Because no other methods of categorization seemed appropriate, poems are listed by year, beginning with the most recent. The number below the year is my approximate age at the time. Poems date back as far as 1975 (14 years), so please be gentle with me in those earlier years. I was discovering solo the joys of expression on paper.

It is my sincere hope that you find something here meaningful to you. Sometimes just knowing someone else has felt this way, or that way, is enough to keep us plodding along the path. I encourage comments and questions concerning the work here, and would be honored if you took the time to drop a line.

Please check back often, as poems are still being entered on an almost daily basis. Thank goodness my fiancée is a good typist *s*

Please Enjoy, and Peace to you,
Sharon Angleman-Goodson

My Prince
Come out to Play
( A Duet)
Untitled Still
I Know You Now
Disillusioned Angel
Ungrateful Wishes
A Question of Place
Pretended Truth
Tomorrow's Dreams
Response to a Poem
Stupid Computer Screen

A Bad Drug
The Cleansing
Cheshire Grin
Old Kisses
The Poet
Bryan's Song
A Lullaby
Without a Name

Guardian's Knowledge
Desynthesize The Sand
The Box
Dream Forever
A Dying Dawn
The Snowflake
Of Rearing
An Adult Child
The Pine Tree
The Humble Abode
Life's Paradox
Living Death
My Time - A Suicide
The Ward



You have been my mate all of my life.
Yet you have dreamed on my pillows
   for scarcely two weeks.
It has been a whirlwind.

It has been hectic.
It has been sensuous.
It has been exciting and revealing.

It has been natural.
It has been a miracle.
It has been a lifetime's fulfillment
    and a dream come to life...

Something you do...
    make dreams real...
Give empty syllables
       meaning and truth..
Give spiraling thoughts
    ground to land...

Elusive, faded wisps of memories
   disseminate into the past
Serving no more
    than obscure divergence
To finally bring me safely here...
    leaving only you...
To know the warmth of my skin
    to feel the touch of my hands
       to hear the breadth of my words
From the bottomless depths
   of my once bittersweet soul

No harrowing, thickly verse
    left to seep from my fingers,
Only clear and sparkling clarity
   of a peaceful past cemetery
    etching to meet today,

Fantasies crystallized into futures
   of which each precious moment I long...
      begging more than my deserving share ...
That I may have time to tell you
    what you mean to me...
       how much I love you



In life, in love, in all we know
Does something yet remain?
A voice unheard,
A sight unseen,
A rhythm to the rain.
A deeper realm, another choice,
A place to go to quiet the voice
of silent screams,
and ghost filled dreams,
that touch the light of day.

In hopes, in prayers, in lover's eyes
A balance must be found.
A hand to hold,
A touch to feel,
A softly whispered sound.

I love you dear, forever more.
Today is but an open door
To all we'll be
Just you and me,
Won't you come out to play?

©awg 4/2k
Saga reply

You are the one,
The sight that I've seen,
The humming rhythm,
To the raindrops gleam

That touches light of day

In the furthest realm
The voice that I hear
Falling quite old cries
With every tear

That touches waves of day.

The light of my night
A hand cupped in mine
A balance of knowledge
The sound in my rhyme

You bring forth
The sounds of the day
Forever you call me
   to come forth and play
And Forever, my love,
I will stay.



Enshrouded by enfeebling darkness
   the child sees, but does not feel
Shadowed blankets upon her body.

The hammered beating of her heart
   a frenzied lullaby
       coaxing tearless eyes to sleep.

Slipping into dreams too deep,
She pretends recall of sunlight rays
   but knows the ancient, distant heat
Teasing cord-chaffed skin
             to blistered meat
While basting long-left bodies
   birthing fetid, heavy fever.

She whispers thought,
   but does not speak
Of a place where dainty crystal sounds
   come not from frozen spirits' frowns,

Fermenting reason
    into refuged madness
Fostering illness
    into perverse sadness.
Where flesh of tender bended knee
   bears no gritted graveyard seed,
A place where only angels sing,
Where worlds are born from poets' dreams,

Where forever's secrets may unfold
   into gardens sewn of love's pure soul....



I know you now,
   In spite of dignity thought lost,
And not withstanding formed failures elapsed.
In defiance of copper
    cast in ravaged ravines.
I feel the embracement of radiant rapture.

The alien sensation of my spirit unchained
Gives swell to euphoric waves
       of freedom's delight
Livening currents of breath,
       dulled from impervious air
I breathe the sumptuous
               of us.

Through the dark, tunneled sight
    of legacies lived
By means known only
    to prey of the damned
In virtue of luminous liberation of sage
I see salvaged ascendment of wings.

Unyielding to ghosts
    guarding barred dowry chests
Forsaking the stillness
    of Morpheus' mourning
Validating a dream suspended by veil
I touch webs silken soft now with gold.

Once bruised and degraded,
    floating gulfs of despair
Contemptuous voices
    urging disgardment of drive
Washed out by resounding entrancement
I hear purring of honey dipped whispers.

In a world made of magic
    through fingers of rhyme
And through eyes brimming
    with tender and passion
By virtue a clarity given soulful by heart
I know truth and harmonious treasure.

For I know of you now and forever.

© 7/2k


Spread full
I see your wings
Abundant in glistening plumage
Catching flaxen beams of moonlight
Rimmed with the sapphire
             of a distant haze

Lain unconcealed
I see your heart
Open, urging dancing rhythmed beat
To trust in verdant vellumous courtyards
To climb smoky mountains
             of crumpled velvet.

