Thursday, April 4, 2013

The War Within
Michael James Fry

Either at the mercy of

or through the circumstantial precision of

all that moves me through the delicate vibrancy of

this randomly blooming present moment,

I can feel The War Within.

With shadows of the past walking by my side,

and demons cast down to stalk by my stride

with witchy spells that whisper a bonafide tirade;

whether sane or not, I proclaim:
 “Enough of this talk already!
           Watch as they ride me steadily!

            . . . taking a sly pride in The War Within, abidingly."


Ghosts of the Future, Phantasms of the Fantastical:

I watch your gossamer work approach -

thinly veiled, a weakly sutured gesture of ethereal reproach.

Ambiguous at times, sure! (It’s part of the impure deception!)

But I find in thy blurry and empty pouch

a pale and murky reception: I find no treat

in the bland and formalized solution

of thy coffin offer; yea, thy tainted proffer

that resolutely comes upon me oh so softly,

and moves through me oh so subtly,

while seeking to become oh so deeply involved . . .  

But Alas!
No longer am I so easily fooled with suspension!

Because indeed I have pooled my attention,

not as I would allow ye to have needed me be
but only as ye can hope in me!
But whence now as I have no heavenly hope in thee,
I shall not even hope to evenly cope with thee!
As of now, I am not found to be bound

to the ground by the sounding slur

of all that ye stir and surround me with;

or to thy sad and mournful songs of longing

that hang upon all that adorns Death’s door;

or to that which is unholy, belonging solely

to the boring and unrealized swirly

of your unauthorized myth, your damaged fruit,

which is, of course, your play firstborn from the floor –

and not from within my truth.

For I have changed;

and no longer am the subject of your dreadful guile!

For while the ebb and flow of the stop and the go

of everyday life is strife enough for anyone to bear,

I am tough enough to call your bluff and stop the flow

of shadows gathering, of pressures going slithering,

of glistening goodness caring in the face of distress,

of strength and prudence in the place of your darkness.

It is no wonder;
for I have seen thee in action . . . I have seen how ye ponder

and know full well of the swelling traps of factless fiction

that you position to weigh down The Way

from human participation.

Each time ye deceive me,

I then perceive more accurately what to receive next.

The end facts cure me and I am no longer perplexed.

With corrections more than cleverly textual,

with intentions more than merely sexual,

with defenses stronger than the fences yonder

that you hex me with . . . I know what’s going on,

and at dawn I will the balance The War Within.

For you see, I am MIND, though I am weary.

I am conscious and cope with opportunity!

I have stopped; and have tuned in clearly

to your crushing bonfire of burning hopelessness.

This! Whilst watching thee as ye gingerly grope

thy dreary plans for binding man’s welfare in me.

This! Whilst like of a vulture culture eating carrion,

ye carry on to freely think ye hath me in thy possession.

Yea, thou hast me though, but only in my depression.

To this torment I am dormant to comprehend

the potential end to which ye shall exert thyself.

Though rumor has it you more or less spaz if

you must confront our Jesus, or even His Holy name;

a hurtful shame for thee, an wholly exerted claim for me.

You hunt for the kill but the thrill is no longer free.

For I am hell bent on the pressing matter of mind over matter,

leaving behind thy grueling and beguiling glee, and thee.

And as thou hath suspected, I am protected in this fight!

No longer hath ye power to cower my freedom tonight!

And as I move towards the lights of dawn

I can see a bright sight, a star -

a mighty plight at work, bonding  my rightful plight

to sway and roam at will, over the hill,

to go far away from thee and finally be free to shirk

me from thy darkened family of unholy wishes from hell.

Fear now the grounds of your baleful sounds; my holy bells ring

in the singing of my freedom; for with this song

I now graciously travel to places marked and plowed

by God called home – My beginning traces, His Kingdom.

For yea indeed, there I am now –

Far away from the sin and the heat of thy darkness depressing

which is born from deep within thine evil agenda pressing.

I reasonably rescind the unbending harking from thee.

I send back thy views and need not thy skews to an end.

For all thy broken dealings of token fee,

I now laugh at thee -
HA! And with a grin, I rescind The War Within me!


~ Michael James Fry,  New York City,   April 3,4 - 2013