All posts by poeticlinguist


But for a moment
I wished the wish of a thousand souls
imprisoned within the chaos left from
wondering why

star shine in the twinkling of an eye
the utterance of a powerful word
I wished yet again this wish, then
stepped off into a dream to make
sense of my reality

old is the soul carried within the deepest
depths of an inner world whose wants
vary little from its needs. Drying up and
out dying in a way, slowly losing that which
holds life in balance

these nightly forays into lands beyond mortal
dreams, yield only torment, having sat with
thousands upon tens of hundreds of thousands
these souls restrained inside their own dreams
and wishes for something more than what life
had given them

clearly then I have gained such understanding
that to live a life without something more than
the torments of humanity or the beloved comfort
of companionship is not one which I wish to live

there is no path leading to what I seek, but if then
I find it for an hour or a day or even sometime more
just maybe there in the depths of my inner world
the balance of life will again be found

R.S.Katovski O.2018


By Fire

He sat looking off into the night
as the flames wicked up the walls
of an inner world whose edges rolled
down in the heat, exposing reality for
what it is

we read about cleansing by fire
which seems the only way to remove
impurities that unravel our inner structure

and from the ashes like a phoenix we rise
again, stepping out into life empowered
by an all new inner world born of the same
fire that destroyed it

many are the things that remain the same
but out of those ashes there has been a
change in direction

while disaster smolders in the rear view
the road ahead is clear

he sat looking off into the night as the
flames wicked up the walls behind him


Attraction Factor

Consider the light that shown down
from a dark and star filled night
what then fell to earth behind
the radiance which bathed her in

yet magic of such dark matters
poisoned a destiny, altering a life in

the heart wants what it wants and in
that respect the heart is stupid. It forgets
how attractive intelligence is, which is a
consideration of the mind.

shall we then consider the flesh? And the
mythical monster called love. Which is really
nothing more than a dressed-up version of
lust, whose primal urge plainly defines it as
I like you enough to want to, fuck you, again!

while in the heat of that moment a relationship
is forged without the alliance of the brain.

you see the brain tells us to be cautious, to take
our time, to not jump off that cliff of impending

while the heart says “that’s nonsense! Come on
let’s jump! Free falling is the orgasm that intellect

Impact however, is an important detail which the
heart never thinks about until the searing pain
spreads rapidly and the brain is forced to take over
picking up the pieces in some weird altered state
version of Humpty Dumpty.

somehow, we are led to believe the heart is a compass
when in reality it often leaves us lost

meanwhile the brain stands over there, leaning against
a wall, wearing a black leather jacket, looking like
James Dean, shaking its head, wondering, asking, screaming
what the fuck is wrong with you

at which point in this hallucination James turns into a
twenty-one-year-old marine, who you, I made a promise
to, that you, I would not do this again. When making a
promise to a government trained killer there is a certain
amount of intimidation in the air

so, breathe deep that which will set you free, and in that
freedom find the attraction factor of intelligence


A Touch in Time

Softly, her fingers slid across my skin
tingling, hair raising deep scream from
within the direst of need

cool trace heated core cascading feelings
inner world bliss in long gentle strokes
rise, to the occasion where tender is the
touch and for the moment something, feels,

present life regression to the point where
no one cared while forgotten lives spin, slip
then burn out

the feel of her skin made me happy in ways
that need not be explained, yet time, never on
our side drains quickly from the clock, asking
for an hour really wanting more

is it financially frugal to continue while internally
the needs remind the wants that too much of a
good thing spells addiction in way not defined

drought, the drying of a life spring the dying of a
spirit where simple desire and unanswered wishes
flatline the heart of a world living without

some people seek therapy to relieve the pain of sore
muscles some of us seek therapy just to fulfill a basic
human need

like a cat I have a desire a need a want to be petted
in a manner of speaking through the hands of another
we can experience the warmth of kindness

forgive me, look down on me if you must, but yes, I pay
another human to touch me because I live without
this is the harsh reality of the world we live in

now excuse me please I have an appointment
Softly, her fingers slid across my skin


My Suicide

Once upon a movie, the memory
triggered from a time that refuses
to stay buried in the past

even though a promise made and kept
remains the most difficult task, due to
circumstances beyond the mortal control
of any one person

not everyone has the same story which
often leads to a copycat result, but maybe
there is synchronicity in their path

could it be that some share the same need
to be and feel loved, but why is it that we don’t?
personally, I know my parents and my child love me
but I need something far different from that

it’s been a longtime since I felt the touch that
found home, while the hugs and love you brothers
made in greetings are wonderful, yet usually stay
right where they were cast

people that consider it, often leave subtle hints in hope
that someone will talk to them about what is going on
they may do this several times before just fading away
becoming the mother fucker, in, “I can’t believe that mother
fucker did that to us” which is a shoe best never worn

sometimes they just lose their shit, while others lose everything
and in the continual taking away of puzzle pieces that complete,
the voices begin to bully, telling me, that everyone would be
better off without me because no one, not a soul loves me, but
little do they know, a promise made to a five-year-old makes
me stronger than all the voices combined

we may never know what causes people to hate their lives and I wish
there was a way to convince them to just remove the parts they hate
instead of creating a new group of victims left to wonder why

