I am Jupiter storms
Unabounded by time
Raging on
And eons
Can not hope to confine me
To unstable matter
And mass
Rearranging
My molecules morphing
To liquefied jewels
And my surface
A canvas
Of unrefined fuels
Like an abstract mosaic
Of swirling
Unfurling
Tempests of archaic
As constellations
And the ages I've waited
And slumbered and spun
Into memories
Faded
And taken the names of your gods
As my payment
Inflating my ego's
Mesmeric rotations

So quick to claim hearts
Of Europa's amidst
My seductive, enchanting
Illusory bliss
Venture into my centrifuge
Fumy abyss
I have pressed up my lips
Of a frigid, wet steel
And then sealed
With a kiss
What ‘nary
A planetary
Can resist

And as she revolves
Around me
And gives life
Io dances about me,
Callisto my wife
Ganymede my seed
And the rest of my progeny breed
Future needs
What the Earthlings will need
To make up for their greed
All will see
Look to me
In my enormity
As my reservoirs
Fill them
With infinity

-3-
I did not have a name,
[Shapeless]
I was ephemeral at moments
but I was loved for existing,
regardless of the pain and the torments.
No justification needed,
no explanations necessary.
"Just you and I baby"
"We'll get through this together"
I thought I heard,
but what were words,
and what was meaning?

-5-
When I was inside her,
I had no worries or thoughts.
Ignorance was truly bliss,
no tumultuous introspections necessary.
I had no doubts,
no need for identity.
I was one with time
[moving]
Little did she know me.
Well, as much as she knew herself.

-7-
Less space to swim,
but your soothing voice became more than a dream.
Who were you?
Aside from everything to me.
Without me, you'd be fine.
But mother, you were my source of life.
I sank.

-9-
And right before my clock marked nine,
yours marked ten.
I came to the world.
But the world wasn't yet a possibility.
All I knew is that I was born
and that I had been living
inside my mom.

-1-
"I'm bleeding, I am not pregnant after all"

This goes out to all that choose,
To suffer in silence
As if it can’t be subdued

The people that think,
Not even a shrink
Could understand their feelings
Even if written in ink

This goes out, to all the brave souls,
That navigate their ship
Alone to their goals

The kind that believe
That their inner beliefs
Only upset others
Making silence, your grief

It’s time to wake up!
Speak your words,
Listen up

The time has come now,
To stop this hiccup

People will judge what we do, and we may not like it
But if you never speak out,
You’ll get trapped in your psychs grip

Lonely and cold
Walking a winding dark road
Without human emotion
From others to be bestowed

Upon you, cause it’s true
Everything that we do
Has it’s place in this world
Through venom and virtue

We may no be perfect
But there’s nothing that is
Even the universe was created
Through the concept of this

Imperfection introspections
Helps us learn our life lessons
So speak up and speak out
Before your inner-self lessens

Hard to go on...so little information
So hard to know to trust my instincts or
to just be open
Try to let go...those 'perfect' expectations
I just never know...what with all my imperfections


(CH) I get nervous
Questioning my very self
All my introspections
Everything I think I know
My experiences
Every thought and nurtured hope
Comes down to fear or love
and learning when to just let go

I get tired...too tired to bother trying
Never dreaming, but overanalyzing
I get lazy, and sometimes I get whiny
Procrastinating...
and in general; just wasting time

(CH)

(instrumental bridge)

I get fearful,
sometimes feeling uninspired
Things seem hazy some days
Often I feel strung too tightly

But if I close my eyes
It all just disappears and
if I express it right
I only hope it comes out clearly....

(CH)


By Cheryl Klassen

© 2011 Cheryl Klassen (All rights reserved)

Jimmy Page and Towns Van Zant sit here,
Strumming out tunes in my living room,
Zant with his unique brand of country,
Page with his acoustic style that's so unique and blue.

Sounds drilling gently into the skulls of the unsuspecting,
Driving deep into the mind,
Defences cast aside at the overwhelming force of the medicine's effect,
Sending one into a journey of the mind,
Unknown depths and introspections dredged up in an unexpected discovery.

