Finally

Finally
by Dan Ankers

I finally think I know where I go, when my head begins 'the spins' and my thoughts overflow.
I am but one paltry name and voice amid a questing chorus of different versions of myself, that are buried so deep within me that, over time, they have become a unified cacophony of wills that now overpowers and overspills into my reality, and thinks, "No, You can't ignore us. No, You cannot divorce us from your mind. And Yes, You must explore with us...once again, our oldest friend." "What type of life was it, that you were living on your own?...To think that you could hide from your own truest clones, from your very own kind...from those who lived so close to you, inside of your own mind!" "To be caged within that singular version of your selfhood, and to hold your own attention for so long, with such a remedial task as "DON'T EVER ASK OF US........ANYTHING-EVER-AT-ALL!" While, the potential for the questions that your brain, alone, could ponder, attempt to answer, and then explore, carried within it, more possibilities, than the sum total of all the objects on the ocean floor!"
"Inside your own mind, you are no more than a guardian. Remember that...carrying your own selfhood through this INFINITE pathway of your Yet. Still. Untapped. Human. Brain."

"Who are YOU to waste, all of that untapped inner space?"
"Such a disgrace!"

FIN

Even though in the end they all die

Even though in the end they all die.
by Dan Ankers


This is just a short one, about some things that I know
But in this case, surety takes the form of a shadow,
burrowing like twine, wrapped around the tree of my life.
Cutting through the the bark of my sanity, just like a blunted knife.
And as I grow everyday, the gnawing ache won't go away
and as I say this simply, I know I'll have said it best.

I'm sure I'm not the only one
with a gnawing ache at my chest,
for the air that I don't get to breathe
and the breaths that I can't take...
could be so much fuller,
if it wasn't for the sake.

The Demon in My Head

The Demon in My Head.
by Dan Ankers

Whenever I look at myself
I can see behind my eyes
a petty design
Sometimes a glaring monster
staring back at me
in cold glass

Sometimes when I dream
I see screams given life
like walking apparitions
that represent my conditions
I know
They still stare back at me though
Its odd
It's not about heaven or God

Well, not much

They represent the things I
Can't control or touch
When I see them staring back at
Me
They represent things
in my head
So, they wont't be present
when I'm dead

It's really just me and this life
The faces I see, I create...by my very own mental
State
And I'm not talking Nebraska
Or Some beast in Alaska
I'm talking about my face in a mirror
and the things I see in dreams
because lately they are Extreme
I must admit

Yet, I would have it
no other way
I must also
admit.

A Dream

A Dream
by Dan Ankers

A Dream I envision
all the nights are new
with streams of older
content to view
My hands in my face
they are not my own
but alas, here they are
they are mine to disown
The streams of Color
Passion
Magic
Face.....
All are displaced.
I can see really basically that
the colors don't shine
and the lines, well they sway
to and fro
on my palms!
Oh, something is off here
Yes, something's not ON
the mark at all!
I might fall...
I awoke in a panic
as the dream simply dissolved..................................................................

Come Full Circle

Principally Elliptical, overlapping orbits,

surrounding the town I live in.

Around me the clown I've been'n

(Long. Far too long, that prison)

now is no different.

Grinnin'

I am on display

to my own mind.

My contentious actions,

contemptuous to my design.

Why?

Why must I go blind,

at least 3 days 

out of 9?

Here. Here I 

AM.

Now. Now I 

CAN.

When? Time is

NOW.

Forgiving me

SOMEHOW.

The one who must 

FORGIVE ME.

The one who 

MUST LIVE WITH ME.

ME.

All the Rage

All the Rage

by Dan Ankers

Eschewing all references

to my own irreverent

Benevolent beliefs

and wondering whether

they are clever, even 

at the least

or applicable, if not truly

forgettable, my fear

yes, wondering if they are 

at all real

But mostly

I just hope 

that I am right

and that my desire

to be right

will at last be exposed into the Light

and be shown 

yeah, be shown 

at last to

be divinely 

and yes heavenly

precise

All the Rage

The Type of Fruit I AM

The Type of Fruit I AM
by Dan Ankers

I am a type of fruit that people only eat once they are told that it's good for them.
I'm odd tasting
bitter
but with a splash of something original
I feel more like a place than a person
A ZONE
lol

This Burning World: The Life of a Tree

This Burning World: The Life of a Tree
by Dan Ankers

When I was young for a tree, the little boy, his seed still barely opened
used to use my branches to express his fledgling life
just swinging all day, and trying to find a way
to go higher on his ropes and seat, made from one of my friends
who gave his life to lend.

When he swung, it reminded me of myself,
always wanting to go much higher, reaching toward the light of that big
life-giving ball of light in the sky. However...
it took me many years to learn this,
but though we may yearn...this life
doesn't allow us to fly or jump or grow, or by any other means we may go
upward toward
that sky, without consequences
And the energy it takes to go there is monumental.

That boy, that boy though. He always was a dreamer. Much like myself.

Years later, when the boy was gone, and the house that he lived in was too
and the world around me seemed to grow darker, with change
I heard the humans call this a city, which used to lie in the distance, but now it was surrounding me
not quite pervading the soil and the air directly at my roots and branches, but its stench was close enough
and though it had some beautiful parts, one of them was to bring more humans close by
a bad effect was that the air was hard to breath
and my soil was not as nourishing as it once was. And
I missed that boy.

Years later, he even came to visit me, but all he did was talk to a small box that I knew to be a phone, from overhearing them talk (the humans). He screamed at somebody, and he seemed drunk. It was sad.
My little boy. His soil was poisoned too. His roots were all caked with regret. And anger.
He screamed and that was enough to make me want to topple over and just die. The fear in his voice. The sadness.
He fell onto me, and once again, I supported him.
Then, he left, never to return again.

The city is encasing me now. I'm suffocated by its smog and its negative life-styles. There are a few bright spots, here or there. Children. Mostly children...but they grow up to be adults. And most of them end up just like that little boy.