Self Portrait

life is a mystery

my tournament's begun

a pickled piper plays his piccolo

the choir softly sings

my game commences

including expenses



confidential information?

no its my life

not a public inquiry

the greatest work of art commences

my life



the pen is poised

ink-pot awaits

the brushes are ready

rainbow colours mixed

clean pages await

orchestra warms up

slowly the grinding wheel turns



what will be my epitaphI don't know”

who sets the rules



attempt what is not certain

when will certainty arrive

divining signs mislead

my valuable delusion



knowledge is a deadly friend

inspiration emerges from the womb

confusion, questions, not knowing

swarms of questions always emerge

small questions

flying on mighty wings



the rainbow fades

the ink runs dry

dry nibs scar the once clean slate

leaving to never return

confusion will be my epitaph

© 2017 michael d emmerich

 

Writers/Creative Block (Partial)

The ideas are there, still flowing, my ideas journal is being topped up, writing is taking place; but I am just battling to fully translate the ideas into a completed poem – that is ripe and ready to enjoy – in my opinion. The branches are thick with fruit, they look tempting, ready to pick, but no; they are still to green, so there they must hang and just be viewed by me and not enjoyed by others. Each day I return to see if they can be picked and posted, but no, so I just have to sit and stare at them, hoping they ripen, so frustrating. At present, I am writing, but all the poems are either incomplete or unsatisfactory – just missing that something.

My usual tricks of the trade are not working:

  • Longs walk (done)
  • Inspirational playlist via headphones (done)
  • Required reading (done)
  • Teapot full and ready (done)
  • Dream Inspiration (incomplete)
  • Vent/Rant writing (Incomplete)
  • Faking it till I make it (battling there)

They say that writer’s block, is often caused by conflicted emotions, outside pressures and distractions outside the norm. Most of us who write are marginally OCD, (or maybe I should only speak for myself) when it comes to our writing and the finished product. We can see the finished product, but just battle to map the route or are confused by the multiple routes available, or as in my case; I am at point A and can see that I need to be at B or whatever! but have no clue as to where the path lies. I have a few finished poems, but am afraid to post them, afraid that they will not measure up to the readers expectations, which is really bullshit, as how can I presume to know what the reader will read or interpret. As they say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

My writing is at times cathartic and I write even in the deepest and darkest moments, but not today, (or yesterday or the day before that). Is it possible that to much angst, can be a bad thing?

“A great deal of poetic work has arisen from various despairs.”

Lou Andreas-Salomé, the First Woman Psychoanalyst, on Depression and Creativity in Letters to Rilke

What do you, dear gentle reader, do if you are a writer and/or artist?

© 2017 michael d emmerich

Dreams & Voices

when you think

to whom do you speak

who vets your thoughts

if you argue with the voices

who wins?



are your dreams insane

how do you know

which voice told you

who processes the ideas

that churn through your mind



some argue

only harbour healthy thoughts

stay on a happy island

shun the other voices

mental censorship

where does it end



just BE

allow all the voices

no judgement

commune with all the voices

even those in the deepest recesses of your mind

talk to everybody

all voices are welcome

ruminate, then ACT

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Shadow Chasers

on the edge of reality

shadows seduce

the chase begins

to catch reality

is the chase futile



duality of shadows

chasing the illusion

reality can crumble

the most elusive shadows

are those hidden

in the dark recesses of our minds



skirting the shadows of the mind

embracing, dancing

romancing the shadow

of the past, present

possible future



they cannot be ignored

but not always caught

inability to see

all the shadows

at times, they are an illusion

but oh, so real



our inner struggle

 on a quest to constantly grasp

those elusive shadows

it is a winless race

but worth running

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

That Never-Ending Story

as I lay dying

eyes wide shut

voices, I hear voices

under the bridge

is death the end

present but temporal

through the looking glass

destined to be wandering

in a lost land

all that you’ve held sacred

falls down



chances missed, opportunities avoided

does the misery continue

is it all a mystery

peace, settlement, nothingness

melancholy morbidity

a moment of eternity

an eternity of moments

emerging from the rabbit hole

remember that death need not

be the end

or is it?

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

The Art of Silence

If I cast my eye over my writings for the past few years (poetry and creative), the subject of silence, solitude and solace, weighs heavy over the pages. When I then received an article from tweetspeakpoetryBook Club Announcement: The Art of Stillness which discusses a new book by Pico Iyer:  The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere (TED Books). I had pause to delve back into my writings and cast my net wider, across the subject of being silent in a noisy world, and how we need to learnt to cultivate, this lost art of being silent in a frenetic noisy world.

Thoughts, visions, imagery; evoking pictures of silence
Be silent, listen to your heartbeat, and just be
Silence; sometimes the loudest words are the ones not spoken

The writer of the tweetspeak article, LW Lindquist, speaks of the “space between our thoughts”. The importance of the said versus the unsaid, the importance of what is not said, in the moments of silence, which can carry more weight. It is this quest for the power of silence and the solace of the silence, which has been discussed by the likes of Marcel Proust, Mahatma Gandhi, Emily Dickinson and Josef Pieper (amongst others), who have found richness in stillness. The incredible insight that comes with making time for stillness.

