The Other
Guest Poems > Teresa Ann Frazee
The Other
In my room, I am alive
Elsewhere, I simply exist
Hell - bent on artistic perfection
There my haunted hands persist
In this creative trance
Where the norm disappears
The Other morphs the heart
Until a single soul premiers
Past curfews of conventional hours
I venture into God’s dreams
While critiquing demons perch
On steel studded eye beams
Imagination is sanity’s scapegoat
Let there be no confusion
Inside my shared solitude
Reality bows to illusion
There are no forbidden fruits
My conscious is totally clear
My duty is to purity
Mediocrity’s lazy eye beware
Our manhandled morality
Is a crosshatching of lies
Their origins are pedestrian
Echo the Muses’ cries
No patience for hunger
Thirst is of no concern
Weariness is not relevant
The laws of passion govern
Prussian blue soars
To an operatic height
Bound by luminous strokes
Of thick Titanium white
Southern light spills onto
Canvas of reinvented space
Stirs the stillborn masters
From their artless resting place
Like a flaming baptism
I’m cleansed to the bone
Freed from the matter
Of this body on loan
Sentimentality lay fallen
Fear hides at the door
Irretrievably lost from the tribe
They’re of use no more
A lightning pulse answers
The how, the when, the where
I share a castless shadow
When no one else is there
I can smell the Other
As a beast can smell its kind
Instinctively we vow
To leave no idea behind
Teresa Ann Frazee © 2015