Robert S Katovski Olson2017

Absolutely Nothing

It’s that sick feeling in the
pit of your stomach the same
one you thought was butterflies
early on

funny isn’t it, how a feeling can
have two meanings completely
opposite from one another

the pain experienced when a heart
breaks itself differs much from that
of the shattering caused by another

but then this feeling so many get hooked
on is nothing more than a lie perpetuated
on the need to mate

somewhere in time someone hung a price tag
on such a thing and then commerce was born
in the name of love

boiled down and dissected nothing about it is
free, for it can take your money, your happiness,
and your self-esteem

leaving you alone in a crowd where no one will even
see you, you’re just something to step around like
the indigent on the corner holding a sign worded
need a hug

there wasn’t a question there it was a request for
a basic human need, yet so many struggle on without

people often drop subtle hints as to what is wrong
or what they are about to do but humanity is too worried
about what will it cost them to reach out and touch someone

my butterflies turned to nausea, it’s a good thing I can swim
and or tread water because I realized that unless I come right
out and say that I’m hearing the voices and they keep saying
the same thing they have always said and I am still here alone
trying to be stronger than the very voices telling me I would be
better off

when all that it would take is for one person to realize that my
struggle is real and it could very well end in the dynamics of
something as simple as a caring embrace that cost absolutely


A Cry For… never mind

I write books that no one reads
I perform in shows that people don’t come to
I love people in a way that I wish to be loved
which is more than anyone has ever loved me
and I keep going I keep loving people I keep
performing I keep writing I keep supporting
people that don’t support me and for what?

is it possible that I’m just not weird enough?
which is something I never thought I’d say.
it seems that I didn’t even fit in before I lost
my ability to drink I don’t smoke so really what
is there to socialize over. sometimes people
just go away quietly never wondering if anyone
will even remember their name.

so, whatever its been nice, these cracks aren’t
healing and I’m sinking deeper than ever before
my head has gone under my finger tips are all that’s
visible it’s dark underneath and I’m scared

lungs will only hold so much air which triggers
the survival instinct and the cycle is complete.
such is the life of a loner who only has friends
when he crosses their particular path

Robert Olson2017

A Feather, Stone and Leaf

In my hand, I hold a feather
gifted to me by the very
spirit of a bird residing within
my soul

within this feather I find flight
leaving behind the bothers of
everyday life

while in my hand I hold a stone
presented to me from the heart
of mother earth, herself

born of fire like a diamond but
yellow green in color, Olivine
the anti-envy gem of light releasing
the knowledge of spiritual destiny

solitude stands upon a precipice in
quiet reverence to those who dared
to look up, step out, and be different

some find their way while some do not
others are stronger than the voices
and carry those who cannot walk

in my hand, I hold a leaf of a tree greater
than the sum total we all have lost, magic
energizes the air surrounding this grove
while peace settles this emotional state

these are the elements holding my world
together, odd as it may seem, such things
will never abandon me

in my heart, I hold all my hopes and dreams
it’s not a safe place but, it is where they were
born and thrive

which is why in my hand I hold a feather, a stone,
and a leaf



Life, love, the age of fragmentation
and identity theft runs rampant among
those defined by someone other than

lost, amnesia, the who am I effect, stripped
of definition left to wander, alone, solitude
not withstanding

silence, fog, zero visibility, vertigo, how then
now to find the way, naked and afraid exposed
before all the elements

yet one stands apart living without love for it is
but a fragmentation, solitude provides a safe
place for the wanderer whose character came
into question

found in the shadows of the fringe on the outside
looking in shedding life like a skin, every step a
journey, each blister a story

a loner by default needs no one to describe them
with fables and tales of grandiose ideas for they are
the glittering generality of a person or persons wishing
to make something more out of what is not

life is life, while love clearly is a corruption of an idea based
upon a need, self-discovery is then a voyage within the
innermost world where one can define themselves as they


Happily Never After

Life, it’s all about choices
which define a direction,
some of which are blind
leaps of faith while others
seem a bit more rational
in the promise of something
better than the present

in every choice there is
a giving up of one thing
in order to have the other
and in this, it is a rare occasion
that one can honestly say they
have considered what it is that
is being given up

to state my case clearly would
be to admit to a thirteen year
relationship with a ghost, who
became trading stock for someone
other, someone I could touch
and feel, someone tangible

the making of that choice became
the choosing to release the spirit
of one most dear for a perception,
which led to the day in which I
became a choice not taken

wise advice finds its way within
through hindsight clarity to where
greener grass exists only in thought

people often say the pain will ease
in time, but the only thing fading is
the memory, which is now two-fold
and I am angry, for one chose me not
but still loves me and the other, I gave
up perfection to be left with nothing

I feign a bit of happiness so that those
who cannot see past its veil, will justly
believe that I’m alright, but then there
are few who know better

and now to no avail, I have tried conjuring
the ghost while growing increasingly weary
of what I seek, wouldn’t it be perfect if when
we made a choice that didn’t work out quite
in the way we expected the previous would
return without question like nothing contrary
had ever happened?

said the one holding nothing, it doesn’t work
that way! when you let go you let go, there
are no do overs, no punch backs, no mulligans

and to the ones who were not chosen, and still
hope for happily ever after, you’re standing at
a crossroad called happily never after.

Katovski 2017