Echoing downy
I hear your whispers
Humming promises of Eden's gardens
As butterflies scrawling poetry in the air
Of melodious, perfumed verse,
             to kiss my ears.

Trembling quietly
I see my ghosts
With lanterned-eyes of hollowed green
Thundering ominous bellows of sentenced creed
Where tarnished tufts
          waft sloven, stale webs.

Where perilous phantoms
oath the pillage of dreams.
Praying softy I seek the strength
To reflect reveling wonders of your essence
So unsoiled and sheer,
             a shimmering moonfall

To resound veiled auras, at most shadowed by you.



Betrayal of his trusted friend
Who once proclaimed and still pretends
Illusions saucy thick with mist
A rebirth from the great abyss
Assuming pearls are 'thrown at swine'
That he is never to be mine

How dare a fellow poet try
to twist clever quill to alibi
A shadowed ghost by own design
weaving eternal worlds
through structured rhythm
disregarding dreams
he holds deep inside
as foolishly gold
and sexual demise

Never once was a truth
exposed from her lips
A "unified cord" was only a myth
What lies there right now
is nothing more
Than what others see
in Hade's own whore

A glorified angel, she will never be
Not in this life or in fantasy
For angels cast no cunning smiles
While wishing others to ashen piles.

No "frozen metal" here to touch
Just pearls and light
that mean so much.
Yes, souls in question still intact

No choices made need find retract.
Yes, her own cord so cleanly cut
From "love" and trust, to hate and smut
Choices made beyond bridges burned
Looks like poor 'angel' missed her turn.



I feel
   my heartbeat.
I feel
   energized heat from my body.
I feel my flesh
   and hear my breath.

I do not feel
the sting of tears behind my eyes,
   when my father abruptly dies,
or when his wife fills ears with lies
    (and bruises thighs),

or when my plane no longer flies.

I feel my heartbeat, but not my heart.
My body, it seems, is the only part
to know of emotion through sex and demise,
to know of belonging entangled with cries.

I feel
   when a lover is gone.
I feel
   with an origin all twisted and wrong.
All the needy and swallow, and never too long...
   a tune without song...

I feel my heartbeat.
I long to feel my heart.



I thought about you late today
And saw you in sweet slumber.
I could see you question the touch on your cheek.

It was I
Who brushed a silken strand from your eyes,
And hushed the silence of repose treading through
your somnolent world.

I saw slight movement on your face
As you wondered
at the warmth of breath
on your lips.

It was I
Who kissed a sleeping Prince
In hopes of an invitation
Into your dreams.

And so you did
And I rested in your arms
Until slatted sunrays woke me
to remember
my winged and gratis journey

To where you are
So far away.



But who am I that I should ask
Of promises through times of past.
I want your heart, your passion's soul
The spirit, body, the mind, the whole.
But you I can not pull inside of me...
Or banish that which makes you breath
To covet this would surely be
       ...and mocking
A lifetime of character,
Rendering lessons of pain...
In vain

I would yearn for you to see
Your memories only with me
My heart the only you've kissed,
My soul - the only you've missed
For all the times and lives gone by
And all the future destinies
But oh, such fate, it is not so.
How was I to ever know?
My love would be so selfish...
     The prejudice of my own wish....
To replant the seeds you sow
Would only bind you as you grow

Forgive me.



Deliverance by tattered angels' wings,
Or so in verse, it so painfully seems,
To be of an entwining, spherical theme.
My plume floats through the air
    with still the others first there...
Begging the question of dreams
Is love for my being
      or inspiring flight
Bringing thought to theme
on downy quill's lone night
Cords lace though some
Others tie undone
Still fewer wrap strands around you
A passionate author once wrote,
     (he pumped reversible moats),
"Love is not to be picked apart   
     or scrutinized too closely."
So I impose jealous in heart,
Crying through feathered-ink art
Surrounded by faces so ghostly.
I Intrude into realms I'm now part of...
    ...And entities crow,
         "You really should go,
There are places you need not explore
The lake is their own,
    not for your soul to roam
Shut quiet the door...
    To the cabin....
You do not need...
           to be here...."
I scream through my tears,
"This can not be true!
I have known of this touch for all years!"
I tremble to hear
    of a love save and clear
Then I weep for displacement of fears.



I will go then
Without you

I will learn to love again
but in a manner gentle to the heart

I will make love
   and learn to embrace it
      for the sake of the act itself

Never again will my spirit groan
    in united pleasure
       of being one and whole
          with you.

As it was when our bodies
   met in passionate tremors

Our heartbeats thumped in rhythm
   Steady and Balanced
      through shared and fevered blood
Spinning light in our heads
All thoughts, all
And whole.

When I make love again
   I will know only me
      and my body
         carnal and alone
My mouth will cry in pleasure
My heart weep silent in grief.



No love is known within a heart,
   until it's surrendered, every part.
Give it all up to the one who you love,
Put trust in the hands
       of the One from above.

Then get ready

For the price that you pay,
The pain you feel each and every day.
I will only be left detached and alone,
Violently ripping the marrow
       through every bone

If they do not fail you, they you will fail them
Out of twisted need or fantastic whim.
Once momentum is found, it is never the same,
Bolted tight is the door from whence you came.

So get ready

The poet in no way can give up his hope.
But the lover inside lets go of the rope.
Falling and falling with nowhere to land,
Forever the tears number grains of the sand.



