Writer and Poet Daniel Hoeweler
Encounters with Psychosis, Technology and the Far Side of the Mind
That dirty word
That burrows itself
Into everyone’s mind
From time to time.
Hate is
A form of anger
That has killed millions
Of innocent people
Throughout the ages.
Murders
War
Genocide
Millions of crimes committed
Within a single emotion.
Why did God create hate?
He could have simply created
Love
And then stopped.
Instead he created a battle
Within each and every mind
To escape the
Strangulation
Of our
Souls.
I don’t understand it
But ever since I started writing
About my delusions online
Headhunters
Haven’t called me
For an interview
Not even
One single time.
Its as if I carry the plague
I can ward every fortune 500 company
From one hundred miles away
I guess they have never heard about
That law called
The ADA.
I can find no set of syllables or rhymes
That can elucidate the emotional elation
That besets me when you illuminate a room
With your sultry stride.
Your aura ensnares my ardor
For unadulterated ecstasy
With a fervor filled frenzy
Ravenous for romantic rapture.
When you perforate my periphery
You perturb the impenetrable
Cavity that envelopes the emptiness of a
Lonesome languished loner.
We, two, together
In imagination only.
An amour so illusory that
It endures only within the
Idealized imagination
Of a woeful wanderer.
A kinship not kindled
And forsaken
By the deficiency of a
Demure dreamer.
That which could have been.
A great love
Reincarnated
Into nothingness.
An endless supply of used paper plates
And plastic forks and napkins and spoons
And cups and miscellaneous expendable items
Are thrown away each summer day into a large
Array of trash receptacles at Kings Island
Amusement Park.
After each item lands in the Trash
A garbage man arrives
And throws the decaying material into
A large plastic bin with wheels rolling on
All four sides.
As he ponders about the park in
An affable manner
A sense of pride for his simple job
Accentuates his pleasant demeanor
As he greets the visitors with a warm heart.
After his work is finished, his
Attire is spotted with the grime of
An honest day labor,
As endorphins circulate
About his restful mind.
*A poem about my past employment
There are two worlds
One in which the tangible elements rule
Where matter and atoms collide
Where science and physics survive
Where rules and boundaries thrive.
There are two worlds
One in which impalpable elements unfold
Where spirituality and religion take hold
Where faith and culture are conceived
Where invisible elements can be seen.
These two worlds lie on either side
Of a great divide and
I have chosen to step onto
The other side
To live a disembodied life
Like a wandering phantom
Searching for the light.
I pass through a world
Where power and riches
Are glorified
Within the temporal mind
That sees only one world –
That of the material kind.
I’d rather escape the palpable
And live in the invisible world of
Ideas and rhymes.
It is here where eternity survives.
A place of my own.
A place to call “Home”.