Original Poetry – T.S. Deary

The sum total of the problem is that I see right through the pictures and all of those smiles, oh! those smiles, the painted on lips!

I remember all that you told me and I remember how you said it and most of all I remember how you cried.

You say he loves you like no other and then you post the pictures to prove it, there is nothing beneath that pedestal you stand on, only the temporary high of self affirming likes and reactions, until the screen goes dark.

(then you look for the next “spontaneous” moment to exploit)

So begins the cycle of looking for attention and then watch it fade away, it is so exciting, but like all highs it disappears and dime away so you have to chase it again and again.

(get the angles right for this latest testament to self) 

The simplest and oldest form of worship, looking back at yourself, forgetting the image is only a picture taken in the middle of the emotions you run from, in this world of smoke and mirrors there is neither fire nor reality, there is no now, there is only then.

Just let me be, don’t hold me close and then let me go, just let me be, never closer, never further, you just come and go as you please, I am not dead nor am I dying but you proceed to put me up for sale, you come and go and come and go and all that you once said is no longer true, runanway, steal away, take my breath away, pretending all the while that you don’t even his me.

So just take your selfie, so your hair and face, smile for the camera, pretend that you are what you are not really are, I have never forgotten those teary eyed conversations about all those rejected feelings, how he resisted your advances, maybe you made a mistake, not really meaning those vows and how it now needs to be all undone…..

Only now you smile and praise him and say how you can’t live  be without him and how wonderful it all is with him but don’t forget that I know better despite all those pictures you use to tell your fabled story.

Endless poses, well rehearsed selfie portraits that paint neither reality nor your best qualities up close they are as invisible as your regard for truth…..
 “depends on others for constant infusions of approval and admiration…..” C. Lasch 

 T.S. Deary P.A.F.M

I dreamed the strangest dream, of a city street I have never seen and with thoughts running through my head like a swiftly running stream.

Nervous, disoriented, walking as if blind, only one streetlight to light the way, casting long shadows as if the sun had stayed in one place for too long for a star of its kind. 

(a whisper reaches my ears)

I am not alone, in front of me is a woman, her weight shifted onto one leg with a hand on her hip, she is wearing a dress, a coat, a black hat, curly hair spreading out around its bottom.

Her dress is white and short, a vague and enticing feeling of realization begins to form words on my lips.

Her face is covered by a high and fluffy collar that almost hides her eyes, she peeks at me above it and their outline is visible, the two of us exchange a look as if by some mental mirror spy.

Partially behind her stands a shorter woman, her weight shifted forward, leaning on an umbrella, wearing a black coat, smiling, her head cocked to the side.

Still further into the distance is another woman, framed in by a lonely streetlight, she stands confidently, her weight distributed evenly, smiling a knowing smile, knowing she could never try to hide it.

Her smile tells me she knows me and that I know her and indeed I do know her as I know them all, they are the same person, at different times and now their forms are no longer a blur.

All are an image of my beloved and the street they stand on are where we are and where we have been and where we are going, all three tell me they speak my language as if they need me to understand so I listen quiet and curious, attentive and there is no coersion.

Then first woman speaks and says that she is whom we once were, when we were young and confidently naiive, when we were cocky and full of promise, now we still are those two but now full of maturity and exoerience , we have come far and will go farther, to numerous places only our hearts can concieve. 

They second woman speaks to me from behind her high collar, she tells me that she is what we once feared not to know, her collar obstructs her face but not her words, substrates that I can only see her eyes because the future is unknown and can’t be spoken of until it is coming close, she speaks to me of how it once was, how it is and how it will be, my children are reflected in her eyes, real and standing there too, she calms me, lifts me up, tells me not to go against the streams’ flow.

The woman with the umbrella smiles at me, reminding me of how we have laughed and smiled, starting out so young we laughed a lot and then there were times that we did nor, darker times when nothing made sense and then we were really blessed with a child. 

By the streetlight the woman speaks soft words because she carries my heart in here and I am no longer confused, her words whisper to me, you are my beloved and I am yours, when the morning g broke through the window i awoke with joy – amused…..
T.S. Deary 

Constructed empire of solitude, now an empty home, picture covered walls,

Momemtos of past moments, now so quiet and subdued. 