Tomorrow’s dreams began yesterday
While shadows loomed
and hopes were doomed
Red-colored faith and tender kisses
Of sweet perfection from tender soul wishes

Tomorrow’s dreams were packed away
In a tear dampened chest
which rusted closed
Muffling out restless sounds of dying embers
of purpose, and love proposed

Now naked of image and desire for the future
Dreams ominously held tightly
the visions of night
confirming heart’s scars
and reaching for stars
making larger the fissure
as they curve out of sight

Yesterday’s dreams held a future of past
Beginning with diamonds
reducing to coal
Reverting through vortex
events from the orb
As a snake on it’s tail,
twas a heart on it’s soul

Then I met with my future,
the source of my light
Hearing music of angels
in soft symphonies
Resounding of hope
from the heaven's bright stars
Revealing truth and a path
of love's destinies

Tender, gentle fingers
traced tear streaked eyes
A touch strummed and teased
a dusty golden cord.
Lifting songs of feather grace,
to a wondrous place
Where darkness and grief flees
from Precious Prince's sword

Today’s dreams are shining
with bright glowing glimpses
Of Tomorrows in glory
and grants of all wishes
Unrestrained by the shackles
or boundaries of fences
No more tracking back time,
or the fate of near misses

The rusty damp box
has returned to the soil
Giving life to new blooms
and preventing further spoil
Since the Prince of My Dreams
came and showed me the way
Tomorrow's’ sweet dreams
are now lived in today


(Companion Poem to Stained Glass)

I sit silently in this room.
Walls of graying stone
    and dying mortar...
Damp and seeping moisture,
Tears tracing laggard trails
   through mired clefts,
       the products of age
And heedless neglect.

Silence echoes thunder in the mind
    to become an overpowering roar
Past voices gutter sleeping memories
    of those who, long ago,
      were inside this place...

I breathe deep to feed my lungs,
   to clear my mind...
      but none is disentangled...
Sluggish air used too many times,
   too long ago...
chokes my dry and swollen throat,
      and sends my heart into
Rapid retaliation.

I close my eyes
   against the webbed recesses
      of my now familiar cell...
Making shadowed fog
   of the jagged, narrow porthole
      through which I see.
Making quiet the thick,
     murmuring communions
        of the past
of which I hear.

I catch a breath,
   a scent of warmth
I've known before,
In a dream, so many years ago...
I breathe deep,
   this time to rouse my lungs,
      stretching their eager tissues
          to capture each
and every particle.

I invite life into my body,
  breathing deeper and heavier
Swirling sweet,
  delicious flesh odors
within my heaving chest...

I open my eyes and rise
   from my sullied sentence chair
and see before me...


With blitheful, blinking,
  seeking eyes
I gaze...
  and drift...
like feathered wings
  on weightless air,
to embrace the enlightenment
  from the Windows.

I see latticed, gleaming light
  revealing depths of landscape
    unlike any I'd known on Earth.
Dusty-green ravines twine
  through silver, smoky bluffs
    rising high above the soil...
  high above
The common creature.

Through the Windows I see
  the sheltering mushrooms
      of treetops
stir gently from the whisper
   of warm breezes.

The sun blushes rosy-red,
  as if witness to the intertwining
      of two long-lost, kindled lovers.
It causes turquoise-streaked skies
  to fill with golden radiance,
    illuminating the lands
With the rainbow sheen
  of artist's oils
      on tranquil, dusky waters.

Through the Windows I see
  the promise
    of late summer's evening,
a time of rest
    and quiet renascence...
The hope of a new morrow
  bringing dawn's dew to dance
    like stars of water
on vibrant morning blossoms.

I feel

The dankened, clammy, air
  turn to sweet and heated breath
    on my face.
I close heavy eyes once more
    to experience
      the tender suspiration
  on my flesh,
And etch the revelations
  of the Windows
in my mind forever.

I breathe...
I touch...

I see...

A dimension of forever...
And when I raise my eyes again
Stony walls crumble into ashen,
  dying dust
Pearls of light fall
    and bounce at my feet
      and echo melodies in the air...

Into the Windows I can see
  the very essence of your being
Looking through Windows
    back at me...

The Windows
  of Your Precious Soul
     have freed me from that prison
May I gaze into Your Windows
Till a rose is no more crimson.

For Alan...
I love you so very much...



That was for me,
very beautiful...
you do so many things
                     with words.
The pure simplicity of this...
   Pure. Simplistic,
yet awesomingly overwhelming  
    beauty of nature...
You are so good...
You are loved so very much...

You are my heart's shining light
My first thought at dawn
And my last thought at night
The melody in my song
You are the mirror to my soul
And the the twinkle in my eye
Your love, it makes me whole
    And gives me wings to fly



I'm just sitting here
    pouting at the screen...
        .....stupid screen....
.....lookin' back at me like that...
     ...always getting in my fingers' way...
       ........always having the very last say...
......suckin' me in with waves of radiation.....
     .......giggling pixies point sane annihilation...
...watchin' me crumble in an funky blue glow...
    .......bouncing through patterns of disengaged snow....
...flickering faster the throbbing till my very soul screams...
        ....stupid-dumb screen...
.....I too can be mean, with my eyes in a gleam...
      ....I'll turn it's ass green.....




Here I go within
stepping into places
     where air pulses
        and breathes
musty lavender perfume…

   heavy in my lungs
        it lingers to quietly settle there.

I gasp.
Heart striking thunderous
    blows against my ribs,

A drunkards line
I wondered and wept
For that place
   where immortals lie in peace
       and poets have the power
         and tears are kissed away
before swallowed
by dankened earth.

Where ravens are illuminated gold,
     And crimson lips utter no lies
Hazel eyes turn softest gray
    to ebony fluid pools
suckling my soul.

Why are you near
      and there
         and everywhere but here?
Teasing, taunting
What I think to be me
Your eyes I can’t see
I so want to be free

To stroke your heart
    with fingertips you’ve kissed goodnight
        and lips knowing the quiver
of your sweet whispered name.

Without you it’s dark,
So unwielding
     and ponderously dark.

I grope.
Searching with open arms
      like a blind man
           seeking shelter from the pain
of empty sightless eyes.

Yours I can’t see.
I so want them to be
Inside here with me,
    making quiet the voices thick
        and leaden with blood
crying death’s somber release.

My death
to breathe musty lavender perfume
    when you are everywhere but here
wires snaking everywhere
   disseminating me

          with you…

we float but never land



Single footprints tamp a dusty trail,
No music here.
No laughter.
Only wind teasing tender ears.

Thoughtsteps of the mind,
Spending moments,
going slow
No where to go
But inward

...further recessed.

Where the roads are known
From travel alone,
A bridge through time to figment
More real to feel
Than earthly appeals,
No superficial bereavement.

Bestow the seeking, hungry soul
Wishes of flight and lover's carol.
Make all images true,
Then pray manifest You
Before the last road
is trenched
through the marrow.

It's all been explored,
With a bard prince's sword
Evoking places in planes of spirit.
An essence in quill,
But completed it's still,
Thoughtsteps which echo no lyrics.

This voyage of a heart,
Opening every part,
Must be shown
the reflect of appraisal.
So impressions fall into place,
twice harmonious pace,
Connecting thoughtsteps
to all that is basal.

The union brings that
which was dormant
To glow feverent with breath.
Revived roads are composed,
Eclipsed memories disposed,
And the hearts, to each one,
Are bequeathed.




You come to me in tides...

Surges reaching to the stars,
To the powerful, yet gentle lunar force
Which with cadence, beckons us home,
Through its glowing, ghostly beacon of life.
Pulsing and melodious, alleviating and lucid,
Reflecting and lacing brilliant crystals
Over black-velvet waters of our soul.

You come to me in tides...

Stretching forces of life and rhythm
To a shore of tranquil, utter comfort,
Possessing yet fierce power of passion,
The encompassing wave of crowning love.
Before its wake, it billows a pure and purging crest
Drowning parasitic barnacles, and filling spaces of
Spiraling, ebony undertows of darkness.

You come to me in tides...

As we stroll along the shore,
The long, spindly slanted patterns
Of our evening, moon shadows
Casts images on the sands far behind us.
Never to obscure our course ahead again,
None ever to force their murky vessels
Into the ports of our rich and bountiful sea.

You come to me in tides...

Wind filling and moving my empty sails,
Swirling and dancing of natures celebration
Through satin pastel, moonlit skies,
Awakening senses long quiet and forgotten,
And glittering dreams, once thought illusioned,
Lifting gull's wings free and unbound in skies,
Lifting me to meet your beauty in the heavens.

In tides, you come to me


A BAD DRUG (and a worse poem)

....I found my drug
don't come from no bug
  or foreign fibers in rugs
I wanna get REAL high
  soar UP through the sky
      with you by my side

Gazillions of miles
    from the frigid winter

But just keep me away
   from the rehab center...



So full of love I am for you,
Heart am bursting at the seams...
I feel the chambers aching,
                 ....and straining,
against restrictions of the flesh.
To finally break free
                 .....and flow forth
love's sweetest, purest nectar
Filling all our spaces
          in every level...
                     of the world...
And it continues to flow,
A never-ending spring,
Seeping through thirsty, uncharted earth, this dimension
     ....and in others not yet even known...
waiting for us to discover
      and set free.

saga JRILY


Candle light flickers send soft shadows
To dance amongst the memories of you.
        In quiet solitude I sit, with quill in hand,
              senses caressed by reflective visions
              swirling behind closed lids.
                    I inhale the aroma of rich, oily wax
                    -- tickling my throat, filling my lungs --
                    breathing in the fragrance of our love. longer my adversary...
Takes me back to a place,
        moments not long passed,
Where you
        to forever share your life,
        to join you in a formal union of heart and soul.

The evening was high...
        Pinpoint stars, peering curiously
        through the skylight window...
As we lay together amongst slippery bubbles
        of warm, musk scented clouds.
Like the stars above,
        Tiny flames twinkled in a circle of mirrors,
            casting illusionary, endless images of forever
            reflected by hanging crystals
            into looking glass walls.

Slowly and deliberately we began to bathe,
        purifying ourselves for each other,
   Cleansing away the ash of misbegotten fires
   and soiled, sloven memories...
Rinsing away ruinous sediments of mistrust
    and shattered hope...

With a well-lathered, feather-light sponge
we took turns dancing in tepid waters,
     Cleansing each other
      with smooth and somber passage,
           Bringing tender, graceful touches
           to every inch of flesh...

...soaping and rinsing...
...rinsing and nibbling...

at heated bodies, sparkling with a fevered,
yet gentle glow.

Our skin...appearing as dewy petals
in a soft spring shower...
    candles masquerading as tiny suns
       giving a warm light to flesh
    the teasing touch of water droplets,
       like warm raindrops,
          sliding across our bodies
          as they responded to the heavier
          but no less tender touch
          of each other's hands.
Hands wanting nothing more than to awaken
and convey total, consuming love.

