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Sight of
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Trickery


 

Randall Breneman � Archive



Dormant Dreams

Sheltered
From this quiet town,
In a house of dormancy,
Seventeen years chained
To a blank canvas.
Courage to show,
With desire to illustrate,
But lacking the paints.

Frantic fingers rend and raze
The coarse cloth away
Like a thousand fallen trees.
The pieces, dandelions in the wind,
Drift away to reveal another
Pallid square.

Hide the brushes,
Dump the water,
Discard the apron,
Fold the easel.

Ask the cracked clay walls
What they have seen
Since the last dreamer
Leaned out the crooked window
And tried to steal
Champagne bubble stars
To use as inspiration �
His skies grew overcast
In grey disappointment,
Concealing the shimmering hopes.

Now another prisoner ponders
The same doubtful dilemma.
A window to a distant paradise
Cannot provide escape.
The single door leers,
Bolted and braced on the other side.
The only way out
Is to enjoy being in;
Not wanting to leave
Contentment is circuitous.

Illimitable suffering,
That eclipsing moon,
Draws this sluggish moth
Into the frosty light
And bears down on him
With the weight
Of a hollow earth.



Copyright �1998 by Randall Breneman. All rights reserved.

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Poetic Shell

With every stroke of pen,
With every press of key,
My uneventful days give way
To pathetic fallacy.
Metaphors and similes
Coated in mud and gold
Reveal enemies of new
And lost friends of old.

Is this another outlet
For my bemusing grief?
Or have I discovered
A new realm of relief?
Set apart from the world,
But inseparable as well;
Subconscious desires encased
Within a poetic shell.

I slowly scrape the lead
Across the curled and cracked sheet.
Dickenson knew it when she felt cold.
I know it when I feel its heat
Radiating like sunlight
From my exhausted brain,
Then down along my body
Trickling and dripping like rain.



Copyright �1998 by Randall Breneman. All rights reserved.

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Sight of Centuries

Stare not long into my eyes,
Where abyssal shadows like lava flow,
And make your breath and heartbeat slow.
Behold � living fears of monstrous size!
Numbing terror you shall know
If you dare entreat where no one goes.
Droning sounds that hypnotize
And piercing pain-wrought wails
Resonate through extensive unlit halls
Lined by high obsidian walls �
Pathways of infinite length
That twist and wind within my mind.
Search � look hard if you have the strength.
But silent solace you will not find.

Soundlessly spilling through the corridors
Comes a silky blue haze �
Thoughts.
Conjuring deception and suspicion
From memories thought long hidden,
My subconscious churns with indecision.
I�m clever enough to play the Sisyphus game,
And eternally cursed just the same.
I care nothing to be clever,
For intelligence is a curse
That haunts its bearer forever.



Copyright �1998 by Randall Breneman. All rights reserved.

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Trickery

Never say what you don�t mean!
Disillusion leads to disappointment.
You lie to my ears and eyes
With subterfuge that poisons my heart.

With slight-of-hand
You produce sincerity from the air.
You use me to relieve your pain,
Then disappear in a cloud of smoke.



Copyright �1998 by Randall Breneman. All rights reserved.

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