Friday, May 29, 2015

Dr. Mel Waldman- Three Poems


OUROBOROS
 
Ouroboros,
mystical serpent or dragon, are you the keeper of cosmic secrets?

Circular symbol of infinity & more, you swallow your metaphysical tail,

Ouroboros, while I gaze quizzically at your sacred mystery-
the conundrum of the universe,

& now, on this barren night, alone, bereft of the divine, in the deep silence of my mind

I ask you, Ouroboros,
Who are you & what & why?

But soon, I drift off, slither into a dream and my gold eyes enter your eternity

& listen to the incessant hissing of the snake,
Ouroboros, and your susurrations, wicked whispers of death & rebirth,

& suddenly, you swallow me, envelop and devour me, serpent of light & darkness,

transcending duality, and I die, without knowing who you are & what & why,
Ouroboros only that my death gives birth to something newborn and glorious

  

ON

THE ROAD FOREVER

On the road forever
familiar & unfathomable & ferociously rolling around the bend

on this tortuous road forever
flanked by the forest of spirits & the flowers of Eros & Thanatos

in search of something I never find

& you, whoever you are

always looking seeking longing & tasting the shattered glass of sin mixed with gravel
& gazing at the Judas trees with deep pink flowers to my left

while I travel forever on this winding road surrounded by scattered shards of ylem

invisible & everywhere
harrowing ylem primordial matter of the unreal universe

hidden & nowhere
swirling in the primitive sphere of non-existence on this eerie empty phantom road

in search of something I never find

& you, whoever you are, my secret self

  

I WAIT,

TO COME ALIVE
  
I wait,
to come alive,
after dark,
alone,
in the country of vastness,
almost fully conscious,
in the temple of silence,
I wait;

wondering
if I exist,
or if I am,
willing my resurrection
inside the belly
of
the bestial landscape,
after dark,
where I meet the Sphinx

&
swallow
a terrible conundrum
&
vanish,
inside
the maw of the monster,

&
still,
while swirling in nothingness,
my mute self rises out of the wild void,
reborn in the raw abyss,
spewing metaphysical and existential
questions without answers, without voice,
my holy fire,
my holy water,

&
becoming alive,
fully conscious in the skin of resurrection,

becoming alive,
with only holy fire, holy water,
the sacred questions of the spirit and the shroud of faith,

becoming alive,
in the country of vastness, and the temple of silence,
after dark, inside the Ultimate Nothingness that feeds me
cosmic breath, and gives birth to me again and again



Dr. Mel Waldman is a psychologist, poet, and writer whose stories have appeared in numerous magazines including HARDBOILED DETECTIVE, ESPIONAGE, THE SAINT, PULP METAL MAGAZINE, and AUDIENCE. His poems have been widely published in magazines and books including LIQUID IMAGINATION, A NEW ULSTER, THE BROOKLYN LITERARY REVIEW, THE BROOKLYN VOICE, BRICKPLIGHT, THE BITCHIN’ KITSCH, CRAB FAT MAGAZINE, SKIVE MAGAZINE, ODDBALL MAGAZINE, ON THE RUSK, POETRY PACIFIC, POETICA, RED FEZ, SQUAWK BACK, SWEET ANNIE & SWEET PEA REVIEW, THE JEWISH LITERARY JOURNAL, THE JEWISH PRESS, THE JERUSALEM POST, HOTMETAL PRESS, MAD SWIRL, HAGGARD & HALLOO, ASCENT ASPIRATIONS, and NAMASTE FIJI: THE INTERNATIONAL ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY. A past winner of the literary GRADIVA AWARD in Psychoanalysis, he was nominated for a PUSHCART PRIZE in literature and is the author of 11 books.

No comments:

Post a Comment