Mirrors became misty from the water's warmth
    and the passionate energy
    of its enraptured bathers.
       Reflecting back, in our candlelit eyes,
       veiled images of ourselves...
An image blurred,
appearing more of one body than of two.

I pulled close to you,
    my legs wrapped about your waist
    feeling the heat from your body
    merging with my own
    and settling inside the tender aspects
    of my thighs.

Unspoken thoughts of one mind are shared
Through the mirrors of the soul
    Knowing now we are ready, we are cleansed,
    and exclusively deserving of each other.
No longer two separate elements
    or members of love,
    but one conjoined and synchronized
    bodily miracle of God...

(Please marry me...)

Moisture now from inside the soul
Seeps gently against its windows
    Glowing from behind the eyes,
    dancing softly on tips of eyelashes,

We hold tight...

(Of course I will)

...I remember the words,
whispered dreams of that night,
    A renewal of essence and innocence.
    A beginning of bonded, eternal love.
    A dance so beautiful, no quill can capture
    my own laying limp in my trembling hand

How of this will I ever write?



Once I lay drowning in an ocean of pain,
Where darkness swirled about my heart
in waves of defeat...

And still I drown,
but now...

In a love so deep and true
that to die is to live forever...

...with you...


....and here,

the silence of our ocean engulfs a single,
liquid entity...

a single cell of being...

a single,
fluent us...

...and so submerged in salt-filled sapphire,
no shadows reflect across our heart...
no tidals tug at dissolving shadows...
no fury travels spiral tows...

....and to drown a thousand deaths in your arms,
is to be blissfully alive for a thousand forevers
...with you.

©1999 Alan W. Goodson & Sharon Angleman


The illusion of love,
  so soft, tempting and alluring
Cheshire grins promising that one perfect,
  special thing
And the widow spins.
While the heart pretends

Not to notice innate, sloven moats
Or that the world around has gone gray
Lover, beware.
What's sought is not there.
The looking glass shattered from time.

Look not in the flame,
   though the image remains
In the sphere of a lone poet's rhythm.
But never a lesson is learned.
Heed slick, tempestuous lips and fervent breath
Do not be fooled.
There is no genuine,
It's only honed quill alluding to death.
It gives blood to the verse
   that poets rehearse
In their search for abiding Queen's land.

So in their delusion young lovers recite,
What they hold fondly in colander hands.
Not a thought do they give to life's natural sieve,
Or consider the end of their time.
It will come in a way that takes life away,
One morsel, one breath at a time.

Don't deceit with belief, don't believe with deceit.
Learn quickly the hollow bored hole.
Don't hope for a life, don't dare live without hope,
Seek not the adroit troll's toll.
Seek instead for no want of a soul.



I once held kisses of gold and lavender scent
Ones with exploring and nibbling and licked velvet lips,
Demanding and tender, hungered soft whisper light,
Breathless and urgent they used pulsed fingertips

With raspy, whimpering and wondrous sounds
Escaping from deep within throats,
Insistence and provocative mute invitation,
suckling and succulent...
hovering and feather touched...
Strong compelling caress

They left me dizzy and weak,
    with no sense of time
Left me moist and electric,
    as I knew they were mine.

Parched, I am parched with nothing to fill
I will miss them with aching
       till my heart finally stills.



I follow a shadow through a forest
   hosting trees of gray bones and brittle life,

      and movement of only dust.

My nostrils cry in protest

   to the oil smell of long-trodden, sullen earth

       and still I follow

A forgotten bead from a strand broken of age.

Though no other creature stir,
   I hear spirit-laden, evening voices

Promising that one perfect thing.

Soon the shadow slows in tarry
   and lefts a feathered, inky finger

       to a sky thick and heavy from air

   breathed through too many lungs.

My eyes follow the infinite, milky thread.

   Past fleeing winds over broken fields,

To see a translucent, golden sphere levitating and illuminating


       I have touched. And breathed. And quilled response

To allusiveness engraved on moist and thirsty eyes.

As I know with senses all save one
The rhythm of their song lulls

   my weary weight to rest.

The inky finger touches slowly my lids,

   closing dilated, seeking eyes.

I dream.

In and of a forest lush with shame and glory.

In a sense of place seeping truth from abreast,
   I lay on webs of softly rotting, dewy leaves

Suckling tranquil pulp of laborious seed,

   none to be ever lonely more.

I groan with spirit-laden, evening voice

   promises of that one perfect thing,

       and look away to the birthing East

But feel a soul’s lusty mate in inky West skies.



Tell me Bryan, how much you know
of secrets things from long ago

of talisman and things that fly

of promises from days gone by.

Speak of that thing which once we knew
spun webs of gold and etched diamonds blue,

what gave human beings their breath of life,

mated shaman on high with his one faithful wife.

Talk of the one thing that we know to be,
that sovereign element we flawfully see,

the one that temps fervent selling of soul

lest you know Hypnos’ bed in lone doltish woe.

So tell me sire Bryan, from hence you once came
Are there reams of stale wishes and desirous shame?

And of that one thing would you give it all

or succumb instead to the breathless fall?

alone and down
    among the mortals

        the shopping malls

            and sororities

and ribald institutions

To know my face would reveal nothing true.
We search them all before we are through.

Breath deep we embrace to espy that one thing

that gives to our words the song that they sing.

what fills your lungs
if it is not me?



My heart
Burdened of its dream

It seems
To search far past
the cumbersome weight
of now

And how
to listen through the trees

And believe
that angels really fly
and whisper


of you

to me



Sun shining down
      my face

Its life
   my force
To watch above
   My love
For you

Wherever you may be
Whatever be your name
May it be the same
      as mine



Do I dare -
     to once again expose?
only to reveal
   a more tattered,
    a little more used,
a bit wiser piece of my soul?
    it is mine.
To keep.

