Stream of words

Recently I came across a stream of words, and putting them into separate blog posts, made it dominated by crappy poetry. I decided to put them all here, and keep it all focused. Enough for now. Back to work!

shutterstock_94482739

Limitations

Do not love “other” people
Do not love those in distant lands
Do not love them when they wash up on your shore
Do not love those who grow the “wrong” plants
Do not love your neighbour
Do not love those with the same genitals as you
Do not love those who you work with
Do not love intimately more than one person at a time
Do not love yourself

Dear society,
I don’t love the lines above

Batoni._Diana_and_Cupid_(1761)

Falling in love …… again

Shy and
unsure,

you pull on a string,
and knock on a door.

My heart opens,
eager to go
where there’s the new, the exciting, the pure.

The mind calls to it
as if from afar:
“are you sure?”

You’re soothing, you’re warm, you’re kind,
you’re gentle, and close,
so close, until you’re far…

My heart cries in agony,
the mind awakens,
it tries to make sense, but it’s taken
aback by heart’s pain.

It wants to regain
balance,
but the strings have been attached,
and you tumble its coils
with feelings so powerful, so varied.
You’re strong, persistent; you leave me no choice.

Go home love – you’re drunk,
I’m already married.

Flowers in the gardens outside Qorikanca

 

Hidden beauty

Flowers litter the streets.
With bright colours, and scents
they compete for those
who might pick, and lift them
higher than the rest.
They say hello to my nose,
which drags my neck to turn,
for my eyes to see their slender stems.
They’re all different, yet
my reaction is the same.
Blood begins to rush to my perky head,
the mind not awake enough to react in time.
I stumble, and almost
fall to the ground.
In the last minute I regain posture.
Ooh, another one…

But I must continue walking,
not let my attention be devoured.

A withering flower
stood quiet to the side
Clad in Autumn grey,
resting on a frame.
She said to me:
“I’ve been there before,
I’ve played this game.
They picked me a few times,
then dropped back on the ground.
With each fall, I formed new roots
my colours would fade,
I became more resilient,
and trusted myself
a little more,
although each time it felt
like the end of it all.
One day a quiet one came,
He picked me and my fruit,
when others turned away.
He watered me, and spoke softly,
with love, and patience of a saint,
and I cared for him,
until he had to go to the other world.”

She finished, I walked on,
a bit more awake,
and aware of all the pretty flowers,
that don’t play the game.

no-not-now

Release

That’s not how it meant to be!
Your shoulder’s cold,
but it’s twenty five degrees.
I’ve offered a hug
and kissed
a glass door.

I speak like a mute to you,
your ears untouchable.
I’m racing through memory
looking for a clue,
get stuck in a labyrinth
of emotions.
To whom do I turn?
I suffer explosions
of fear.

What happened between then and now?
Why are you so far,
when you used to be so near?

Was this all a dream??
Did it all happen in my head?
Your arms around me,
our legs entangled on the bed…

This nightmare must stop!
I wish it to go!

I drop all my demands
and expectations towards you,
as soon as my heart returns.
I’ve sent a search party
of logic and reason.
We hope to find it still in this season.
The outlook is positive,
they’ve been taking turns
looking for the path it may have taken.

They found it on a cliff
looking for relief,
put it in a bath
of vodka,
and if I’m not mistaken,
yours was not far…

Lying motionless on a cart
pulled behind by your brain,
beaten into submission…

You’re off on a new journey.
You’ve taken the next train.
You have a plan,
and there’s no room for turning.
With a goal ahead,
your feelings must be kept
under strict control.

I will do the same.
My heart’s asleep.
I’ll put it on a chain,
and though it may weep
for a while,
I wish you farewell,
and goodbye.

http://postcardfrompuniho.blogspot.co.uk/2009/07/toppled-pawn.html

Powerless

An annoying nag
pulls me inside
away from reality.
Puts me on the other
side of a rift.
Suspends me in midair,
feeds me with a gift
of images and sounds.

A travelling wave
of embrace
comes forth,
engulfs me,
touches all my strings
deep within.

The real world doesn’t
easily give up.
it slices my eyelids open,
thrusts a pin through my heart.

I want to go back…
Nevermind the road,
the track I’m on.

I must be strong.
With the full authority
of a pawn I take back
the driving wheel,
and get sucked in again, and again…
When will this end?

The nag is still there
looking at me
from the corners of
its neural pathways.
With each glance it
solidifies its presence.
Pulls the pin out of my heart,
and glues it together.

You are not rational,
you’re “just a feeling”,
you’re an “unmet need”,
that demands filling.

How can I help you, dear nag,
to go away?
To leave me alone,
so I could focus on travelling
the path which I’m on?

I do hope to reach the crossroads
one day.
To see your fast moving train.
Once more embrace the feelings I felt,
to fill that need,
and to see you go off on your road again.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *