Mind of Mirrors

Oh city of blood and stone 
Sinking into sea 
Endless clean ocean 
Purified from an electric sky 
Please wash over me 

Oh shattered ice innocence 
Disintegrating into translucent smoke 
From renegade flames 
Behind denied tearing eyes 
As I play a prince trying not to choke 

Oh mind of mirrors 
Reflecting a thousand similar scenes 
Protecting a vulnerable sentry 
In New York hiding behind a hieroglyphic shield 
I run from feelings and instead embrace dreams 

Oh my restless soul 
Denied an easy explanation 
Flying desperate though not deserted 
Against a swimming celestial awning 
Did we negotiate this death stipulation 




About mw2828

I am a writer currently working out of the New York area. https://mythandmist.wordpress.com/ View all posts by mw2828

2 responses to “Mind of Mirrors

  • apolloscrow

    I like a lot of the things that you have to say here, especially about “fear” and “distance.” It’s very insightful. Me, I had a typical disaffected upbringing, and my reaction to it was to run away and have many years of care-free(-less) living and creative adventure. Then I (perhaps inevitably) returned to the mundane world of full-time wage-mediocrity. I’ve recently escaped the mediocrity again, though I’m not sure yet what I escaped into.

    Anyway, that is the one thing that most irks me about civilization in general – fear. Anything exciting or important ever done by anyone was done by overcoming fear. Yet in daily life, how often will a stranger even look you in the eye?

    Your poem was good. It made me remember how I felt in NYC, drowning in crowds and concrete.

  • mw2828

    thanks a bunch for taking the time out of your day to comment on this. You are right-on with your characterization of the ‘feeling’ moving through this work. To extrapolate what you are saying, I also think a huge part of our lives here in the west is dealing with ‘guilt.’ There’s so much guilt, for men, over how they should perceive their lives. There’s this tendency to feel that we aren’t living up to a certain kind of standard, or carrying our weight. When we step out of the box and attempt something creative, even for a short period of time, we have to deal both with personal doubt and external negativity. There’s a sense that being different equates to being a failure. And failure is such an ugly word. We live in a very emotionally immature society. Short term fixes are glorified. People invoke God while destroying nature. This is just reality. There’s no need to get depressed over it. We only control what we control. I think we could all do better though, at saying, ‘hey, this is a real screwed up place at times. So why do I care so much what the status quo thinks of me?’ When financial survival is at stake, it raises the pressure even higher. Overall, this is why art and entertainment or so valuable. To ease the pressure on someone, even for a few moments. Then life itself is seen more clearly. Beyond what writing does for me, I’m glad if it can relax someone for a few minutes. That’s an important service to me.

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