In a TED talk by Pico Iyer: The art of stillness  he speaks about:

Our world of constant movement and distraction,
and he teases out strategies we all can use to take back a few minutes
out of every day, or a few days out of every season.

If you feel overwhelmed by the demands of the constant chase and rush, that our society at times demands of us, then I encourage you to devote 15 minutes of your rushed day, and listen to Pico, and then reflect, in silence.

During Leonard Cohen’s five year stay at a Zen monastery, he wrote the poems for his book: The Book of Longing, and he was also joined for a while by Pico Iyer, who writes in his book the Art of Stillness, that Cohen’s “name in the monastery, Jikan, referred to the silence between two thoughts.” It is worth stopping what you are doing and be invited into his (Cohen’s) world of beauty, women, and lonesome hours. It is an emotional journey, honest and direct, still, and sometimes lost.

Decades before the Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast, sat contemplating on how we came to lose our ability to relax and be, and how it could be reclaimed. The very institutions of learning, that were once intended as a mecca of “leisure” and contemplative activity, presently prepare us for a lifetime of industrialized conformity.

Josef Pieper (German Philosopher  May 4, 1904–November 6, 1997) on his model of the three types of work: work as activity, work as effort, and work as social contribution, and how against the contrast of each a different core aspect of leisure is revealed.

Against the exclusiveness of the paradigm of work as activity
there is leisure as “non-activity” — an inner absence of preoccupation,
a calm, an ability to let things go, to be quiet.

A few years back when I was sitting relaxing with my love one Sunday afternoon, she commented:

I’m there, you’re there
We are silent in each other’s presence

Each engaged in our own thoughts/activities, but still at one; it inspired me to pen a sonnet: The Sonnet of Silent Conversations

the solace in the silence
where words are not needed to uncover
the hidden messages of compliance

The silence echoes around the enclosed walls of our minds, encouraging us to break down the alienation and find solace in the silence, and learn the importance of being silent, quiet, amongst those we feel close to, and then taking this silence out into the rushed and frenetic world in which we live. This can aid us to slow down, in this age of constant movement and immediate gratification. When speed is king, anyone or anything that gets in its way and slows the pace down, becomes the enemy. Thanks to speed, we are living in the age of rage. That too is ironic, the fast pace of life alienates more, than the comfort we can find in silence.

By opting out we do not have to drop out.

The Solace in the Silence

the Zen of not F#%king Up

Being reading “War” by Sebastian Junger, and he writes about “the Zen of not fucking up” and the consequences thereof. On an aside, it’s an excellent read of modern day warfare. Highly recommended. That comment got me thinking, reading, writing and then thinking some more.  This poem grew out of Zen, War, Dylan and Junger! If you have an aversion to swearing please don’t read this 🙂

down in the valley

going to the mountaintop

find your Zen in the valley

take it with you on your way on high

no Zen up there my brother

its all down here below



deal with the concrete, the grit

take wisdom from the now

not invisible stuff from ancient books

shame on your greed, your wicked schemes

modern times thunders in the alley

causing a ruckus in the valley



everything has potential consequences

push for the high mindfulness

of not fucking up

don’t worry about being worried

care about what you care about

don’t give a fuck about the rest



learn how not to worry about being worried

be more joyful, kinder to others

plant and see what the earth brings forth

follow the zen art

of not fucking up



enlighten up

don’t take yourself to seriously

you don't need any guide

you already know the way

if things don’t work for you

then just say, fuck it!

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Dying to Live

days spent around death

encourages one to live

day by day we die

until we choose to live

life is not lost by dying

life is lost by not living



time never runs out

challenge each day to live

choose to live

with intent

facing life with hope

each day is a new life



each day the butterfly emerges

allow it to flap its wings

to create change

changing the smallest details

completely changes the outcome



grasp the live by the throat

demand to live

live each day to the fullest

until we are absolutely assured

that life will escape us



demand that your life

demonstrates this principle

understanding our limited existence

shout out that each day must be taken

living every day as if it were your last

for one day you're sure to be right

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Cogito Ergo Sum (Rise Up – Part 3)

we are on a journey

on a quest

into the darkened heart

that of life, doubts and dreams

the search for proof of life



strength in life, rests on doubt

accept that which you know to be true

are dream states virtual reality

is life one constant dream

what is real?



let knowledge be your secure foundation

not the imagination thereof

but the doubt thereof

let the doubt be our proof of life

doubt creates sanity



life is stronger than anything the mind can invent

what is real are our thoughts

doubt your senses

doubt your existence

rise up and claim your reality

think,

therefore, you live

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Every Breath (Rise Up – Part 2)

every breath is a doorway

to heaven or hell

so just breath

and see what awaits

as you pause to exhale


by not breathing

we are forced to choose

heaven or hell

but let not fear inspire

either mortality or immortality


let Virgil be your guide

through the mythical dark wood

of spiritual values

that at times

pervert human intellect


the pilgrims journey

demands questions be answered

within the dark forest

on a crooked path

the meaningful can become meaningless

as we journey on a quest

into the soul of god

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich