Out of the Mind

Comes this fairy tale

some would call it

a fast and friendly gale

of why whenever might

our soul in peace prevail

change will be our writ.

~

Seems clear we see life

as a partial of our being

always in question is life

though some are arguing

doesn’t matter this strife

we are meant for living.

~

I walked outside of myself

for weeks, needs on a shelf

~

When once had confidence

been thought our middle name

we unravel so much by chance

we can never really, our game

always the question we enhance

lost inside a dream, lose our aim.

~

It wasn’t until yesterday

I could remember again,

what was ahead of my day

not ever today could I gain

semblance, a peaceful way

know in woe ever refrain.

~

I walked outside of myself

for weeks, needs, on a shelf


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

When Last We Imagine

It isn’t until we know,

that we decide

we won’t go down that path again,

we want to,

want to stay there,

watch the leaves turn

see the beauty laid out before us,

when no one need be nearby

to remind us of just what was there

all this while

all this time

energy spent just wondering why,

hoping to trigger some solution,

lays only in our defense

without any real resolve,

until that day,

that singular moment,

a cathartic wind in a naked sky,

where clouds will part

stars come alive at night,

and our mind,

this simple run of thoughts and dreams

becomes like that of a trance,

lost in the horizon stretching toward the galaxy.

~

For a moment we did step away from our reality,

for a time did we realize we didn’t need to decide,

for just a beat, a heart beat, did we,

imagine.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

A Week Doesn’t Matter

Tears remain the same,

the task ahead not as daunting as the moment,

yet we haven’t chosen to let go

of the moment.

Perhaps the force of human nature in all of its eventuality

will call our hand

where then we will be asked by being told,

it is time to move on, create another new world,

paint a new landscape, start another chapter.

Seek a new sunrise until our plans

burn to a crisp

and we are suggested to find another path,

step out of this rabbit hole

for today it is worn

and tomorrow there waits another

perhaps it will carry your outlook for years,

maybe weeks,

only hours.

Either way it will be different than today.

Oh, that is always what they say.

A Reactive Moment

Ever might be the promise of a dream

when in the eyes of a child,

shows prowess is in an archival presence

the nature of what was once, is now

in a jester an unstable posture.

~

Speak with such is our utmost

need to qualify to have a creative

desire to answer an immediate query

pander a certain backlash

we might never defend, yet feel.

~

Would that he might scream until

chords of chaotic frenzy do

truly unravel, split apart,

a bleeding waterfall

asphyxiate dying creativity.

~

There is a solemn melody always plays

when caught in the trappings, our ways.


© Thom Amundsen   11/2020

A Question of Authenticity

All my life,

a struggle has ensued,

when papering my walls with legal pad writings,

one after another after hours, after years,

until years later,

the wallpaper came down,

storage boxes collecting dust and shadows.

 

Someone said once,

who do you see,

what might you feel,

in a glance in the mirror

when the moment before,

you felt a single tear.

I wonder if we ever realize

when that day is near.

 

I glanced at the moon tonight,

it was profound in its full bounty,

the Hunter’s moon it is known,

to light our forests,

cause our hearts to gasp.

I wonder about this august,

seems to follow me,

on nights when

minds might

rather,

than

bay at the night sky,

feel a gasp in the wonder of

Nature.

 

I wonder about the moon and a clear night sky.

The Deepest Cut

There in the silence

a wandering soul,

human being

whom when asked

will respond,

will navigate

inside a moment.

 

What is it the

seeming attraction

takes their heart

beyond finding peace,

instead persecution

offers solace

before a quiet passion.

 

Once in a storybook

lived a man

who did question

his life,

the meaning around

what is value,

still he found no answer.

 

There is a fear sometimes

in words,

those subjective tones

an affirmation

later became

such a powerful

condemnation.

 

How do we survive

when the brain

seems readily drawn

to yanking,

demanding,

interrupting the flow

of a soft heart.

 

Where is the deepest chasm,

one that defines our lives.

When Wonder Whines

I sometimes look at the world we live in,

and I wonder, is it mine to simply understand

or is what there is to believe

as complicated as it might seem.

 

The people I interact with have similar hopes,

we all feel certain the goodness in our hearts

yet how often have we let another walk by

whom later on we wondered their whereabouts.

 

We all wish to be a part of the solution,

tip a feather in my hat, I knew not to wander

yet, later on, sitting in my own quiet comfort

I still begin to wonder, is this really what I mean.

 

I’d like to think the world holds a positive energy,

impossible to measure without that negative strain.

The Humanity of Letting Go

I feel things,

since living dark realities

a childhood

without scars,

yet, somehow beaten,

the foundation of

a quiet turmoil

always is that centering

point of personal fear.

 

In our society

we question judgment

public scrutiny,

filling the airwaves

is a certain attractive

seduction

meant to take our minds

away from our own

persecution.

 

Those silent moments

when the mind

allows the heart to breathe

there’s a sudden tightness

strangling physicality

that does have a pulse,

a reminder,

a constant of the human condition

within the framework

of some individualized society.

 

I cannot seem to walk away

from the burdens of my past,

yet,

the minds around me,

voices mouthing advice

seem to forget

or perhaps overlook,

this reflective nature

is the fuel

of a precarious

walk along the edge.

 

I would wonder

how long this loneliness

can exacerbate

my owned recall

of every single

tumultuous

moment in my life

when all

circumstance

overwhelms

a more seemingly sane

stance.

 

I would take a chance

on letting go,

if only I understood

the purposeful nature

of forgiveness.

When One Does, The Other Can Only Imagine

We in our constant tangle of thoughts and reason and need

for clarity,

we are certain to be the victim of an insecurity,

in a time of words,

when suddenly the meaning,

strikes us in the heart,

our soul,

begins to ache when trying to find an answer,

to know the future,

we wonder about all the things we cannot have

in the moment,

yet,

are they still going to be available then,

when,

at a time we imagined otherwise.

 

We live in the quiet of our mind,

only to find we can often sense the other,

just a matter of knowing

when is the right time.

 

Who can possibly predict the future,

when so many signals,

so often the same routines,

goals, desires, passions,

when the human condition continues,

to wind the wheel,

the master plan.

 

We might only allow ourselves to believe,

there is truth, we just need not fight for its reveal.

To Know The Right Way

Oh, to go beyond the grasp,

the tangles that keep reminders alive,

there is the mystery of the mind,

what to turn off, what to feed, what to settle in,

so that moving forward seems a reliable

resolve to the repudiating repulsion of time.

 

Yes, without speaking in tangible terms,

leave it to the eyes to interpret,

disclose, determine in words,

what shall be thought to reserve judgment.

 

When standing on the street,

look into a man’s eyes,

is he relaxed, skeptical, terrible

in this seeming expression on a hot summer day.

 

While sitting in a local cafe,

she buried her face in paperwork,

a bomb goes off nearby and she doesn’t twitch,

for in our world we don’t feel explosions,

we only create war inside our brain,

that is the place we store the fuse, the powder keg,

the nuclear option to saving grace.

 

Oh, the notions of moving forward,

to know the right words,

to recognize complete action,

beyond simple presumptuous fiction.

How can a world determine,

peace,

when locked into the tenets of this

seemingly societal scrutiny,

makes allowances,

to suggest the human condition,

is flawed.