Hazes.
Hazes is by far the most important series for me. It was a literal chronicle of my life at its most tortured. I started Hazes at 20 years old and wrote the majority of the 29 poems during the ensuing 5 years. A few were added in my early thirties when life was changing. At that point the poems lean towards the past in a reflective way. They can be narrative or statement style with stories of the “Forgotten man” which is of course an alter ego of myself. Those years were very tough with the death of my mother, a horrific divorce and a major leg injury that took seven operations and a lot of pain. My music for solo piano from that time (three albums) are mostly based on these 29 poems. The names were used in the titles of the music. I called the piano solos ” Tone Poems”. Somber for sure, with overtones of hope, these poems are among my personal favorites to share with people.
HAZES 1
THE BEGINNING
I live in a haze
the perfect, alternate world
wild phase
dreamlike qualities.
I live in a haze
nostalgia can deafen
endless maze
recurrent qualities.
I live in a haze
there are faces staring
vacant gaze
hallowed qualities.
I live in a haze
reality fades
souls for trades
I’m in a cage.
HAZES 2
FALLING APART
Falling apart before me…
are the remnants of many auras…
yet seen…
or dreamed…
in violent night thoughts.
I reach to the star clad sky…
and begin to remember
the lost times.
In visions of grandeur…
I relent to my constructed world…
I am hurled.
Fooled by recurrent fate…
I am again upon the dreams wave…
forced to understand the repercussions…
but proceeding anyway…
This is the beginning of wisdom.
HAZES 3
ALONE
Macabre thoughts arise during the haze
Unannounced, they beckon me to awaken…
for a moment, in the middle of the night.
The haze thickens instead of the usual dissipation…
and lasts throughout my day…
confusion.
I stare at the moon at night…
when no-one can see me…
I stare into the mirror later…
and can still see her luminous glow…
in my own eyes…
Remembrance.
People view me strangely…
thinking I am grey…
but the spectrum cannot hold me…
nor can they understand my conversations with the moon.
I am speaking of them…
and they have no idea…
They gaze upon her face…
not conceiving her possibilities of comfort…
and recompense…
they are all fools…
drowning in the tears of others…
not knowing my visions of the truth.
She tells me of their faults…
and misconceptions of reality…
She teaches me to expand my mind…
They are all fools…
and are completely blind to the haze
that surrounds them
Until their eyes and souls are opened…
I am alone.
HAZES 4
THE COMING OF NIGHT
The coming of night
brings darkened endeavors
bright awakenings
are deafened momentarily
ritualistic living
drastic measures
they are only dreams.
The man whose face is ashen
speaks with authority that is unpronounced
his pallid cheeks quivering from the pain
of a thousand years of hurt.
He has wisdom though…
Engraved on his soul,
are the intentions of countless thousands
he has chosen to carry.
Like a fool,
he continues…
when no-one…
no-one is listening.
In sullen loneliness
he retires to the past.
The lost years were glorious…
although no one can seem to remember them.
He relives the past nightly…
all those years of energy waste
lapse his already livid memory,
and bring weariness.
He sleeps,
dreaming of golden forests,
but waking alone to the breeze,
coming from a single window…
and living yet another day…
awaiting the night.
HAZES 5
RITUALS
The moon shines upon the weary man
ebbing his soul
continuing the rituals existence
where the hell is peace in all this?
He can see visions on the face
of the translucent future
flooding the senses of a burnt mans ruin
living a lie…
and feeling sorry about the inability to change
where is the wind these days?
HAZES 6
THE SLEEPING MAN
The sleeping man has been entreated to awaken.
Shaking dreams from his eyes,
he relents.
He begins to recall the wisdom he has forgotten
and falls back to the hell of remembrance.
Where have all the years melted?
Why is the sky so grey?
These are the questions he is forced to confront.
He falls back asleep…
for now.
HAZES 7
KNOWING
The ravings of a madman are not always insecure
sometimes life can be seen in the dreams of one.
Hazes of the familiar type are always recognized…
Things not understood
are usually the wisdom of forgotten oracles.
These I can see…
these I breathe.
I am waiting to meet the sun
in the morning,
when no one else is awake
so I can hear the chants
of tedious chains broken.
Life from the earth it seems…
is mine alone to savor.
None of you have anything to gather…
and I alone can see and hear
the whispers of ages past.
You should envy me actually…
HAZES 8
HOLLOW WORKINGS
To piece it all together
seems endless
senseless
ghosts crowd my weary mind
entwine.
I am called in the night
strange hours of dismal lights
dreamy, distant flights
nothing seems right
auras of change, new heights.
I saunter life’s path
searching for the very thing
directly in front of me
but clouded by hazes…
HAZES 9
TURMOIL
It seems to me
life is a farce.
I enter the throes of truth,
but don’t believe them.
Red skies…
lies…
fervent prayers…
death?
To become real,
one must give up unfathomable things.
Must continue on this destructive path,
or realize the significance…
lamentations for a man forgotten.
HAZES 10
WRETCHED
Bitter restorations
accompany the man to his grave.
