An Incongruity and Its Ghost (Fear-Unplugged)

I didn't really think I had the time to write a new poem for Poetics this week.  But, that said, I had every intention of submitting a piece I'd previously written, as, fear, is a subject I've written much about.

So, I delved back into the archives for that gem suppressed in time, and understood, one of these would be the choice, the chance to give, for at least this one, a new podium to release its voice.

Twenty-some odd poems read, all dealing with fear, and not a single one I feel embodies the person I am today.  It's odd, I've experienced this sensation many times before.  Digging through older poems, written many years earlier, where there's that moment, "really, I wrote this…oh, look at the grammatical decimation on display," only to chalk it up, as if it was a different version of the man I am today….

But now, having reviewed these pieces, all of which are less than 2 years old, the same bit of reprehension grabbed me by the throat, screaming…REVISE, REVISE…to which I closed my eyes, hit the back button, and ashamedly moved on to what was next.

So, here today, I am writing about fear, in a much different way I had anticipated…

The fear of who one really is…are we truly who we think we are?

Can we know for sure?

Is growth just a word used to explain away a transitional period we can't encompass fully?

More questions than answers

More thoughts….more purge

So, what is one to do?

Typically I would make a serious attempt at philosophizing my way to some logical, rational appeal…but that is not where I'm at today…it's not where I've been in quite some time…just to be honest

It is a place I care not retreat to either, despite the many moments of enjoyment such mental mulling had once produced…instead

I am exhausted, tired of the rigamarole…I fear the body shall never heal the way prayer had instructed me it would…I fear, I'll become a child of the government, resolved to stand in line, for what?

And then…what if the Government decides to abandon their own?

Or, allow for matters entirely worse?

However, I do not fear, for the sake of fear itself…

all these thoughts and positions, I willingly resolve simply as being but one side of imagination's coin…a penance the creatively inclined have historically had to bear…where the possession of a depressed mentality had often been a sign of greatness to come…yet, those types of statistics really cannot be proven…sure, for some, the ones we look up to for inspiration, but how about all the others who suffer quite similarly, yet never amount to much more than being somebody's child, someone's kind…

Yet, all of this can easily be skirted aside, simply by allowing yourself to become consumed by whatever it is that interests you…for me, it's film, it's books.  And it's art and it's poetry too, the kind that does not allow you to catch your breath or pause and reflect upon your own state of being…it's conversation about anything other than….its…

all an illusion, all a facade, one we welcome in,  kindly in cliched arms...

But the fear does not leave your simply because you are fascinated by science fiction or inkblots blurred upon the white page…no, it may seem as if it's gone, but it is not…it's hidden, but make no bones about it...it is still alive and well, just buried below the surface…and it can wait, it grows not old….no, it has all the time and is a patient bugger…a diligently patient son of...

I do not fear this though, for the sake of fear alone is foolish to embrace… for all one has to do, is open their eyes and take in all that is apparent in this world, all the misery and fraud, all the disgrace and disgust…yes, there is plenty to fear, so fearing fear, while certainly real, is not, what scares me…

No, what I fear, is just as apparent.  All the cloaks, shrouds and hoodwinks in this world can not deny what is only one slip up from reveal…it is…

stopping, and catching that unavoidable glance... into the mirror…seeing my very own face…and not recognizing the eyes that return your gaze..

for as we know…mirrors know only truth…and truth they must unveil…

And truth, in many circumstances, is the thing we both laud and fear the most….an incongruity and its ghost….


The party's pretty much in its twilight about now, however, that simply means its much easier to pick your poison from behind the bar.  Stu McPherson serves up some mean drinks, rarely known to water things down…and oh, yeah at D'verse, it's only Top Shelf.  Head on over and read about what strikes fear into the minds and hearts of the poets contributing to this weeks Poetics of Fear.