Plato's Play-Doh

Play-Doh for the Mind

Category: Poetry

Mr. Halley

Mr. Halley Pic

Edmond Halley was an English astronomer, geophysicist, mathematician, and meteorologist recognized for computing the orbit of Halley’s Comet, which later took his name. In 1692, he proposed a theory that the Earth was hollow. This poem is written from the view of Satan, who resides inside the earth.

 

Mr. Halley

Year 1692 is when that blasphemous buffoon

Revealed the dwellings of man’s mind

A song of sorrow tune

 

In hollow earth his thoughts aren’t welcome

I put forth fire on my everlasting

Souls that were in tombs

 

He shall not last in man’s own head

For their psyches reside with me

And slumber in my bed

 

My home, he thought, is bright as day

He knew not it is the flames

Feeding on likes of him for play

 

The expanding air of my own singed lives

Releases to the world above

Making for the glacial lights

 

Dare not his ideas flow

Through the river of the blood

Ensuing to the float to those unbeknownst

 

Down! Down! I’ll come to pluck him from the sky

21 grams smothered in a fire

So hot the blaze will cry

 

Soon, not enough, he will accompany me

Into my dear bed

Filled with minds – temper free

 

Hesitance not taken to his own wit’s dying out

It is his time for him to be tucked in

No more spews from his shriveled spout

 

Invincible in future times of the past and present

I shall remain the captor of all thoughts

Mr. Halley, you will learn your lesson

 

Copyright ©2014 Russell Lehmann

Enough

Enough Pic

The following poem was written by me back in 2012. I had been going through an extremely tough time for many years and just wanted to give up. Every day I took solace in a certain line from Edgar Allan Poe’s  The Pit and the Pendulum: “And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave.”

Perhaps I didn’t want to die, I just did not want to keep living.  However, I have always prided myself on the strength of my character, and I knew that better things were to come, whether they arrive in a day, a month, or a decade.  My time here on earth was far from over.

Still, as Poe’s quote stirred the machinations of my mind, helping me to picture a place without pain, so did writing poems.  It felt good to know that if I wanted to, I could end all my pain.  However I knew that I would never sit down at the table where this option lay.

 

Enough

 

Synapses, neurons, are vital to life

But these crucial facets are detrimental to mine

Ablaze all the time with thoughts that bind

My mind to the chair, with the sponge wet and primed

 

An explosion of thoughts, a cacophony of sorts

Render me helpless, as I crumble once more

Expletives are shouted to these notions I abhor

But they only grow stronger, for winds make the fire roar

 

These unrelenting ideas have started to persuade

My once innocent mind to believe what they say

I used to fight back, but now I just lay

And accept the torment that I have come to obey

 

I’ve waved the white flag, I have no more strength to persevere

I’ll go down with this ship, the water feels so sincere

I look down from this cliff, into the abyss I do not fear

For when I take this last step, my mind will be cleared

 

©Russell Lehmann 2014

The Premature Burial

The Premature Burial Pic

 

He was a man of mighty words

He was loved throughout the town!

He preached to the needy herds

When in their sorrows they drowned

 

He was a man of many years

But his soul was so young!

Yet he could not help but fear

That his time here on earth was about done

 

He was a man in fast decline

His physical essence was about gone!

The crowds waited in line

To declare their “so longs”

 

He was a man now passed on

For his body was so cold!

Yet his soul stayed strong

And never left its mold

 

He was a man now entombed

For the grief was so strong!

There was a feeling of disquietude

As he was lowered under the lawn

 

He was a man who was now resting

In such a pleasant peace!

The people put forth their blessings

To the disappointment of his soul, for it was not yet deceased!

 

He was a man all alone

Now all alone in the ground!

Yet unfeasibly he uttered a moan

While his eyes looked around

 

He was a man now alive

Brought back from the dead!

Hi soul had survived

Helping to keep his heart fresh

 

He was a man stricken with luck

Yet in unison with misfortune!

For he was now forever stuck

In a box of retention!

 

He was a man now hoping to be saved

But he had to come to terms!

His future had fatefully been paved

For death was quickly approaching with yearn!

©Russell Lehmann 2014

Poem from the Past: Get Well

Get Well

Get Well pic

You have no friends

You have that special wish that you commend

You finally met the person of your dreams

But fuck the feeling it’s pretend

 

You were so excited; you were climbing the ladder of love

But then you fell down the rungs; you’re starting to think that there’s no one above

That watches over you; instead he watches you!

He torments you! Like a fucking flat tire your heart blew

 

You wish you could go back, back to when you were ten

Your were so popular; Yes, sir, you were the man

But that fuckin’ metal in your mouth didn’t give a damn

Blow your fucking brains out! In this life a chance you didn’t stand

 

But this is now; there’s no denying the last ten years have been pure hell

Robbed of a childhood, your heart pounded while your brain swelled

Your old friends walked the bridge over the pit where you just fell

But now I guess the time has come, to stop dwelling and get well

 

©Russell Lehmann 2014

30 Delightful and Enchanting Writing Tips from Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac

 

We all know Jack Kerouac as one of the most fundamental writers of the 20th Century, as well as a literary genius who helped kick-off the Beat Generation.  For heaven’s sakes, if you can type a last name as unusual as his into a Word document without it being underlined in red, you know the guy must be pretty special.

