great songs,
But they are no different than me.
At last I find myself at home!
At last I can unclench my fists!
My old friends, welcome me back!
Your symphony is horribly missed!
What’s this what why no Fay?
Surely it hasn’t been too long,
Even in fog they come out to play
I’m back! I’m back home at last!
Where have you gone and why?
Am I no longer pure or sober?
Could vivid memories be a lie?
No, surly you hide from me.
I still remember your letter!
The trees are shy but always honest,
A tick on my neck greets me better.
Forgive my intrusion, I bid you fair well,
To Hell with you all to be lost when needed,
And to me as well, for getting so soiled.
Occasionally we too need to be weeded.
My favorite spot, my secret holy ground,
The circle still spinning and calling.
That faint suggestion echoes in my dreams,
Letting me know why I keep falling.
Without my other half, my life is drained,
It feels like emptiness when you’re inside.
Inside the circle I left, I reentered standing up,
Outside I always remembered, outside I cried.
Knees deep in the mud, it’s there, my Fear,
Eying me down with a wet weathered brow.
This was my old escape, still hidden today,
It is here, the Fay’s Gate, I remember now!
Three pats on the ground, focusing my Will
I’m too nervous now and I can’t sit still!
One enters cautiously defending her tribe,
Cautiously whispering, I desperately bribe.
But milk and honey it seems I’ve forgot.
So I opened my pockets and handed her pot
My breath taken as a tear froze at my chin,
These are humble beings that see past sin.
How selfish was I to assume in deed,
All they wanted was a little weed…
Within mortal moments in their embrace,
My circle vanishes without a trace.
Eyes closed and senses heightened
Standing naked but not frightened,
No character armor or insecurities,
Freedom from my eccentricities.
One flash, two, three, four, then five,
They remind me how it feels to be alive.
The time has run short I have to go,
Not to return until after the snow.
When spring comes, so shall my horns,
Then back home to my vines and thorns.
Seasons are too quick to lay to waste,
Winter is near and passes with haste.
Snow on my sleeping trees, give them rest,
Take care of them, they deserve the very best.
When the saplings bud, I shall return,
And while the Beltane bonfires burn,
You will see me again, with milk and honey,
And treasures beyond the worth of money.
Before I leave, please grant me one smile,
The one I haven’t felt for quite a while.
Help me remember to stay healthy,
And without the need to be wealthy.
Drunk with courage my feet do fly,
Back to my dwellings in the city.
Envying the scattered patches of trees,
Farmers tilling soil for the next crop,
Gawking at birds as they flyby so low,
Wondering, wandering, where is my home?
When I get back, where do I go and why?
Lost already with only three miles to go!
The city lights look so lazy, seem so ethereal,
Lingering foggy, hazy pain you can still feel
That is to say, “reality” now, is more surreal,
More complex, inane, virtually insane.
People to people, relying on each other,
Courthouse to steeple, stealing our sky.
We may ask, “who is authority and why?”
To get stones thrown at our fragile naivety,
Neighbors, constant reminders of the Nativity,
Natives even turn their heads and laugh.
They wave and pretend to understand,
Secretly laughing still at their own reflection,
Reacting only to securely hidden perfection,
Each perception reflecting in vacant minds,
Rewinding back to a time rich with honor,
Horror reaching back, tongues still lashing,
Laughing with them inside a green sphere,
Here is my home, but where is Here?
Phantoms fade in and out then sway in the wind,
The raging fires subside in the morning dew,
The Earth beneath me is now above, what now?
My spirit is left in the trees back home,
Stashed away for 12 days till the new year.
At 11:03 on that day and on each to pass,
Every 12 hours, a knock, a haunting despair,
Everywhere at that time at once to Self,
Three drops to catch to prove that I care,
The blinking wonderful eyes of my Elf.
To gaze inside hazel crystals is my bliss.
Lips still to steal or to let be for me is death!
Half of me but no half to share, taken by eyes,
Silly to show pity slowly devolving into infancy,
Faster, faster I run, not to hide, search, or beg,
No, slow I am, too slippery this fish is to stay.
My world doesn’t belong inside my head,
It stands without me below it’s grasp,
Above I march, falling once returning
But once below, my flame stops burning.
It may take a step or two or three,
To remind me why I march onward,
Chasing the sunrise every morning,
As The Fool cries out “You Coward!”
Is it right then, for me to look back?
The half of me standing alone weeping,
Back there where I once gave a damn,
Pleads to keep promises worth keeping.
Acknowledged and ignored, hypocrite!
Stupidity! Stupendous superstitions!
It makes me ill to even think of it.
To be one with a dying half again,
Now there Is something to ponder.
By chance oneness is possible today,
Infinitesimal possibilities to weigh.
Baroque abandoned compassion fleeting,
A wish tomorrow was granted yesterday,
Before the distention distracted meaning,
Today it is more so a leaning chair outside,
Topsoil tapestries elaborate more clearly,
This feeling that eats at my spirit denied!
Freedom! Briefly, anyway, where to?
Free domination, incarcerated, damnation,
Confined again by Earthly cells and terms,
Congratulated for becoming obedient,
After only learning how to use chaos.
Spears and spells mock my intuition.
Fix my bed, shave my head, call me yours,
I am mine, my own mind, me and I so there!
Do you see how easy it is to forget something?
To dance away in this dream of equations?
To dream up equations to explain one thing?
One idea gives birth to another immaculately,
As if to tell us that this can be that and so on.
Think. Thinking, believing stones don’t break.
Imagine, if you Will, a quiet place unmasked,
Virgin footsteps pounding bleakly, awakening,
The other eye winks at a passerby obliviously,
Idioms and synchronicities stretching the nerves,
A flash, dispatching chemicals, realization,
Is this what nirvana is like? What next?
These feet don’t dare to tread those waters.
Murky at best, be lest detested and endured.
Adored by others, not me, I pass it for more.
The Fool, I am. I am a fool for saying so.
Foolish indeed to believe in these things.
Even more so foolish is to even Believe.
So much to undo, too much to be seen,
Scrapings so scathed and pure white,
Think I might even make a call tonight.
Coming out of my shell, resurrection?
Maybe. Who knows but the wise hero?
Where would he be in time of need?
What if? Maybe, he is actually She?
Slithering into my beloved Sergij!
How dare she! But welcome, she is.
Will a book teach me? Will seven?
What lyceum lies beyond that epistle?
Float back in time to another worry,
Save this for scrapbook entry quotes.
In ten years, tell me what you think.
Because my confusion is meandering.
Imagination is there for one wink,
Then gone again, fumbling at return,
Tricky, shifty little nasties pricking,
Adding to the chaos’ impending rise.
The simplest things, indeed, do get lost in Hell.
Troy L. Coots, published 9-23-08
Unknown "★Cooter!★" Carefree
- 16 years, 12 days ago
