Visions Off The Wall

The mighty minute of the leisured blue world, as I walk to explore, there ascends a broader highway, the planks build nearby, with three men lining its balcony and singing “What do you do wrong?” Shadows seal the key passage, it is the end of the line, it is a judgement to which I can’t say no, I cannot deny it here. But an escalator emerges and carries me off to shore.

A sandstorm filled the wind, strongest in its first fifteen minutes. The hit started swaying alongside the magnitude of the wind, the house in which I went became more susceptible to drifting. Time needed to be drugged with Prozac or some seizure medicine, the ground emerged from beneath the ground, the manic hour began drizzling, sizzling gawking all over the places, sporting roars of gust, the planks began to tear in the anterior and started imploding, the wood blocks started to tear and fly toward the ramparts. People walked and ran, fast, fast, hatefully fast, speeding, exploding thru a reality of corrupt glory, a dark glitter beating in the doorway, zigzagging through each corner, coarsely runny time, grenades exploded, guns were fired from outside the house, I began to trundle like a stone, wheeling myself to find a way out, I could hear shrieks outside- a man’s. I tried to trap a squall before rushing to save others, people bawled, people sniffed or was that a hallucination within the hallucination. Punches lapped, a body flew in thru the downward, the sand entered my eyes, and I was irritated, quite literally. I could feel the pain that arises when the person most close to you is done in the dark, wherein that person palely shines, with a halo, and phantoms escaping to subway walls, the bells toll in supermarkets. The roof hatted the ground soon, everything tumbled, guns had been shot, bombs exploded consecutively and simultaneously, I had to escape. “I’ll miss knowing you forever, you were my life, my most recent adventure” I closed my eyes so I could be awake and see the relics of it, the survival. 

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It's all a matter of rust and shine, to serve a distinction between to have and to have not.

70 thoughts on “Visions Off The Wall”

      1. Hmmm. Wow. I wrote this with only two thibgs that were vivid from a dream- that line and the scene. The descriptions were an additive, but that line was true yet I don’t remember who I said it to. Knowing would solve a problem, huh?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Nah-don’t worry so much a wise guy once told me 😉 doesn’t matter. Or does it? That is up to you…

        The image of war, losing those close to you—all the turmoil-you paint quite an scene—is it just a hallucination? Someone else commented Afghanistan…

        And then the idea of missing someone—“I’ll miss knowing you forever…”. Dang! That is how I feel about my husband! I know we will both one day be dead—and I’ll miss him. Yeah-that line really struck me. To love through the pain.

        Liked by 2 people

      3. I was never in a war! I’m too young!! Consequently, yes this was a hallucination and I don’t t recall who I professed my life to. That sucks a little.

        Liked by 2 people

      1. I liked it! I just didn’t get a chance to properly look at it and absorb it. I haven’t given this latest one the time it deserves yet either… Thank you for your kind comments about my last poem, I hope you didn’t feel you had to say you liked it??!! 😂

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Wow that was action packed like a dream. I had a dream once like this and remember the feeling of hot air and flies coming at me I had just entered a small room with a rocking chair and my mother was sitting there rocking. Dreams like this stick with us don’t they? I thought so much of it I sought out a dream reader and he said that I was uncovering skeltons from the past and he was spot on I was and did. This felt like that dream felt to me and still does. Excellent action I could see it in my mind. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I think our dreams give us clues of things or insights to maybe deeper thoughts and feelings we aren’t aware of. At least in may case they are. 🦋Especially when I remember them so vividly. 🦋

        Liked by 1 person

      2. You have given WP fresh writing and reading for me. I like getting lost when I’m creating and I love when writers and artists flow with me in this beautiful creative space. I’ve never had someone say they cherish my presence anywhere so I’ve been sitting with that all day! Thank you I needed that. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Poet, I am following what you said was the genesis of this piece: a dream, a statement and some additives. So I am just following this and accepting it, of course.

    The statement, though, Poet: “I’ll miss knowing you forever, you were my life, my most recent adventure” I read as your addressing yourself. Just about everyone else in this dream is wiped out or fleeing. There is nobody else to whom to address this. And there are more than one person in each of us. You seemed to have been addressing you.

    What part of you and for what reason now only you know, Poet……….Of course, I could be mistaken and not in my senses……………Sarah

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That address was to myself, I’m 60 percent sure. But NZ suggests that perhaps it was to someone else, I can’t be certain. True, everybody was fleeting and there remained once again only myself except maybe a few memories to show me a ghost.


      1. It seems you have to list it in a bulletin manner, since I didn’t draw it out. Sorry. 😋

        But affording to me, my best works were;
        Opening Sequence: Eternity…
        Endless Catches in a Hundred Arrows
        Get Idle
        and finally, Agony Fiend

        Liked by 1 person

  3. No, of course not. Not terribly good form to turn down the request of a poet. Not safe

    The question is a little loaded, Poet. Best for whom? I think it was MM who noted how interesting it is that everyone is seeing different things in your work. And I am sure I have noted that your mind, language and daring are vast enough to have us all picking off what suits us.

    That said……….., Poet,

    It will take me a little while because I have to think about the why’s (wise?) too. And I need to be careful, Poet, because I don’t want the Muses to come threatening me because I got something wrong and upset you.

    When I am done, I’ll post the image of the Muses. HM Queen E II has sent a magnificent image of the Nine here from London in time to remind me to be careful with your request. Poet.


    Liked by 2 people

      1. It will take me a little while yet. Summer is calling me away from the little screen and the Muses stayed my hand publishing any image of themselves……….

        until I recalled their great pupil first, Orpheus, whose roses, on the point of coming into bloom here, which have called me out of doors………..

