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Poems for the Three-Faced Muse. By Clifford K.Watkins jr.

Unison: A Poem for the Tamuse


She walked with a carefree bounce

Smiling in the face of uncertainty

Unaware of tomorrow's transitional misery

A fledgling soul untainted

Never conceiving darkness could consume

Every facet of her being

And one day she was reminded of the child

Who never doubted the promise of bliss

Until she fell prey to cold reality

And went cascading down

Unable to remember the innocent girl

Rolling her ankles with ribbons in her hair

a line



Encapsulated muse

Released in small doses

My tolerance grows

Surpassing the previous threshold

No longer satiated by single pills!

a line



There's no indemnity

Life is a venture at best

I'm willing to unmask

To quell your uncertainties

Fully intent on feeding our fusion

Unafraid in light of darkening skies

This buffoon prattles from memory

Far from improvised!

a line

The Canvas (For Zilya)


The painter's canvas

Has a face of sarcasm

He remembers her in an eerie sequence

But she was never there

He sits beside the pier

Salty air

Cocoa butter



Aroused by swirling pheromones




Bread crumbs

Birds encircling him

In a feeding frenzy

Violent gusts of sand

The tingling of vulnerable skin

He traces her face with his fingertips

And is five-years-old again

A frail boy floats face-down

And a man hurls himself from the pier

We are too soon beset

With a riptide's debt

The boy's father screams

I close my eyes

But it's not over yet

The boy is naked


And blue

His father holds his lifeless body

And stares into the sky

Screaming madly

A voice echoes for deaf ears

Then wrists are slit for indifferent gods

And someone says a prayer

It's nine o' clock

The tide is high

I'm sitting in water

Staring at my face of bliss

It's a huge yellow sun smeared across the sky

And not surprisingly

I'm left with nothingness!

a line



I stand as my thoughts go awry

This station (uncaser) is tedious


So I travel the mind

Revisiting forgotten ventures

Searching for something I'll never find

Existing idly

Trampling the sublime

I hate time!

The monotony

Heedless words uttered

Over roaring machines

Bat insignia

Crooked and hanging

Spiral conveyors swirl into the sky

Bottles clanging

Breathing through shards of glass

Dust mites

And an altered reality

Confronting invisible strangers





Who is it

Empty cases encircle the whisperer

Who is resigned to sedentary-sighs

A hundred crumbling empires exist behind his eyes

Sometimes wishing life would pass him by

And the moment would inspire something of substance

I hope




Now the listless operator

Sweeps glass like a humble janitor

With no reason to hurry

a line




An empty notion that pervades society

Reality for me

Could be fantasy for you

And vice versa

Delusional people

Are sometimes not so deluded


Who's afraid to release control




Deficient proportions

Mean absolutely nothing

To the heedless whisperer

Who has fallen like countless stars

a line



he hammers PVC into the ground

as a ship passes in the night

swallowing enough river

to change the tide

and the moon glows

where the baitfish run

swatting at mosquitoes

waiting for his pole to bend!

a line

Euphoric Connectedness


amorous strangers

unbound friends

connected by a split-second gaze

steal each other

in uninhibited dreams

only to awaken

feeling small

and unbelievably cold

confined to a mind

wondering what may have been

Tainted hearts

And irreverent souls

Make-do ties

Imbeciles assuaged by laughter!

a line



The mire of uncertainty

Is this where you stand?

Is it the quagmire of somber Sunday?

Resolved to racing thoughts

And trembling hands

A bird in a sanctuary

You must release

I'll ramble forever

With a piercing voice

That renders you insane

Because I'll never be okay

Beneath shadows of gray

There's no more pain

No reason to go away

So stay

No joke

Or trivial games

With a single utterance

And a thousand echoes

My voice delivers your name

We'll never be the same

Paint us again

With fiery colors

Or better yet

Swirling immaculate hues

I'm an absent-minded buffoon

Sitting near the edge of reality





Time is in

I must out





a line

Leftover Souls


We're Truthfully Pathetic

Measly moments

Questioning signs

Fate versus randomness

Proactive pretenders

Heedless words echo

Alone in semi-connected minds

Witnessing everything

Or utterly blind

Two leftover souls



Lukewarm hearts





Equally free

Warm and glowing

Cold and shadowy

Swirling in darkness

Envision anything but bliss

Meager creatures

Counterfeit friends

Tactless communication

Laughing away the pain

Wallowing in humiliation

We live again!

a line

Paper Dolls Shaded Green


There will be no blackened trees

No charred remains

Void of smoldering coals

No five-year plan

No consolidation

Or cohesion of goals

Only four unclasped hands

Screaming futility





Too eager to be wise

No more gelatin brains

Or cosmic ooze

Will roll from their eyes

Simple lies

Uttered with tactfulness

And aplomb

A vision in the clouds

The solon meets the finite sky


So high

No ruins

No chimney debris

The improbable expansion of clueless tiers

Ample increments of sadness

Counterfeit discipline

And wasted years

Two sticks rubbed together

Long enough to spark an inferno

Of towering flames

Yet perforated paper dolls

Remain uncut


a line

The Summit


Existence is a conundrum

Not soon deciphered by our finite minds

And somewhere a whisperer screams your name

and waits for you to hear a silent echo

A nocturnal release

A sun-warmed embrace

An internal witness of gradual unification

Eventually igniting an unrelenting madness

Beneath the summit

Intangible in light of indemnities

a line

All rights reserved by the author. No reproductions without consent.


© Winamop 2007