Lessons done well.
Time now to tutor
   the strings
      and pluck
slivers of tiny glass

From your tender fingertips
To gently kiss away the pain

That I cause.



I have a gun
    sitting right here beside me.

I've even put it to my head...
...several times,
loaded, full.
I checked.
It sucks.

To feel that desperate.
   I'm lost.
       Completely lost.

I wished I had the nerve
    to do it.
God I wished I did.
I'd see my Daddy.
But would he be there
    waiting for me?

I don't know.

Cause I don't know if he's there
   or if I'll go there.
I'm sick.
I need some serious help.

I need to take some pills,
    to help me l sleep.
Otherwise I'll fuck up.

God help me.
I know I don't deserve it.
   But please, help me.
I need someone.
     There's no one.
I've tried.

I've tried.

I've tried.

I don't want to die.
I just don't know
      what else to do.
What else there is.



(a poem resulting from vision work)  

The eagle, her eye of sharpened flint
A soul, bent
    to witness...but with sightless eyes
If, then -
      without apperception, the ego must

Heed! to the beastful cry
devoid of passion...
      but not of demand to be heard,

heard above the wafting gusts,
      the strong winds of propensity

Do no look to the moon for sight
    but yield
                         to the
opaque wing of reason, seen as shadow overhead
     And though it is not sought
It will soon be found

Do not mistake!
      the eagle's flight for freedom
But know it as the passage of perspective

Tongues will speak with fire and flame
   Hear past, to that which gives
       the kindle consciousness:
The sunned sky of open air

Do not mistake!
      the wolf's cry for pleasure
But know that it is the keen of cognizance

Two Calling Birds
Five Golden Rings



Alas! I can not dictate
To my heart, its true desires
For it cares not for futile logic
Only fuel its fires.

Why can I not just tell it
To concern itself with simply
Its soulful function to tote my blood
From fingertips?

"Ah, Fingertips!" It cries.
"Yes, fill them with blood!
Warm them fervent with thy flame!
So that in reaching for his cheek,
                   they will not consternate,
But instead,
     convey the heat
well harbored within the soul".

'No!' I deny.
'The fingers are not for endearment.
Not to spoor along his stalwart jaw.
Not to caress the soft black nape hair of his neck.

They are not to trace
    the sinewy outline of his shoulder,
Not to follow his full lips to upturned corners.
They are not to feel
    the rising swell of his chest,
Nor the valleys of his breastbone.
Not to tease the nipples if his withy breast.
Not to know the solid fleshly legs of steel,
Not the strapping vigor of his loins.'

'No, no. They are not to pull
    his warm unbridled body towards me.


They are to lead tiny buttons
    through tidy cotton flannel holes.
To fumble through yellowed letters,
    and shoo provoking ghosts.
To neatly stack the past in little colored journals.
To brush away gathered dust,
    from books that once held promises.
They are meant to hold steady the quill.
To record all that is wrong with the world.
     (And do nothing to change it).'

And the eyes will watch.
As life's fingers travel to pulp.
    Knowing no one is really there.
They are only fragments.
    Projected from wishful thoughts,
Bursting from hopeful minds.
        Unable to reach.
Each in its own dimension.
Thousands and thousands of light years away.

Faded through use...and abuse...
Images through time keep not their shape.
Distortion Prevails.

Reality Fails.

Like the dusk fondling the daylight.   
Daylight Gives.
No match for the spindly fingers
    Enclosing around its slender throat.

No, No.   
No Match.   
     It Gives.
Time to close the dawn.
In the quicksand of the Mind.

Desynthesize the Sand.



Taking flight into the room -
    circling above
waiting to pounce -
       delighted -
           and frightened
to be free

As with the dear Pandora -
she will never be able to quiet them again.
Try as She may -
       the secrets have been spoken
They will linger in the air forever
       But never land.

What I would give to love you
   as love should be,
What I would give to not burn for you
   from the shadows.
The closer I am to you -
   the hotter the passion -
      the deeper the pain -
Depart! from me -
    this need for you
Be gone!
       the desire to stroke your cheek,
       to touch your lips -
          to feel your strength -
                       in me.

Do not utter your words of need for me
         as they will stab into my heart
              and it will not heal.
Please tell me how you need me,
please tell me of your hunger for me

But do not say a word.



I will always love you
I have always loved you
Should we spend our lives together -
It would be as if at the end of my days
I had lived the sweetest dream from which
I never woke.
I would know well of His handiwork

Should I wake -
I will forever and always mourn
the dream left unfinished
And spend my days...
    and nights searching happiness
in a restless slumber of surrealism
Watching life
    through numbed and swollen eyes
Aching for the touch that never left my body
To dream of you through shackles and glass
Would be so painful...
     and grievously unfair
Through lone shadows of imagination
I would wait for you in the Kingdom.

Our souls must have been bound
By a strength so great
     dimensions could not penetrate
Because the first time you drank from my soul -
I knew how deeply I had always loved you.
I knew well
how your touch made me tremble
It was feverish...and sweet
It was safe...
     and right
We had embraced
in an eternal tailspin of ecstasy
It is devoid of reason why,
His plan can not be consummated.

