the message from the messenger
the undressing from the undressor, worth
the player from the play, at hand
the stand up, comic,
from the stand up man
the nectar from the nothingness
the chaos camouflaged from confronting, this
the intimate from intimacy, feigned
the blameless from the externally blamed
the lover from the loveless, heart
the unwavering from the run away, art
the act from the actor, playing a part
the target from the targeted, dart
the dodge and weave
from the intention, deceive
the believer from the can't be believed
the "know themselves", from the
who can't keep track, all the lies,
just a sponge, a mirror, everyone else
the chameleon ghost, pray, if before you
the charlatan from
the scarred, deep within
the devil from the divine, of the sin
the liar from the lies, he's told
the story from the teller, hold
"the belief, seduce",
from the convenient excuse,
the manipulator from the man, re-birthed
from the woman, good, wise, strong
the "letting go" in the days, pained
the words and sentences,
in "meant" versus meaningless
the thief of hearts versus
the heart, come forth, healing this
all the moments perceived with magic
when upon you
was just a trap for the tragic
games played out for the "grab, go"
as in taken because it was there,
for the offering
there is little "look back now"
and even more, "why bothering"...
not in a land where
there are so many ways
to get for the gain,
so many ego's in pain
because, we know
we reject what is real
and wonder why wounds
they can never quite heal
not when "the party"
is all around, to partake
not when a man presents himself deep,
but is fake
as in betraying all he claims to be
the deepest cut, is the stripped
you were, it's just the blinded by love
loving a man for whom nothing is enough
to bind him to any fixed idea
concept, who he is...
this poem, for the golden, in the gift
of the girl, named leah...
in reflection, reality, it's important to see
discernment, he is gone, for now
but was he ever really here?
to know, to show, to give him gifts
to solve the mystery, his gorgeous,
to find yourself, yes, truly found in him
while the evidence suggests,
the chances are slim...
all it takes is a read, between lines
the taken from the take,
took the time...
to "back and forth", the flow you had
honor it, respect it, covet it, glad
to know it's rare, this kind of connect
no need to bite the hand that feeds
no thirst to "mind game" the love
she whispered, in a dream
"let go, it will show"..
and maybe, just maybe, one day
he will grow,
into a man, of discernment
(your) love, owned...
no need to ruin, no run away
escape, to roam..
the art of looking within,
(the walk away wonders, of whispers
"walk with me", felt, lived, known...)
bowen hart roselli
9 may 2020
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.