My Side Of The Story

From More Ghost Poems, one of my nine chapbooks of poetry self-published between the years 1999-2004:

What happens to a person
when they die
I’ll never really know til I get there
All I can tell you now
is my side of the story

So many stories left untold
so many holes in the earth memory
of the mystery of how we
all belong together
Despite intoxicating knowledge
Despite time-released revelation
Though the invisible web of human passion
retraces an epic of cosmic proportions
There exists countless galaxies
of black holes and sweet blind voids
in the history of humanity
every struggle is a prayer
never fully reckoned, never imaginable
and only recorded in some far-off galaxy
that’s really in our hearts, far-off
Look at all the stories we missed
in our futile attempt
to explain the turning of the ages
And take note the life-blood we never receive
in our efforts to overcome death

In the solitude of my room
angels emerge from the silent void
Dispatched by the Loving Master
they skillfully observe the souls
who dance through my awareness
The saints get down and dirty, if they have to
shuffling with those spirits
they know may be hindering my health and evolution
Interceding with the o selfish ones
and wrestling them to the sky
The saints are always ready to roll up their sleeves
and jump right in for the cause
like soldiers of the all-terrain
treading where they have to without a second thought
While the angels perch on their heavenly ledges
inside the walls of my being
seeing everything and nodding in approval or
shaking their heads:
the archaic stuff of conscience

This sort of thing happens in my everyday
this invisible orchestra
strange display of life-energy
Everyday and every night spirits play around me
and inside my analytical head and
the heart you would call intuition
I sense the o fleshless ones
who wander through my walls
I feel them, smell them
hear their spectral breathing
Sometimes they surface deep waters
breaking through the veil with
little bits of their saga
Decorating my realm like trinkets on a Christmas tree
Counteracting my boredom with little gifts of nothing
Sometimes I think I know with whom I’m faced
familiar identity will sweep through my perceptions
like a calling card from the unknown
Other times I only wonder:
who are these phantoms
tapping on my shoulder?
I wonder how they died
or if they ever were born
I wonder what their story was
what was held in their heart on the moment of passing
and the encounters waiting on the other side
I wonder what it was that provoked them
to return and visit me now
face and hands pressed up
against dimensional window panes
like a curious child

I do wonder about all of these things
But all I know
or remember now
is this strange light outside





About Unsungpoet

Life-long poet, numerologist, author of other previously unpublished works :)
This entry was posted in Photos, Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to My Side Of The Story

  1. To me these spirits are as real as you or I.. I feel them, they talk within my mind, They guide me to books, and people, I now listen to their words.. as they have always been there… I take their messages out to others and share their thoughts. to me they are a normal part of my world… Never let them fade, for they will guide you.. and never harm you… And it matters not if others think our story is a strange tale.. it is ours to tell… 🙂 xx

    • Unsungpoet says:

      Thank you Sue, and many blessings to you–it’s good to hear you say these things, as this is the way my life has always been…it’s the “norm” for me and it’s really nice to hear from someone who has similar perceptions.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s