It is our responsibility to do His will
and play by the rules
      set forth so long ago.
He has given us pawns for elimination
To sacrifice for the sake of King and Queen
        And don't let the dark knight come between them -
for once it has invaded - it can not be blocked -
   and others may dare not remove it -
So the King or Queen must back away

Don't let the adversary's dark Knight come
between us. We play so well together.
Let's play forever.
Let's dream together



Such a fool am I
 To watch you peer into my window
         And do nothing to stop you,
Until you have already grasped the nullity
    To find your fingers dripping,
As the solid core rests gently in your palm.
It quivers-and shrinks back-and lurches forward
                       to your touch.
The anchor of my soul shattered.
    Hear the glass twinkle . . . as it falls.
See the sunlight catch the razor's edge . . .
                      and blind.
Do not halt my hands as they dispatch
   to reclaim shards that bring forth blood,
         From my grazed and tethered heart.
Such a fool am 1, to think my hand quicker than your eye.
    Fluid crystals have shackled my limbs at sight
To expose the longing . . . and desire
                                            for no man to see.

Know I let you do this.     Didn't I?



It's dying.

The black Knight has invaded.
The queen must back down.
The King stays where he is - where he always will be.

The cancer has begun to feast on its meal.
Morsel by tender morsel
Till all that's left is a memory
of what it was.

What was it?

Another change gone by?

Does it really fucking matter?

That could be answered with an unprecedented

It matters not because this is now -
    - that was then -
Even if only yesterday.
Yesterday matters only in how it affects today
        - which it has.

Come into my parlor
said the spider to the fly.
Who's the spider
and who's the fly?

You know - sometimes
the fly does just that
- it flies

The Knight has no dawn



To struggle against an angry tide
      can wear the spirit thin -
           and down
Into the dark abyss of the ocean floor
To see creatures of times long past

They beckon with their glowing eyes

"Come join us and feel the weightlessness
        of life among thieves -
for we steal your soul and the laughter
     once put forth from your heart...
And your hope, we take as well"

"The body you own will soon collapse
The crest has taken toll
    Against the scarred and rotten pilings.
Some relief is felt when the tide recedes
But as sure as the illumination of the west full moon
       The stress will return"

"To remain afoot this wooden avenue
Will surely invite you as our guest.
   Sit down, relax and stay awhile
Your thoughts are safe with us."

Secure it may be - habitual in mind
What yonder waits beneath the bridge?
To move ones paralyzed and weighted limb
Is to silence the creatures of times long past.



As the days and nights go by
   that I do not see your face
I begin to wonder - and worry
That it is not real

I begin to question the memory
   of your touch - and lips
I begin to wonder where the tears
have come from

I'm sure I remember the first kiss
   and the last
It was you wasn't it
That turned my soul inside out

It was you that looked deep into my eyes
   and reached into my heart
      and took it.
It is you, isn't it, who still has it?


Crystals of snowfall, created in heaven, drift slowly into sight,
     As miracles in creation.  Looked upon in wonderment,
With wide eyes . . . and outstretched tongues.
          They fall silently to earth's bosom,
A blanket of brumal warmth, glisten in illumination.
          Reflecting hope . . . and peace,
Their numbers myria, infinite . . . and lonely.

Tiny booted feet trod happily their shape,
          Perfect symmetry soon displaced.
Rubber feet of porcine plows, implanting ruthless tread.
Jostling aside seraphic purity
               Against the frigid concrete lip
Created of man's convenience

It becomes a solid coal of ice . . . and mud,
         To be looked upon with distaste
                    And alienated revolt . . . and wished away.
So once again can be seen, the gray obscurity of asphalt,
Adorned in dross and litter waste of lives.

A camel butt tossed mindlessly from a passing auto
       into the mucky slush of the perfect snowflake.



Welcome to the world dear child
Your needs we will fulfill
For our job is such to see this
Just remember to be still.

We have supplied the shoes and socks
And a roof over your belly
What more one needs, we do not know
Maybe cracked wheat bread and jelly?

It is your need, and our desire
That we raise you to know discipline
When our straps are worn, and the skin is torn
Then we're sure there will be no mistakes again.

When you're away from here and you look back
You'll know it's 'cause we love you
For our love we show with sticks and stones
And words that won't desert you.



The piercing cry
Of a child
Long lost, Long forgotten
Her presence a nuisance, a blemish
On an infallible face
To live in coercion
Within the parsimonious gridiron
Of the subconscious
When the others are somnolent
And inattentive to her
You may find her
Sneaking away
To play

As an infantile adult
And scream...and shake her fists
At all who pass by
And to cry...when certain
They have all dissipated
Against the small shoulder
Of an unperceived
sophomoric adolescent

As they watched from the shadows...with insufferable scorn
By a bigoted spinster, possessing stringent, dogmatic eyes
Colorless in conception
Who knows not of such things
Or of unanimity
Within one.



The crooked pine stands tall
against the crying sky
and fading starlight
Aching for the feel of the warmth
that East brings.

It's roots shallow in the earth
in search of the source
which brings it life.

A seed born of it
lies rotting on the needled carpet
Sap oozes from it's skin
like a mother's mournful breast
longing for her young to bring relief.

It's spiney fingers hang
as arthritic joints of age
Brown and brittle through years
of use - and abuse - and neglect
As they drift slowly to soil
pausing in the moist breeze
before continuing their journey
to their final resting place

A seed born of it
Created of life - to bring life
lies rotting on a carpet
prepared of its own soul



I am what you need in your doleful life
to make it all complete.
You see, I can better care for you
than you ever knew you needed
to be quite frank, I'm a pro at this,
I've been doing it all my life.
I was given the role at an innocent age
To be caretaker of creation.

