A Dangerous Paradigm I Do Not Understand

 Perhaps the paradigm has passed me by,

And I have been kept alive for merely

My own awakening—I may learn yet,

That I slept soundly through the seasons

And that brevity is the bane I have braided—

The same sickness I have contrived…

The seraph that seems to surface!

I deem a dream I once had the epitome

Of my being—a fantastic fantasy of mine,

Molted into colours fit for a thousand butterflies.

It is a daily dance that delivers itself to me,

And feigns the faintest passions to make

Midnight appear as morning—a starless

Sky that I stare into until my eyes start

Tiring… But still it seems appropriate

That these are the moments my head

Stalls its spinning, and I capture clarity

Amongst my confusion and clutter.

I mutter along and stutter my simplest

Desires—drifting aimless like a ship

Sailing through wreckage—reckless!

The pining veiled with the vexation

Of one who is both majestic and missing—

The fruition of frivolous wishing—

The resultant of too much thinking.

But time is still ticking, and I am left

With a lustful lesion build from brooding

Upon the feeling that have haunted me

Thoroughly since I last tipped my hand.

I am sorrowed by withered words

That may never live to enlighten a page

Or become anything more than a dreary

Assortment of ink and dust.

       DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com

Curiously Confuddled

I have been afflicted with an ailment,

That I envision as irremediable.

For it seems, no matter how fiercely

I fight against the feeling—

No matter how genuinely I struggle,

My heart remains seized.

And as I lie awake, with my curfew long

Surpassed—I anxiously await for

Morning to occur, in case our paths

Are destined to cross. I become

Curiously confuddled as I muse upon

The idea of hearing your voice,

Or witnessing your warming smile

One more time. I deem my desire

A dream from which I wish

To never wake, for I become lost

In the brevity that seems to always

Be flirting with the fringes of my

Perception… A yearning perfectly mingling

With images I can scarcely contain—

Pictures of holding you near, which exist 

Only within the confines of my mind.

I often become obsessive in ordering

The words that I feel will truly unveil

The passion that keep me vexed…

But it seems that I repeatedly fail

In capturing the sentiment I wish to pass. 

      DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Ego

My self-efficacy was bleeding,

So I tried to plug the leak,

By lifting objects of increasing weight,

And returning them to their original positions,

With no net change. But there was a hole

In my heart that could not be filled—

A desire that I could not sidestep

Or evade no matter how hard I tried.

I cantered through a similar kind

Of corridor, each and every day—

An endless kerfuffle I created,

From the disparity of what I deemed

To be true, and the path I thought to take.

But it was backwards! My delusions,

And dreadfully misguided passions,

I gave in to blind happiness—

I found satiety in safety and routine.

But I have finally bucked the demon

From my back—broke the chain

And stumbled upon the courage

That supposedly existed all along.

Against all odds, I will continue

To follow a calling—even if I get

Fall down a thousand more times—

My self-efficacy was bleeding,

But at least I still walk the winding road. 

Sentiment

I am going to sit down and try

To not worry so much about

Rhythm or alliteration—I want

To express sentiment from the bottom

Of my heart. I want to give a

Passage to you to take, so that

When you have a day where your

Heart feels amiss, you will still

Find time to smile—I am

Going to abandon metre and poetic structure—

Throw grammar out the window—

And tell you that I have concluded,

That there simply is nobody with

A sweeter heart, a more graceful smile.

I have never met somebody who

Has captivated me so completely,

That I toss and turn each night

Trying to get them out of my head…

And I’m afraid to admit, on one occasion,

Sleep never did come, and I was met

With the birds and sun by morning.

I wish I had more to give, a more

Imaginative mind to express these words,

But all I can say is this… I will

Always be rooting for your happiness

No matter where in the world I am.

Of anybody, you deserve to smile,

You deserve to feel the joy this world

Has to offer. I cannot believe my

Endless luck, to have you in my life.

     DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com 

Cease

Between the desire to love and be loved,

There is a trap baited with monstrous feelings.

It starts with a radiating ache, deep within.

And leads me astray at the most nondescript

Of moments—it is a warning to pocket pride

And with heavy breath, edge my ego aside…

It is the syllables that pass from your lips

That I yearn for, when awake or at rest—

For it seems, I could dream a thousand dreams

And never find a smile as entirely encapsulating

As the one you wear with ease...

My courage must be akin to a frightful child’s—

Because I wish to hide behind metaphors

And other poetic devices that remain unnamed.

The passion is fixed, and dredged across my chest

To perfectly print the pining with physical ink—

A tattoo to display how fully I am vexed.

But I cannot forget, or delay the dreary image

That has twisted my hand and tilted the

Basis of every decision I have ever hoped to make.

My head spins and I feel silly—I wish to escape

The corridors that bind my thoughts,

And leave me feeling incomplete. 

      Dannyetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Every Feeling Known to Man

Surely, it must be a combination

Of every feeling known to man

That haunts me still—binds me

To pensive nights and rustles

Me awake from the deepest sleep.

I must be the most optimistic

Of all the pessimists, for when I see

You smile—when I catch a glimpse

Of your tender visage—I regain my faith

And am reminded that there is good

In this world after all.

Speaking with words I’ve contrived

I hope to relay a message that I’ve

Yet to define—I would like to shed

Light on a feeling I don’t completely

Understand… Will I ever comprehend

Why I cannot sleep, or why my

Thoughts are bound to you even

When I try to clear my mind?

I don’t believe… I don’t believe

That I will ever truly be able to illustrate

The words within my heart

      DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

In My Dreams

Not in my wildest dream, or most wonderful

Of fantasies… Could I have invented

A more lissome figure or graceful being,

I could not have created an image or have found

Words capable of describing such beauty

Inside and out. Each time I see you, I want to cry—

Now, I don’t want you to feel distressed,

Or think that I’m anything less

Than overjoyed each time we meet…

But every time I see you

I become overwhelmed with emotion,

Simply because I’m so glad we’ve met.

And I wouldn’t trade those feelings

For any worldly possession—

You remind me that I am alive,

And that my heart continues to beat.

My Feet

I can neither feel my feet—nor see the ground below,
I walk precariously on a line I do not know.
And I’m afraid to show—bare my empty hands,
To a creation of catered determinates.
I cannot feel my feet! And I fear, and grovel,
Of the fantastic and utter messes I have constructed.
I bumble and fumble furtively, grasping
And denying finality and closing. The
Ground below slips and saunters, and I do
Not think to sit, my feet evade me as I
March, my feet betray me, with bravery sought.
I cannot sense the ground below my character,
How could I create a more clouded world?
I cannot feel my feet… But I seek, I
Have sought and searched, Besought
And lurched—I have unearthed an undetermined
Expedition on unexploited reasoning—
To my utter and complete frustration…
But the ground slides and shuffles in a
Simple but sleight handed fashion,
I have lost elegance to alluring augmentation,
And become perturbed by reminiscent
And pondering passion.
I cannot feel my feet, and I cannot walk straight,
I can neither follow the path I have sought,
Nor dare to walk along wakeful tracks.

DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot,com