Gaining momentum,
Greater and greater,
Only to realize that this shall reach greater heights,
Heights that you will never have enough time to reach it, even if you had an extra 10,000 days.

The inner tenacity of my machination is rarely understood by many, an introspections of certain recollections that ponder that question..why? But I need not tell you, about gum on your shoe, or the expletive deleted that come after. So I do open doors, and sit on floors, and give random flowers to random ladies. But I am sucker for a smile, an unpredictable trial, of something so innocent as simple happiness. But Then I surely do jest, at the most convenient time, to make fitting a punch line of a joke. And if merely opulence of thought was my only intent, then blushing is the inevitable conclusion. For if I am too boast, to little more than an atrocious manner, then I too am I fool, and love is the tool of a dumb and blind man's decent. As I oddly beg the question...do you have any cream for my coffee, then sit back and take in the wisdom, of times that are far beyond me. To place with no boundaries or burdens, no dying or decay, a place where I can live a life inside a cherished, loving way. For love is always fleeting, more often flooding in, I grab a cup and sit back, it's time to enjoy the days begin. Cause the sun is just about to rise and being to realize, this is some awesome free writin, that almost feel like I might just be bitin, some style that heard through words orchestrated from past memories flowing through an electrical breeze. But I am no artist, no rapper by design, I am merely a healer of the mind. Given the skills of mental manipulation over unguided emotional frustrations that are products of blinded attention to feelings within the heart. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.....but an unbridled heart can lay waste to it all! Logic is the mind...emotions are the heart...watch what happens when one pulls these two apart, into a tragic representation of what it means to be truly scared, a blessed manifestation of a ****** ******!

i've always written poetry
with the passion of a preacher to sermon.
i experience for literature feelings
which i imagine others to offer religion.

i've never been spiritual.
full stop.
my cynicism denies me wonders -
tired tale, sure, true as any other,

but poetry evokes the holy ghost
a being more skillful, more elegant,
setting my mind's eye alight with
saintly delusions of grandeur

it curls from my pen, bleeding fire into my notebook
if there is Elysium, it is in
the private Eden created between
my mind and my notebook.

if there is peace, it is in libraries,
eyes poring over words pouring over
life, utterly human life, told in a
way that is raw and violent and righteous,
connecting one's private introspections to words.

if religion has a purpose,
a redeeming quality, it is
community, connection, consistency.
God Is Always and Always Has Been and Always Will Be.

the great human collective,
the experience of poetry, of life,
the art of internal monologue,
it persists. it persists.

no, i am not spiritual -
it does a disservice to us.
it unjustly ignores the
holy human hand in our history

time is a chronicle of the messy
affairs of human choice and experience .
it seems unfair to me,
to pin all the blame on a

convenient
divine
deux ex machina
slash
scapegoat.

don't give the big guy all the credit!
the exhausted masses had a hand too!
take some responsibility for
humanity's divine man-made persistence!

so, yes, i experience poetry
with the rapturous fascination
as sinner to saint -
yet there is no sin in poetry.

by nature it is a
narcissist's and hedonist's pass time.
so there is only wonder
and childlike curiosity,
and the slightest sliver of hope to move forward,
which, really,
what else is religion good for anyways?

The reason I write is to expand upon every aspect
that collects in the drainage point of unchecked
emotions. Its an avenue where I expand all my
sentiments, my thoughts I need to readily preoccupy.

Even though I'd never admit it, sometimes I need
to create words of reflections that have to be freed.
These are the opposite of what I see beyond my pools
of thought coalescing, when writing there are no rules.

We can all hide behind our manifestations, never showing
ourselves. For the reader is always seeking what is unknowing.
I write on blank slates for others to guess what is imagination
and the reality of my syllables all melting in cognitive dictation.

"I have many reasons to spill my introspections on
            every eye to see. For what is a word if not a dawn
in the sunrise of others eyes. I ink the words before there gone"

It’s been a rough year– especially this month and, furthermore, this week–
but there is a single, irrelevant moment that my brain has been playing on repeat:
You were making dinner in the kitchen, music saturating the room –
most likely some smooth jazz ballad you’ve crooned a million times –
and you took a break from the stove to try to dance with me.
Embarrassed by my inability to dance socially without being awkward,
I swindled my way out with an excursion to the bathroom.