A dimly furnished room, reminders of childhood days now long gone.

Memorial rooms all about ghuosts, they make their way through the surrounding gloom. 

I have come to make my visit, returning to old times.

Conversations take me here and take me there. 

There is nothing wrong so please don’t ask “what is it?”

 He speaks words of criticism, framing careful opinions.

He’s knows them well, his view from behind that same old prism. 

This visit is an interruption of that solitude, a chance to shake off the dust and air out the house.

Carefully avoiding anything of any magnitude.

Old man look in my eyes and notice the reflection. 

Notice the image drawn there so close to your own complexion. 

You speak of gratitude, extended hand and slight grin.

I bite my tongue and do not reveal anything of any magnitude.

T.S. Deary 

She can be found in numerous places always wearing beautiful faces. 

Well acquainted with the mirror but never able to see any clearer.

Touching to entwine her limbs, mouthing words to seductive hymns.

Lives a life enmeshed, never any impression that she is depressed.

Listen, she says “come with me”, think how majestic we will be! 

Then the vision grows faint, never allowing for any complaint.

Unalterable belief in her own worth, the golden child blessed from birth. 

Smiling portrait of self, masks carefully arranged on the shelf. 

Clever arguments and comments, portrait of torment.

Movements draw attention, her lifeblood is temptation. 

Confident charade, who in parade, storms along the dark horizon, tension rising.

She will drag you down and in that mess you will drown…..

T.S. Deary 

The road rolls on in undulated hills,

all the way to the summer sun. 

dreamscape inspiration for when this day is done,

fading storms, their fury stills,

slow paced passion of sunsets,

this summer plays out in the passage of time,

this day like me is in its prime,

unwinding feeling, no regrets.
Mother cat and kittens,

playing in the tall grass,

they are acting out their day just as it written,

young girl herself growing watches them through the door of glass,

they don’t see her, her presence is well hidden,

these two worlds interact from the door of glass,

to their playground in the grass…..

T.S. Deary 

See all photos here: “https://www.amazon.com/photos/share/GNRaKY6beHdUuREFrl1nyBkwKJlkG5A1P9QdQwc8tny”

See all photos here: “https://www.amazon.com/photos/share/54gFWnGMDlI6nGgrKzqrQRwAnpk8wQySwviq8XwFmMU”

Dennis was my childhood freind. Despite not seeing him in quite a few years I have never forgotten the times we spent together as I am sure everyone who knew him and spent any amount of time with him will say. When I heard of his death it hit me in my soul. My heart felt as if a piece of it had been taken away for ever and the news has put a shadow across my soul for a few weeks now. Like Dennis, I have a deep and abiding faith in God and from that I have taken a vast amount of comfort. The reality that he now resides with God is the greatest comfort of all. 

I cannot fully comprehend the magnitude of the loss his wife and children have to now confront and I pray that they will find peace and comfort over time. Dennis was very proud of his family’s and rightfully so as they are beautiful and will carry his legacy with honor and pride. 

One of the best memories I have of the times I spent with Dennis was swimming off the dock behind his parent’s house. There were many summer days spent swimming and fishing and sharing each others company. His parents and siblings were wonderfully hospitable people who were most welcoming. Those days are long gone but they have never left my memory. I am thankful to have shared them with him and they comfort me now. 

Peace freind. You will be in my heart forever. 

T.S. Deary 

P.A.F.M.

Now comes the quiet time.

When you eat your heart out from the inside, deep breaths and long nights,

obsessive thoughts of redemption for your crime.
Then come the silent days when no one wants to know her name,

the silence is almos as loud as your regret,

then the resolution to change your ways.
circular motion.

Planetary alignment.

Emotional consignment.

Preferential emotion. 
Now back to the friends who turn their backs,

turning their backs away from you,

they turn their backs to whisper and then the fateful kiss.
Then come the lonely nights,

anxiety and pale moonlight,

abnormal  shadows along the wall,

hope for morning in the armour of this fallen night.
Time comes,

redemption appears and then disappears,

only time remains.
T.S.Deary 

P.A.F.M.