In sullen voices,
he sings of the loss of blood
by his own hands.
He rots in devices…
made with his own hands.
He has no peace to speak of…
so he relents…
and keeps dreaming.
HAZES 11
THE POET’S EXILE
He lifted the heads of kings
with his mourning.
Terrified the common man
with his travail.
In dreams he comforted the tormented,
hoping for the same.
Relief was seen,
but never found.
The golden mornings of grandeur,
not seen my many,
are the power he thrives on.
Each day an eternity.
Dreams are rewarded to the visionary
lurking in fabricated worlds.
Understanding everything…but…
growing older every second…minute…hour…
HAZES 12
SYMBOLIC ATTRIBUTES
Symbolic attributes still linger on…
I emphasize on the ethereal…
Death is cold,
bold.
Yet I seek it.
Why?
I dream of golden mornings…
falsified reality.
Tell me, is the dream’s end near?
Can the ritual be surpassed?
Am I living the life I think I am?
The monster was fierce…
scaled, living death…
He spoke in an unknown language…
Reminding me of my own death…
Wishing it to be his own…
it wasn’t.
I was willing to trade my soul…
for a moment’s peace.
A moment’s peace…
too much to conjure.
“Was that him?
The one we sought,
delving in the fabricated ocean of falsified lies?”
I am come,
so you may leave.
I want to know where the hell the peace is in all of this.
HAZES 13
INSIDE MY HEAD
The demons
in peoples’ eyes
keep eyeing me
from across the room.
They sneer
through their hosts
hoping I will turn away.
I am disturbed by this,
but not afraid
because they are trapped.
Yet sometimes
I look at my own eyes
by use of a mirror
and cannot see them in me.
Maybe because I am trying too hard.
Or maybe they don’t want me to know.
But I am sure, very sure,
other people cannot see theirs either.
HAZES 14
DEATH
No one knows death for he is
unknown…
He awoke.
The land around him was desolate
nothing stirred
the sky was cloudless
and it was night
there was no moon.
The last thing he remembered was sleeping alone in bed
thinking of the day’s end…
now this place…
whatever it was.
He could hear singing afar off.
The melancholy strain of weak voices…
but he knew…
the message was one to reckon with.
Fear.
Running proved futile
because there was no end to this vast place.
Winded, he contemplated the chance of dreaming
but realized, this was real.
He looked down and noticed in horror
his feet were chained to the surface.
Next his hands, and trying to move he heard the words
of the frightful music.
Fear.
Overcome by restrain and pain…
for the chains were very tight…
he felt helpless and weak
and began to cry
and sing.
The words flowed from his lips
as if being spoken through him:
“The chains are your past
come to you at last
cruelty of life
unending strife (chanting)
sing the song
the song of those dead long
your inhibitions fed
our terribly long dread”
He did awake in the end
but he was not in his bed
but in a casket…
for he was truly dead.
HAZES 15
THE JEALOUSY OF THE MOON
The moon leaks down her amber glow
ruling the night she knows.
She sees the significance of the sun
and the power he has won.
In insane jealousy,
she changes the tides
causes women terrible pain
monthly strides.
Without the sun,
she cannot shine at night
because she has no light of her own.
This makes her jealous.
Besides, most people are awake in the day
to see the sun in his brilliance
while most everyone sleeps when she comes out.
She is lonely and becomes jealous.
But cunning is the moon,
chanting recompense
ruling the night.
She is unmatched in her influence.
Darkness her favor…
Jealousy her power…
Seasons befall her changes…
Petty revenge.
HAZES 16
GROWING
The haze is closing it seems.
It is not telling me the reasons…
that are behind its somber pastels.
Abandoning me to the realization of the fact:
I am not perfect…
as I might think.
I am a lonely soul…
searching for the truth…
revealed only in its passive stages of thought.
So kill me if you think you can…
or run for your life…
because my mind is expanding…
to greater levels than the gods of lore ever expected.
HAZES 17
BECOMING PLASTIC
My future seems to be dying…
before my eyes.
I struggle to hold on…
though it is difficult.
My dreams are becoming tainted…
with others’ auras flying about me.
They want to enter my minds train…
Make me feign…
creating a haze…
wild phase.
I wish to disrupt the earth’s balance…
with my eyes, this may be possible…
if I have the patience to endure the glares…
of others stares…
society seems impaired.
I am becoming plastic.
HAZES 18
DEATH IS NEVER FAR AWAY
Have you ever felt the breath…
the cold sensation…
the cruel and rough elation…
the touch of death?
Do you awake in the night…
your mind hazy with sleep…
feeling in you very deep…
terrible fright…
you think death just might…
cast his eerie light…
upon your face…
defy your race…
take your place…
leave no trace?
People think this is funny.
I have noticed that death is never far away…
he lingers day by day…
keeping his way…
youth keeping him at bay…
But not always…
Have you ever felt death…
is that cold sensation…
on your neck…
his foul breath?
Only God is stronger…
So be careful…
surprise him…
this can hold him longer.