There aren’t many things I would change about the last few months…
not the inebriated tears I couldn’t trap behind my eyes,
nor the hours I spent listening to you ramble on about
everything that excites you,
which is everything.

It’s the simplest moment I regret the most…
I just wish I would have danced with you.

Entrust me with yours
Then I'll show you mine
In time, and in return I ask
Please keep them to yourself  
For I share them all in confidence
Only with my midnight muse
Clandestine common senses
But my daybreak heart betrays
These covert black ops missions
And free speech end transmissions
Are but fake news to my secret codes
In messages to save this world
By over-writing border walls
To reach my girl enclosed behind
Her loosened lipstick gossip stalls
No rumors of my wedding vows
Just passing notes in class
For small-talk minded pleasantries
The distance in between these desks
I cirle only yes to ***
For deeper in the libraries
Of my unrest, a new behest
Still checks me out without request
For overdue confessions
Speaking unrequited volumes
To my hard-cover depressions
Introspections leather-bound
By ancient lore transgressions
In my most restricted sections
Still each page she turns to understand
The mysteries contained inside
This sacred pen within my hand

If wonderful words were just an illusion and my thoughts of thinking was total confusion.. well I wouldn’t be able to write my verses from my truthful tales of life’s circus

Penning is my pleasurable introspections..I reminisce my recollections..no matter what I do or say I write it down come what may..it blows dusty cobwebs amidst my brain and hopefully stops me going insane

Today I conclude
the last chapter of my life
but certainly not the final.
And for a moment
the world stood idle...

Contemplating my new future,
I cross the horizon
where retrospect inspires
forward-looking optimism.

My perspective has changed,
tweaked by others' aspirations.
Something grew inside me
by deep introspections
and as the clock ticked further
my resolve became firmer.

It tickles my soul
at how silly it seems
that I was once just
a clueless little seed.
But now I am planted
in the soil of my dreams,
ready to take root
and spring up with the reeds.

My doubts begin to wan
as I rise with a new dawn.
I pause to tell myself
I've no sins to absolve,
I must believe it to be true
to affirm my resolve.

Why is it the dark thoughts,  
the shadows that hang at the edges of my mind  
that so easily creep out and stain the page?

Though love and joy may be found  
they never seem to draw my heart out into words.  
At least, not in the same way.  

It is regret and misery,  
longing and melancholy  
that moves my hand to compose

The introspections of my afflictions
what could have been or would have been,  
if only…  
if only.  

Perhaps it frees me in some way  
to trap these long lost deliberations with ink.  
With a time and date scribbled down on paper.  
To bother me no more…  
or perhaps, to bother me all the more  

I weigh the merits on my scale.  
To stand firmly on the shore  
or dip my toes into the water  

To let myself sink into that dark place  
to retrieve some trinket from the depths of my soul.  
All the while keeping my head above the waves.  
But what if I tire of treading  
or the weight of love and sorrow pressed together proves too much  
sinking me down below the air  

If I open this door  
what if no one can shut it

I have been so alone.
Electing new lows
Just to mix it up
The rocks splash softly against the glass
Steam rising like the visible sizzle of freshly seared meat

This is it
It's all you got
Sadly, you grip it loosely and can hardly detect it's presence
Like the creeping escalation of day break.
Where you will be met with the introspections of your desisons
All of your senses will judge and be judged

In the back seat I know he knows
He peers in the reflective surface and like light hitting a prism they go everywhere
I feel them on my shoulder speaking in very different voices

"No one lies like you do to you."

So much talent
The gift of the gab
You spin them like paying customers upon the tilt-a-whirl
Their souls fill with amusement as their stomachs bubble from the inertia

They welcome the *****
Violent and involuntary
Like the under toe of love
You are churned and wrenched
The brackish oil fills your lungs
It compounds to your amino acids
Rendering you permanently convoluted.