Kerouac was always being asked how he created such symbolic magic on paper, so one day he sat down and created 30 writing tips he called “Belief and Technique for Modern Prose”.  These tips, listed below, are Jack Kerouac at his finest.

 

  1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
  2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
  3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
  4. Be in love with yr life
  5. Something that you feel will find its own form
  6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
  7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
  8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
  9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
  10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
  11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
  12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
  13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
  14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
  15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
  16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
  17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
  18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
  19. Accept loss forever
  20. Believe in the holy contour of life
  21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
  22. Don’t think of words when you stop but to see picture better
  23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
  24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
  25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
  26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
  27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
  28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
  29. You’re a Genius all the time
  30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

Video: Unconquerable

I dug up this spoken word poem I made back in May of 2013.  It details the struggles I have had with what I call “intrusive thoughts”, that is, unwanted thoughts that I would not be able to stop thinking about.  If you enjoy this video, please share it so we can spread awareness about mental health, while also showing people that everyone has the power to defeat their inner demons.

 

Thanks,

Russell

 

My Demons

 My Demons pic

The imps, the demons, they all live in Hell!

Alas! I live there too; their presence I seek to quell

Their actions exhaust me mentally; they exploit all my vulnerabilities

When they are unmindful, I step on coals to reach their nests

I tread so very vigilantly, for one sound could disturb their rest

I must strive to conquer every last one, for to my happiness they hold the key

 

Straight from The Inferno, they haunt me in my sleep

They intrude upon my only thoughts that I deem fit to keep

Help me Lord! For I am in frantic need of guidance from your heart!

These creatures live to prey on me

They deprive me of my solemn liberties

Help me Lord! For they are on the doorstep of tearing my life apart!

 

They pierce my soul with tridents

The pain leaves me seeking guidance

Yet I am in this fight alone; Hell is nothing more than a void of anguish

How to win this fight I do not know

I try and try, but all is woe

Still I will fight with all my heart, until death becomes my only wish

 

When in doubt, I try to run

The imps and demons think it fun

They chase me until I fall into the cavernous pits of fire

I start to melt

I cry for help

As the wicked fiends laugh and play their lyres

 

Hell is becoming hotter

My self-assurance has been slaughtered

I search within myself to find that I’m too weak to carry on

My mind has been in so much pain

I ponder stopping this fight, for it has been in vain

I pray to the Lord to help me endure, and for these evil beings to be gone

 

I will always reside in this cavern of flames

Yet I have no complaints, there is no one to blame

I hope soon that my failures will help me brew a potent vigor

That will defeat these doers of iniquity

That will crush their actions of pure immorality

And help me to live a life in which I defend my thoughts with forceful rigor

 

©Russell Lehmann 2014

Aokigahara

Aokigahara Pic

The dense forest lets little light in

Branches are chafed and scarred from ropes

The Sea of Trees drowns the people within

People who have lost everything; hope

 

Many who travel here will not travel home

Unless home to them is the shadow of death

Bodies hanging here, and over there lay the bones

Of those who came to draw their last breath

 

The forest of Aokigahara is destitute of brightness

For the trees do their best to block out the sun

One could say that these trees are full of shyness

Or perhaps they’re ashamed of what their branches have done

 

These woods of bereavement will continue to house

Lifeless bodies that were once filled with pride

The doomed entrants will continue to allow

This once beautiful forest to be chided and despised

 

*Aokigahara is a 14-square-mile forest that lies at the northwest base of Mount Fuji in Japan. The forest contains a number of rocky, icy caverns, a few of which are popular tourist destinations. Due to the wind-blocking density of the trees and an absence of wildlife, the forest is known for being exceptionally quiet. The forest has a historic association with demons in Japanese mythology and is a popular place for suicides.

©Russell Lehmann 2014

Corvus Frugilegus

Corvus Frugilegus Pic

I have always loved animals

And they’ve loved me back

My tender caresses

Make them instantly attached

 

The finest of animals

Would have to be birds

Wild birds, in fact,

For their beauty need not words

 

For several years I have observed

All types of avian

Enthusiastically watching them

Glide with the wind

 

I even feed the pests

Crows, rooks and pigeons

Tossing bread left and right

As they follow me in legions

 

But one day occurred

Such an unfortunate deed

When a rook nipped my finger

While I was feeding it seed

 

How mad I became!

I wondered just why

I wanted to strike the bird

And watch it drop before my eyes!

 

An urge of such hatred!

To see it writhe would be nice,

To hear it caw with such pain

As it gives up its fight

 

Sagacious I was

For I clenched the rooks throat

This brought me the joy

That I had such eagerly hoped!

 

As the rook grew weaker

He cawed one last cry

I felt such a release

As it finally died

 

After such an utter rush,

My vision soon left

My sense went numb

As I started to sweat

 

I soon found myself

Jumping out of my bed

Disgusted by my dream

Until I remembered what I had read

 

Just before I drifted off,

I read a short story by Poe

Which must have induced a phantasm

For it indeed induced woe

 

A story of such evil

And of delirious acts

For I feel you must be informed

If you are to read “The Black Cat”

 

©Russell Lehmann 2014