Much of what is written here is poetry, but there are prose pieces interspersed, all written by Michael Wayne Holland. Also, there are blog entries from further back about living with post traumatic stress disorder. Full range of topics are fleshed, much based on life experiences, and much observed and imagined. I believe there is an internal truth to the writings, fiction or non-fiction.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Protector (A Collab With Author Karen Dewitt)
* Karen and I have for a while now been in sync with each other as we continue to dig deeper into our works to get to another level. She is my muse, and I am happy to say, she has been a beacon of hope for me. I hope you like what we have pit together.
I cling tightly, to the inner maze of the soul
cushioning the blows of nature, the birds as they mingle unnoticed
I lay on a dreaming pillow, trimmed in the highlights of life's forgotten
as horizontal trains billow down the runway of my heart
Forging, furrowing ditches through me
Clinging tightly to the runway of my heart-
Reaching far, and wide... tickets in my wrinkly palm stretched,
ready for the journey that will take me to another dimensional zone, untouched
Through mountain escapism's and wandering meadow encounters
becoming entrenched within the lining of infinity, and empathy
Reading your mind... the mountains you've climbed
Reaching far, panoramic whispers- the lining of my psyche-
A large boulder extended across the span of my existence, detouring me
to a place I know nothing of, outlined by sadness, pain, and waterfall eyes
The atmosphere fills itself with fate's perfumes, an admiring aura stands still
touching the depths of all the cosmos, plateau's, and infinite portraits
You cannot surrender... for fighting through, clawing with fingers
A substantial stone and limitless paintings-
Though I do not proclaim to understand my presence,
I face both my future and past in one steely glare.
I say nothing, know nothing, except bitter instinct
which shelters me from smoldering suns and tremulous rains,
opening floodgates from the Heavens, washing my torso bare.
I stand up to the olde world, pushing through the universe-
Though I do not declare my torso nude-
I confront pain directly, staring unashamedly
at its face, afraid that the willowy wind will blow me away
to another nether-region that is not home, nor foreign a place,
and I wonder why I have been the one sought to bare all,
to risk whatever is coveted in order to protect others and self in unison.
Solace, alas, finds me withered in a dusky corner.
(C) All Rights Reserved, 2012
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