Keys: Poetry, Philosophy and Muses

By A. Palladino

Keys is an exploration of thought. A sometimes cerebral look at the taboos of humanity and the attributes that make us who we are. The beautiful and the ugly sides of being human. It is a sometimes, hard to accept look at the psychological conditions we all share and fight to keep in check. In our society we have made even the thought of some acts taboo. Some inspiration has come from current events but most come from a mind let loose to wander and explore these forbidden thoughts and fantasies. Much inspiration came from disgust in myself and of what we call humanity. Even in these I hope the reader will find some hope and solace. There is an underlying sense that we acknowledge these shortcomings and in that, change. On the lighter side there are brief bits of humor and irony along with purely fantastic muses sparked from a single untamed thought. From the dramatic imagery to the ethereal you will be taken to the edge of sanity and move beyond what is comfortable and be urged to take a closer look at who we are as individuals and as a people...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465341150

A. Palladino

(none)

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Copyright © 2011 by A. Palladino.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011912979

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-4114-3

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-4113-6

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-4115-0

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This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Intro

4:12

On A Stone

The Ones Yearning To Be Numb

Who Are We?

Green

The Clarity

Never More

Nirvana

Blue Sunday

Brother In The Dark

Entwined

Loved Seas

All The Power

Blood River

Midnight’s Demon

Murder

Nanny

Whiskey Park

Survivors

He’s Dead

Chiopi

Messiah Bob

Spiral

Virgin Black

Cemetery Quinn

Death In Motion

Yea Deep And A Noose

My Green Bowl

The Divine Gift

Discharged Deity

Eight Passings Of Prudence

To Know And To Feel

Deus

No Love

Strength

Crying Eyes

Snapped

Abstinence

Boy Warriors

Everdeep

Gyre

There Is No Heaven And Hell In Your Mind

Hark Unto Thine Own Full Moon

Nether

Good-Bye

INTRO

A tale of victory

And power and glory.

That would make

For an interesting story.

But on these pages

So fair and so clean.

On these pages

Will only be seen

The parts of the mind

So fertile so green.

So at this meadow

Which thrives in my mind.

There are trees and canyons

Yearning to be climbed.

Trees that lead us

So high in the sky

To there see the meadow

So green and so wide.

And here on these pages

So fair and so clean.

Here on these pages

You’re welcomed to my dream.

4:12

A jet silently etched

a cotton line in a vacant sky.

The forest rang

with childish laughter.

And around the fire

reminiscent hearts were aglow.

The sky hugged the forest.

The forest embraced the trees.

We were safe.

A robin,

drunk on holly berries,

staggers through the dry

late June air.

Mr. Fantasy danced in the forest.

We went on about science,

music, and people.

She wished for peace.

Don’t we all?

Like puzzle pieces,

we assembled a beautiful portrait.

We thanked,

but still the flames

lapped the first taste.

Traffic was on the radio.

My two-year-old son asked,

Where do the planes go?

ON A STONE

So I sat on the stone

sharp crag afloat,

an island in the sea.

Questioning the direction

the course that been sought.

And the sun’s assault on the horizon

slowed

bloodred and bleeding

its malevolent infestation

across the churning sea of quandary,

to my feet blistered by trod.

The seas quiver in the wake

of solemn distress and upheaval

sank my chest.

Then my eyes with ravenous duress

did flee the vicious display of yon

to the great white ships

in the skies above

blown by frigid, cursing winds

sailing east in nautical skies

fleeing too ancient monsters

from the deepening darkness

whose plenum devours even that

of our brightest star.

And surely that of ivory cloud.

The execution of night fell

with the same damp rumble

as the earth’s winter tremors.

Now the night, thick with cloak

sealed my sight and depth.

There then came a calmness like no other.

Sea, sky, and me.

Like that of void but void it was not.

For gazing at me from high above

the gods in the heavens, cursing,

looking down on my tortured soul with spite

for I question and I doubt

the life I was given

and the very gods that claim it

and thus scorn me.

I’d like to feel alive, said I.

"To know the hows and whys

of creation and of time."

Respond they did not

but of gibberish, and the vagueness

of truth in faith

the pacifying concoctions of insecurity.

Only more discerning my already

questioning soul.

But spite me they did

from their thrones of simplicity.

"So send me your torment

your forces engorged in ghastly revenge

and fell me if you must

from my island, my stone.

But my convictions will wave not

to your faltering restraint."

But the skies did not open with clamor

and fury.

The sea did not rage

and my stone did not tremble.

The voices scorned no more

retreating the wane.

Retreating the hand bloodied by ferocity.

Still was all.

Stone, sea, sky and me.

As do all fears

timeless and unforgiving

linger in the depths

of clandestine reality,

holding at bay

our credence with duress.

THE ONES YEARNING TO

BE NUMB

Why rest here,

the pain of the world,

on my bloodied heart?

We’re not your catalyst

your demiurge.

Your fancier.

But man.

Infants with an emotional nerve

exposed.

Receivers

of the ill contents

that abound.

The blue waters

that flow underground

have our envy

and we long to be

as distant and cold . . .

As numb.

But we writhe in our

agonizing existence

while day to day

burdens build

and self is lost.

So we cuddle up close

to the homefires that burn

the tissues