        And why all this, Poet? Because I read you poets and have to hedge myself about against too much of the magic of your words…………..


        Liked by 1 person

      2. Poet,

        I am answering the question that you posed me.

        Difficult as the question is because I am not a poetry professional. But I do love the form and live with it and thank the Muses to whom I paying homage on this occasion for all of you into poetry!

        No big exegesis then of the kind that a professional would provide. I don’t think life has a meaning (it just is in my view); but I understand that poetry has all the purposes of life and these are extensive and complicated.

        Nor have I read your last two pieces but will.

        That said, there are always the two basics: the form (style) and the substance.


        I can say this:

        1. In December 2018 and January 2019 – which, that I can see, are your earliest poems on this blog – you published 8 pieces which were outstanding because they appeared to me to be coming out of your lived experience. These tend speak to both the intellect and the heart.

        As did also Ululating Passage where your mind seems to have been in very disciplined focus!

        Lived experience and it is not I who is saying that poetry needs to spring from this. It is poets.

        Lived experience of which there are two kinds: for real in the world; and as translated by the imagination. All of it fit to be shared whether it is about a favourite cat or the ineffable.

        Fit in the sense of: it can be understood as communal, common cause, of common interest, of common urgency, of common something or other.

        I hope, before I continue, that you agree, Poet……….

        The 8 I found outstanding are:

        That Special Search for Ubiquitous Uniqueness; Finishing Striations of 2018; Abstraction as a Condition; Amidst a Dream; Waste Alchemy; Funk Beauty Dream; When Life Imitates Harm; and the Inn of Sweet Expression. And also in early February, Diamantes Rheidol.

        “Why am I young for all the good stuff?” you ask. Good stuff comes with living…… Not only, of course. I know you know this, Poet! But which of us cannot identify with a question like this. And empathize and imagine!

        “You’re good”, you say in Diamantes Rheidol. “That’s never so hard and yet it goes abysmal in all the great phases of the heart”. Exactly, Poet. The phases of the heart don’t go abysmal with age (when it comes to poetry, at least!). And practice.

        3. After February, there are flashes of substance which I can grasp. I think.

        Water Catches Your Eyes of the 31st March. That ended with a command/request which was perfectly understandable because every line above can be imagined. Saccharine of the 22nd of March. “I’m on my own now,” you say. Always, Poet.

        Twentieth Hour of May 5th: a little pearl of insight.

        Aftermath, Backwash of April 2: diamond strength, Poet. Appears to be an intuition of the future. Yours.

        Substantial I think also – did I say this already? – in I Like The Way The World is A Little Older of May 14.

        4. But some aspects of poetry are always hard for the ‘simple’ reason that some parts of human life are floating there…… beyond words because the ego doesn’t care for the words, really.
        That which the tongue does not reach. As in Merwin’s Heartland which I posted. The Greek gods killed Orpheus for relaying what this is. Rilke driven by it. Many others….

        Reachable or not, many of us are relying on the confirmation of poets for the value of our understanding why these aspects are there and what they are and so what?

        5. And after the beginning of the year, you seem to have decided to experiment more with form (style).

        Fine. Anything that gladdens people is good and right.

        You can see yourself the large increase in readership from the Spring of this year on and how many people adapt this and that which you are saying to their own lives.

        Whether that is what you meant or not and sometimes, see for yourself, you meant something else and say so.


        Form (Style)

        Heady, Poet. The headiest I have read in a long while. Intoxicating and needed because there is a lot of dross in this world.

        There is nothing amiss with exuberant style whose content I do not understand because I like words. I love them.

        But it is like champagne to me and I can drink only a little of it. Meaning, interpretation is everything to me.

        That said: I have read Opening Sequence: Eternity of May 2 more than once. And Jump of April 10. And Peyote of March 30. Kerouac’s Cognac is my favourite of these whose meaning is floating on the edge of my understanding.


        Just what I can say, Poet. It is not important what I say. Not. You really must do as you will.

        But thanks for asking. Any hope of getting the view of others reading you and, especially, thoe who write themselves?


        Liked by 1 person

      3. So, Opening Sequence Eternity
        and Kerouac’s Cognac

        Thank you for the deep trenches of insight into my work. I truly exalt in your support, and I do beleive examination is the exaltation of man. So, Thank you immensely. 😊


  4. This line of yours blew my mind away that I’ve never read it this way the way you expressed it.

    “Time needed to be drugged with Prozac or some seizure medicine”.

    A dreamscape of wonders and pure hallucination of artistry that really does send the reader
    into your world that I would like to live in and get lost in it. 🙂 Genius!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I think I missed this comment of yours. Anyway, thank you Charlie!! I’m awaiting your next piece in the despondency anthology.


  5. This is quite the ride!!
    ‘Trapping a squall’…so many fascinating images.
    The desperation and pain is palpable.
    And to feel that closest to you murdered… that must have been agonising, and exhausting?

    So intriguing, Watt, to say the least. 😲

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m so sorry I missed this comment…I haven’t been getting all of my notifications, and then we were away for a few days.
        You are very very welcome! 🙂
        And I am quite well, thanks. How are you?


  6. Watt, this piece is gorgeous. Nothing new. All your pieces are gorgeous. What strikes me the most is the expression of duality: “Shadows seal the key passage, it is the end of the line, it is a judgement to which I can’t say no, I cannot deny it here” You do that beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I have thoughts on this piece, but think I’ll keep them to myself. I realize that sometimes woo woo stuff can make people uncomfortable 🙂 So I’ll just say that it’s going to be one of your poems/prose? that I carry with me. It’s that significant.

    Liked by 1 person

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