HAZES 19
SHADOWS
A constant garble of emotions…
shaking realizations…
the fallacy of ritualistic living…
all shadows of reality.
I love
and am loved
but ignore the signs
of dissipation
brought on by my own insanity.
I am a fool to see shadows as real things…
for only reflections are they…
I still relent to the past…
and demand sympathy.
It is not so easy to find though…
I tend to resist it…
like a sign of weakness I think…
I am a fool.
HAZES 20
THE PAST
The person who read the minds of others
has died and left me to decide
the fatalistic threats of pondering oracles.
I alone can see the difference between
Heaven and hell.
He failed to mention however…
I would be the judge of falsified myths
in their gender.
There are inconsistent pathways
I must sift through.
Leave me to die,
I don’t want this position.
Just say goodbye to the lost years you fool.
They are never coming back…
NEVER.
HAZES 21
REGRET
The emanation of grief…
the holocaust of life,
seems endless.
Faces are all around me…
all the time.
Images of the visions…
oracles once spoke of…
now…
they are here.
They demand recognition…
but repay the favor with sadness.
Who would have thought…
how can one die…
when his soul no longer breathes?
HAZES 22
PRISONS
The walls around me
though familiar,
seem like a prison cell.
Faces stare at me like painted statues…
disappearing when I confront them.
The freak started his day like always
a cup of coffee,
a few downers…
he enjoyed the contrast
so much it became a ritual.
“I was dreaming at the time”, he would say…
to himself mostly…
to others occasionally…
for the effect on their face…
which was always confusion.
They would never know…
he lamented over this because he was lonely.
Just four more of the pretty pills, he thought
would put me to sleep…
six more forever.
He wondered how it would feel
to never wake up on the earth…
but in a faraway place.
Yes, suicide my friends…
is a gifted thought for madmen.
How crazy is the idea?
Four pills have been done…
What’s next?
Suicide on paper?
Yes,
it is safer.
HAZES 23
THE GLORIES OF THE PAST
The glories of the past
are no longer real.
They are falsified myths
to be remembered.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Do you realize the pain that has been wrought?
Circling the camp…
were the corpses of the many who have fallen…
dead to the real world we thrive in…
real in the dreams of common me.
Falsified myths at best.
Do they exist?
Single out the death that follows…
and run…run.
HAZES 24
LIES
They sky is grey today
I feel lonely today
The clouds seem to feign
The new king has begun his reign.
Do you realize the terrible attributes?
The careless glances
The malicious attractions…
Are all directed toward you?
To become alive in a sense
I gave up the traditional reasoning.
I sought a secluded place to replenish
the horrible things I crave.
I am not who you think I am!!!!!
HAZES 25
QUEEN OF THE FOREST
I have upset the Queen of the forest
Her wrath is kindled against me
She has sent messengers to relate this to me…
because of her anger.
The skies have blackened…
death stalks me…
but I am elusive…
and to imagine…
the Prince is my son…
but he doesn’t know of me…
thus her despising me…
I refused her to tell…
this is my option in this fabricated world.
For I am not the King…
only a lowly court composer…
who writes love songs to the Queen in her chambers…
when the King is off onto the hunt.
He looks like his mother…
thus saving my life.
HAZES 26
DREAMS
I have dreamt of the woods
Being among the forest
Golden visions
I could thrive here
The short-lived dramas
Our fantasy worlds
Becoming each other
Not wanting to
I awake in the middle of the night
Feel the wind on my face
I am forced to relent
It is just too revealing
These thoughts come in all seasons
Nostalgia can be overwhelming
And it is amazing
I would rather live in that
HAZES 27
DEMENTIA
The reality of dreams…
the coming of night…
the rain gently pounding…
that eventful night…
plight of the ages
was for me to fight.
I chose wrong.
thus my sight…
was weakened.
Do you realize,
dreams like that
change my opinion of living?
Dementia…
false faces…
staring back at me…
To hate me seems wise…
it has been so many years…
why now?
why now?
It hurts so much…
though it be unreal.
Who the hell are you to mess in my affairs…
Who the HELL?
HAZES 28
THE COMING
The apocalyptic coming of night…
Exchanging shy glances with the day…
Familiar places immersed in light…
Now foreign.
The cool breeze…
That gently shakes the leaves…
Through the moon shining…
Is my longing.
I didn’t ask for this frame of mind…
It came upon me unexpectedly…
Like a giant revelation…
To be savored…
But flavored in sadness…
SILENCE.
HAZES 29
THE RETURN
I live in a haze…
The perfect, alternate world
Wild phase
Dreamlike qualities.
The shadows were worlds
Worlds to thrive in
Places of haven…
Soul rest.
I live in a haze
Nostalgia can deafen
Endless maze
Recurrent qualities.
Her face was ashen
Glowing with malice
She had power
Of a vicious sort
The hazes were the feeding ground
They are the place I rest
The monotony of ritualistic life
Has stopped here momentarily
Black skies…
Lies…
Death enacted.
Spiritual wills…filled.
It seems to me
my soul has left my body
Infested with power
The funeral bauer.
I live in a haze…
highland poetry 