If I might elaborate
     and I know you have the time:

None of the mentors in my young life
Knew what this was all about
To care for one meant to do their best
to make themselves feel better
When anger rose and hearts were cold
their solution was ever weak
and it colored our souls and bodies
to mimic bruised, demented judgment.

I built a moat 'round my puerile mind
And tended to its needs
I was new at this, but soon caught on
to the game and how it's played.

Look out for number one -
     after all the debts are paid -
lest ye be left owing, and find yourself alone
Dysfunctional adults found comfort in my wisdom
and after all, it was my job, to make them all feel better.

Your problems are mine. I will make it such
and fix your sorrows for you.
It's my JOB you see, a GIFT to ME,
repayment for childhood trauma

Cast all your cares on me, leave your troubles at my door
For anyone who beckons, I'll promise to do you more
And please take note, my needs are few,
but they do require inspection
and the job is yours to seek these out

In this, I can not help you.



Tattered and faded curtains
touch their threads to the wind
Once dotted with daisies and violets
now gray with age and abandonment

A peeling shutter droops
by a single rusted hinge
And taps softly against the rotting wood
that long ago was structured with hope

The rusty screen door
which never shut quietly
Now stationary in silence
plays host to reclusives
Inviting them in
to a once humble abode

To gaze through a dusty shattered pane
would reveal shards of glass lying
in tired overgrown weed
Which triumphed over roses
once planted with hope

Lonely old ghosts are seated in web-covered chairs
around a dingy formica table
legs bent from the burden of the broken crock.
They commemorate in whispers
heard only by the rudimentary residents
who now claim this home

Now devoid of pigment
and all echoes of laughter
through the halls and the room
only a musty decaying mattress remains
from which behind peers
with angry bared teeth
the rodent
now ruling
the once humble abode.



Remember that grown men never cry -
Know that whoever said that cried often
And ate quiche.

Never ponder on any one thing too long -
Unless it's really worth it
It may never be worth it
It always is.

Never wish for anything you don't have -
Unless you have time to daydream
Always dream

Never make a blind jump -
Until you've first searched your soul
And closed your eyes

Never regret a bad decision -
Do something to change the results
Not all bad decisions have repercussions
There are always repercussions
Make certain that's what you want changed

Always search for the answers -
Don't always expect to find them
There will always be an answer
Sometimes it may be that there is none

Realize that the stars are too far to reach -
Always reach for them
When you grasp one, hold on tight
Know when to let go
Never let go

Remember that no one person on earth is innocent -
Always hold innocence and purity dear to heart
Innocence and ignorance and ivory is pure

Remember that 'never and can not' are vital pieces of vocabulary -
You can not be too careful, use them wisely
Never use them

Always remember who you are and where you came from -
Forget who you are sometimes

Know that a rose is one of the most beautiful things to behold -
Remember that it has thorns
Handled carefully, they will not afflict
Too much

Know that you can always talk to me -
Remember that I will always be your friend
In this there are no incongruities

Always remember fourteen.



A child is born today

a girl
so small
so delicate
so lovely

She knows the warmth of her mother's soft breast
She will learn of childhood smiles and games,
     the love that puppies give.

Does she realize she's living in hell?
Where is heaven Mommy?

For what purpose was this child born?
To learn of anguish, hatred...of pain?
Why must this child be born?
Mommy knows she's living in hell

Too bad - the child doesn't know of a lover leaving.
Mommy does.
She will learn.

She will learn of adult games.
She will learn of rejection.
Of death.

Why must this happen?
Why must children be born?
For what purpose do people live?

To learn of these things?

Puppies don't learn of these things,
   why must she?

Children are born to learn of wars...
To stab the back of a once child.
To survive - barely.
Maybe not to survive at all

Mommy - your child's lover has left her.
Maybe that's why she was found
   in her studio apartment
      with two empty bottles

one of downers
one of scotch

Is she in heaven now Mommy?

A child is born today.

a boy
so small
so delicate
so lovely
so innocent
so happy

so sad.



The purpose of one -
    to fulfill the needs of others
      if to be allowed.
My purpose - my songs.
But the songs are never heard.

Nearing the end of my second decade,
   my place not seen yet.
My place has been taken.
A mistake has been made.
My time is not yet.
Perhaps it is time to shed this life
   and begin anew -
       as an infant
with no concerns -
    shy of survival
      and love

There is no end in death,
only a new
a new purpose

To you leave my memories
To God I leave my soul



The long white halls, the crisp whit sheets
Are all part of her empty life now
The doctors, the downers, the useless minds
He said they would love, He'd show her how

Sinking in the quicksand of her thoughts
In memory of walks in the rain
Portraying a part in a silent film now
Don't believe in him, it will drive you insane

He said she'd survive without him
But look how she's surviving now
A pounding inside pleas to be free
Must these nurses hold her down?

She ain't got the power anymore
To withstand a lovers quarrel
In the world with screaming minds
Not even the power for sorrow

Immersed in a uniform of imaginary
Past the straightjacketed woman next door
Remembering two once happy lovers
But she ain't go the power anymore
No, she ain't got the power anymore

Her fair white walls begin to close
Her gown begins to turn red
A nail in her wrist may soothe her appetite
Turning the idea within her insane head

Reaching a point far beyond reality
To kiss the viper's fang
Does sanity come with death's release
Or do you sleep forever silent

And she ain't got the power anymore
No, she ain't got the power anymore


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Contact Author Sharon Angleman
Original Background by Sharon Angleman-Goodson/Literary Illusions