This is a fine exposition of that which runs deep, and is the driving force of dramatic poetry, the things left out, or things poets are too afraid to say about the sticky end of our subjective experience, of death, drink, despair - which it has to be said, has been the catalyst fro much great poetry . Ellipsis then - if I'm understanding, is what you leave out, as in "I must away" .. Your poem, quietly and cleverly leaves it up to the reader to insert the missing remnant link, I like:
"What is this fear of showing self, of giving self away?" One's self, my self, your self. That being the case, I like the title. Also some finely crafted lines, although, i was puzzled by "nous runs amains" - I maybe got lost in translation.

Also, cracking line:
the crutch of Jester’s fools

only suggest dropping it to the simpler reading
"the crutch of Jester fools" - I think we can all relate to that..

In a world obsessed with "selfies", and where Narcissism is elevated to an art form - and true self examination seems to be too scary for some, this piece rings true Wes, fine read, enjoyed, and intrigued.

Thanks.

Chris.

I'm actually in Norfolk on vacation at the moment, but bobbed onto site today.
Hell, Wesley, this stopped me dead in my tracks, not only was I knocking back the drink, to try and get into something so transient, I can't bloody grasp it at all, but the depth of this poem hit a chord.
What do we leave out................. so much, because we daren't say it.
Fear of rejection, fear of being misunderstood, fear of acknowledging self, fear of.......... fear of........ and so the list goes on.
The only thing that helped me come out of a really sterile period, was to stop chasing it. I read as many poets as I could, Betjeman helps me, probably not fashionable now, but he's a damn clever poet.
Then who am I to talk, compared to some poets on this site, I bludgeon my way through.
But I think this is one helluvapoem.
Jx
PS I actually prefer Jester's fools.
Makes the drink more of a Jester's tool.

You rose to the challenge... almost.

Why do you think my preferred forms are haiku and limerick?
Fear of self-exposure.

I feel the first two stanza's say it all. Although I do not understand "cloven" , a word I've only heard in relationship to the Kosher rules that does not permit jews or muslims to eat animals with cloven hooves, such as horse...and do i have a clue about nous run amain, but no matter, the first two stanzas, with the creative rhyme scheme, hits the chord.
The last two stanzas lose me, especially the last, introducing booze as the the only thing that helps- i think that's a separate poem altogether .

Hi Wes! it's Rory. I know I don't really know what i'm talking about, but, ... Wow, it's great! And deep. Very deep. I like it!

Of course I'm here! Your poems are too amazing not to read! Did I use the right 2s? Hello everyone! I hope to become a better poet with the help of Wesley and all of you. Also, I am really an alien from planet Gluglop, so I'm one thousand, seven hundred-eleven, not eleven. (; Did you see my first poem? It's called 'all of everything.' And Wesley, I LOVE reading your poems.

You know how I always suggest changes and as per rep here are some :

I balance on the edge of what they call my lyric mind
and leave bloody, cloven steps of razor’s walk behind.
Depression squeals, my choked muse reels and I’ve wrought naught but thought.

We watch the flame the candle makes, but no one sees the wick.
The poet hides the closest parts because he deems those parts sick.
Nous runs amain, it flees the pain and all I write is naught.

What is this fear of showing self, of giving self away?
Mechanics only I demonstrate and all I have to say.
I tell a tale and all bewail, but where is the poignant phrase?

It’s only drink can help- my poesy rings of kitten’s mewls
and drink is coldly transient, the crutch for Jester’s , fools.
I refuse to share and will not dare until I cease my days.

I'm not sure this helps in the manner you are looking for but perhaps the simplification and clarifications will make it a bit more identifiable to simple people like me. BTW I liked this even before any changes......stan

fly above my dull
bald skull
it's now difficult
but to cull
old age devours us gradually
yes but surely

your poetry levels soar
beyond where eagles soar
and
by composing like you
I dare not bore
else for my aging malady
there is no cure

I tell every one I am a bore
they can now only smell my words
a poet I am of lure
I don't conceal myself
as I am
no poet
any more

Fantastic to get new poets on the site, all are here to learn, and there is always someone to help you improve. Good luck,and look forward to your posts.

Cheers.

Chris.
PS Wes, gets better the more I read it (always a good sign), and your explanations helped.