Carl Balis

Glenolden, PA, USA

I have a prolific poetic vision of my existence, but seldom do I write. I am primarily a seeker of selfhood, a rootless wanderer subtly linked to all things. Truth is beauty is sustenance. Among my life's actions: majored in history and English, worked for Social Security, then as an auto mechanic, then for the PA Unemployment Office, and currently in computer and printer repair and software support. I've traveled through the U.S.A and Europe. I enthusiastically play mediocre tennis. Al Stewart's my favorite songwriter. I have a poet's love of true love, fine food, and wine. My E-mail address is balcj@bellatlantic.net.

The Journey

And in the yellow and green of my days
I was bound by a black and blue haze.
Like a shadow in a swirling dance,
Wrapped in the rhyme of some mysterious trance.
A ghostly glow from a lost ancient time
Stalked my soul and conquered my mind.

Crystal canyon, etched deep into the heart of the earth
As a cathedral's spire rises high toward the heavens.
The depth of magnificence, the pinnacle of beauty.
But the willowy breeze stirs the rustling leaves
Who seem to subtly send me a warning
With voices that say heed the errors in your way,
You still mistake night for the morning.
Autumn's ambers and reds
Leave my heart torn to shreds,
My tireless search, illusion, confusion, all cast me a cage
Of bars rooted in envy and nourished by rage.
My visions endless, so ideal, looking far over mountains to a space wholly free,
Swept by waves of wants, so unreal, to their doom like ships splintered by a furious sea.

But through the fog and the din of that maze
I solved the riddle of my self-induced daze.
Knowing purpose where once I ascribed chance,
No longer drawn by the siren's romance
Nor woven by wants spiraling 'round me like vines;
Now commander of currents, the Lord of designs.

Thought Flash

In a perfect place, so still and serene,
A beautiful woman and a man can be seen.
In each other's arms they perfectly mesh,
And delight in the taste of each other's flesh.

Women

Watched by the ever-damning image from the mirror,
She is cast into her eerie dungeon of relentless fear.
It's so empty, so cold in there, dare I come near?
Circled by runaway emotions and just unable to tame,
Her soul is wrapped in a cloak of embarrassing shame.
Is it possible that I compete in such a game?

Her mind's eye sees beauty always fading, like flowers that wilt,
Oh!, I can't hold on, such is the pounding agony of her guilt.
Could I ever find a home in a house so built?
All three blending to a feverish psychological insanity,
Leading to her inevitable end, crippled and bent by vanity.
Can I ever find love in her world if to me it's profanity?

Self-Doubt

Panoramas of gateways, multitudes of twisted trails,
Which choice: what corridor of hell to crawl., what god to crudely hail?
Stunned by possibilities and promises and elaborate tales,
Swallowed by the whisper of wild winds to fill my sagging sails.

Conquest

I do not want magic or spells or potions
To set my soul in motion.
The boldness of breath,
The march of mind,
This is my devotion.