Often I wonder what is the best that happy people can expect?
Residing amongst the coil of the cornucopia
Tightly packed sweetness for others to despise
How can you be ask to understand sadness when you are engulfed in all the nice bright colors

I feed on it, insatiably so
The juices drip like tears from my mandible​
Gorging just to maintain the hollow gnaw of hunger
The discomfort is all you have to measure your highs

That's the best

Manic Waves

Sometimes I feel like the best miserable person.
The catalyst is swift and tasteless
My tongue is dry and dastardly
The nicest person alive
A daft dandy
I require no digestion

As soon as you look to me
I turn away
Not revealing the slightest proof that you were ever observed

The gray scale slowly becomes them

Eventually, the stone will find the center of the slump
Momentum willing you may see your task crest the horizon;

But alas, you are besieged again

To be a better devil
Good son, to a best son, on the road son
The “pariah” of simplicity we sell son
Half off decently to a width in dimension to a coped, a lost, but not wished for.
Gone son, to be a better devil.
To be a softer more pliable horned helix on a dirt road son.
The sin of the mix drink son
On the onset of the Onsen to do re me sun sit something soft and sold some.
Story taketh mo and fo froyo fo shizz in the mizz of apathetic misery…son.
Battle me you cap in ten in a twist of less miss the le mis ripple off a tin can hand soaping fire hydrants exploding. Steeling and showing with body armor, but a row of ropes I could drive up and off of more than you could ever know.
To be a better devil takes the shoulder cold.
Knees of the apple make a boulder fold.
Find it.
Not a casket but a mothers hold-ing
Bit placard Bacardi but like Doc brown, we all be saying MARTI MARTI MARTI!
MY safety felt like an option, when for when we all could be better devils.
Horns to the ***** and halves to the best of introspections of identity.
You both left me at but a mere age of seven along a highway of sovereignty
Simple soothing sovereign ****** simply
In it intuitive if I imply “to my own death do I abide” and these rulers ****** out the joy and love and life from such a wealthy golden child.
I will never again let you see me smile. It's the choice and an anvil of steel and grate but no fires to we make a claim to stake.
I wanted to be loved.
I wanted to be held and told I was worth it.
Because I was.
I am.
I want to be loved without exception, but exception they have always made.
1. I love you but I love ***** more
2. I love you but you aren’t worth the time or energy or effort
3. I love you but my parents don’t approve
4. I love you but I can’t handle my depression
5. I love you but I’m gay
It was here I drew a perfect line, a post-it note I will carry as no one will ever marry me.
To be a perfect devil.
To be a perfect devil…
…To be a perfect devil…

Have you seen the latest news
did you read gutter press today
its same as same is malicious bile
Climbing lows to reach still lower
******* fetid decaying minds ajar
Gather round and hide your contempt
barely glance at how the insecure thinks
mindless foibles of the immature rabbles
Displaying wares of feeble innards and fears
tis all they court from life in shady wilderness
The brutish thoughts of the untrained labourers
introspections of hackneyed snake-oil merchants
The outputs of the gainsayers unskilled in life's takes
where under the canopy of stunted growth they dwell
in vacuous flings and malaise they expose their afflictions
Inadequate insecures fight themselves with owned weaknesses

semblances are the Nike of the empties
the Guccis' to the half baked town poltroons
who write cheques that slimy mouths can't cash
and cover cowardice only in gangs of fellow witless buffoons

talking the talk unable to walk the walk
stragglers of the herd swaggering in festering Achilles
yodelling barbarians of urban cosmopolitan with no qualifications
indulgent children of lesser gods with Mother Welfare dishing cares

their furthest reaches packages to  Magaluf or Ibiza
short staffed hooded carriers of chlamydia and gonorrhea
drink off psychosis in celebration of their greatest achievement looking forward to go ******* each others on terraces at the kop

then the wasted, wasted dons of simpletonia
come hide behind screens to atone for the blight of their lives
ignorant mules, pathetic narcissists tear into their betters with venom
devoid of introspections, blinded in self-loathing they see it all in others

and in their spare time
they play at chess with Royalty ( as you do )
do you blame them, what else can they aspire to.....