Summer Solstice

[Byron]

Summer Solstice

During the Summer solstice
When Gemima was in ascendancy over Andripodes
I chanced upon a soothsayer of yore
Hunched darkly over a small unlit coal
She begged for a match and kindled my interest.

Rat-tailed hair lolloped down her form
Hiding any eyes in her possession
Twitching stick creatures clambered through her locks
Rendering comb and brush redundant
Grease allowing a sliding motion for them

One by one and two by four
They toured the labyrinthine folds of follicle and knot
Her zoological head spoke more of her than words could
Heartbeaten questions poured out of me,
“Will I meet my love, settle down, have a family and return to Hydra?”
“Yes, yes, no, where?” she replied.

I slumped on my haunches
Befuddled and flumuxed at her response
“Who, where, why not and Greece,” I snapped back.
“Young man, you take heed and note what I say.”
“Not any longer, how, I’ve no pen and paper,” was my retort.

“You poor simple fool,
how can you manage heartbeats, love and answers when amnesia encroaches in this quest?” was her rhetorical reply.
Beyond doubt I was lost
Unfit to assuage my dreams
I was undone, bereft and quashed
in a moment

The grey cells of Bipolarity cannot be tamed
when musings strike without warning
Seasons, places and people take on other forms
In an endless round of flash and dash from there
to here and onwards in frenzied leadless surges
I digress
I stop
I draw breath


I crave peace

[mat james]

Hey Byron!

The grey cells of Bipolarity cannot be tamed
when musings strike without warning
Seasons, places and people take on other forms
In an endless round of flash and dash from there
to here and onwards in frenzied leadless surges

I'm not sure what the "leadless surges" are, but the verse seems to hit the mark.
Have you ever read " The City of Dreadful Night" by a Scot named James Thomson ?
Man, is that beautifully black and melancholic. He is utterly pessamistic and writes about it beautifully! Many Leonard Cohen fans would love him
He has obviously read Poe and Milton and others and come down on the side of Poe.....and gone even further into the dark, dark, dark!

Good luck with your struggles through the Dark Night.

[Byron]

'leadless' as in not having a dog lead. Or being led beyond your control somewhere, by forces beyond their own control. The 'leadless surges' are the uncontrollable rushes of thoughts that pour like flood waters through a fertile valley as the river breaks its banks and nothing can stop the flow. I used no punctuation pauses in that last sentence. I wanted the reader to be flushed along with the speed of the action of reading. If you did pause, go back and read it again in one go.
'leadless' as in lack of control. 'surges' as in speed being speeded up.
Bipolarity is a bitch. But it is also a bottomless pot of stars, rainbows, fireworks, explosions of thought, flashes of colour, multifaceted ideas, wonder, flying with eagles, swooping with gulls, diving with falcons, and mastering the art of bilocation, inside one mind and in two places. Ask a 'bipolar' if he wants to be deprived of it and each one will say "No!"
The darkside is truly, hell.

[lizzytysh]

Dear Byron ~

Well, I tried changing "con" to "com," but it still leads nowhere, and I'm at home. Might it be Albert vs. Alber??

Your descriptions of bipolarity are vivid, and the dilemma of acceptance of it takes "ambivalence" to a new level. I'm glad that you at least feel like writing during some of those times. Your fortune teller experience was evocative and intrigueing.


~ Lizzy

[Byron]

Lizzie, pm sent.

[Manna]

I know a guy who went to a fortune teller and she told him he was famous in his past life, so he said, "Who?" and she said, "John Booth." he said, "Well, why do I have to be him?" and she said, "Gimme more money," and he said, "F*ck you, ya c*nt," and he walked out. Outside, he lit up a smoke and walked down the street whistling Dixie. Another satisfied customer.

Now, supposedly, that's a true story.