WAITING: A PSYCHO-SURREAL JOURNEY

By Mike Muri

THIS POEM FROM MY BOOK... POEMS BEST DESCRIBES THE JOURNEY OF..... WAITING GLIMPSE And now for A glimpse into my mind What's lingering there I'm hoping to find. Deeper and deeper within my id, Whatever it is--it is well hid. Now half-way there I still don't know-- Suddenly whiteness pure as snow. A flash of yellow, bright as the sun, Fear takes over--I want now is to run. "Come with me," a soothing voice I hear. "Float along," it whispers, "you need not fear." Further and further within I must follow, The mind is released it is quite hollow. When I arrive there's affright in the dark Like a midnight stroll in an unknown park. "We are all within each within you." The sound of the coughing not old but new. "Who are you?" I hear a plea in my voice. I tremble. I shiver. I have no choice. "We are the Christ, the Buddha, the Isis Mohammad, Jehovah...whom you pray too in crisis." I feel myself burning wanting to be free My soul is awakening wanting to see. I must ask the question. The answer I dread. In The Holy Bible.... Tibetan's Book of the Dead. "We are all that are that ever have been." Hmmm, I thought, I really do have a friend. "And, we," another voice I hear ever so eerie " We are The Ones who make your life dreary." "What do you do deep within my mind?" "That is our secret, if you don't mind." "Are you the Ones who make me sin? Or is it my life the one I live in." Silence I hear. NOW I want life's answer. "Or do you exist like Blitzen through Prancer?" Again with the silence, but I will not give up Am I a human being or am I merely a pup? "Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Mammon or Baal... Satan, The Devil...What shall we you call?" "We all laugh at your names of us to confuse. They're our best weapons--our mightiest ruse." I feel myself floating beginning to fade Like a ghost sailing from out of the shade. I hear more voices they begin to shout: "And we," they bellow, "We want out!" "Who?" I shriek, the voices deeper within. "Who are they?" I...myself in whorl...I do spin. "They are the ones you came here to see... They are the future all that will be. They dwell in your dreams, they beckon, and they call All that you do from spring through the fall. They are your children, your friend and your wife They are the world; the birth of your life." A voice from outside a new voice I do hear... "Mike!" It cries out, "let's get us a beer." With that greeting...Poof...The Vision is now gone Coleridge's halucinatio interuptus poem Kubla Khan . Suddenly I return...I am home once again. That voice I heard--a voice of a real live friend. "You betcha," I laugh while grabbing my coat. In such wonders one should not long dote. Then out we stroll toward his beat up car, For Monday Night Football is on at the bar. Ah, you say, 'tis a shame to waste time. This I know, it's man's worst crime. But if one linger too long deep within... That my dear friends it is also a sin. For this world of cars, trees, drink and women This, my amigos, is the world we must live in. If it be real or merely an illusion That I can't say...To me its confusion. But this I know and you should take heed To experience Life--from this life be freed. Now secure it a bar staring into that void.... It's called televisions--so long Sigmund Freud.

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: B0B4LNJ3X4
• ISBN13: 9798832351339
• Release Date: June 2022
• Publisher: Independently published
• Length: 257 Pages
• Dimensions: 9.0" x 0.6" x 6.0"