And so we watch and so we learn/With eyes wide for our dreams to yearn

Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Diwali in Two Voices

In my current travels through India, I’ve had the chance to spend time with Deatheaten. And what better way to document experiences with two scribblers such as ourselves, than through poetry?

Today was like a buffet which I did not start because there were too many entrees
And yet I still could not believe that the stones beneath my feet held me
Let me start by explaining how fireworks wok: first there is gunpowder, then there is fire – the rest is poetry
No, it’s all just a song, variations on a theme transcending this universe
In a way, Diwali is the biggest firecracker, and we’re just balls of flame
Some only fit to fizzle out, or be shot down by stupidity – others full of decent whiskey, something more
Everything bursting in the sky, and reflected in the water below – the sea, everything we see
And in that, the watchers are not merely observers, but feeling and reacting one and the same, that unified BANG
It’s good music you know, when you see it after hearing it
But not quite as good as music you reshape in the moment, surely
So we’ll stop telling you about Diwali – and get to the bananas
For there’s nothing quite as violent, as sunglasses slashing throats, with a delicate lady finger
…that’s what she said
(He wishes)
Well the lady is a firecracker
And thus, through gunpowder, we have created poetry

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Human

You.
You are not a simile. You are not a metaphor
You are not a machine or a puzzle or a piece of equipment, you know 
You. 
You are human 
Breathe it in now. Feel that, tendons and muscles of your diaphragm expanding? 
Yes, there is engineering there 
And hear that, the tiny hairs of your inner ear registering vibrations that your brain is translating, into sounds and then meanings
– yes. 
Mechanics.

But you. 
You are not a car or a phone, to be taken apart. 
You do not belong in a tool shed, sitting on a workbench;
You do not have a specific set of calibrations on which you will always run perfectly 
please
Let go of your toolbox. 
Your vocabulary is that of an engineer, but people are not things to see broken and repaired 
– breathe. 
Swallow. 
Your insides may resemble the motor of a car, but you are infinitely messier than any model they could design. 
We were never made to be perfect. 
We were never made to fully understand how,
To deal with others of our own kind – o
r even our very own selves
– yes
Hold out your hands and watch fingers intertwine 
How supple skin and tissue moves to fit against another,
Watch new handshake l
ike an enzyme reaction, and yet even more goes behind this
– we are malleable 
And ever growing, don’t you see?
W
e were never meant to fit our own hands together, or be the entire solution to any puzzle
– this isn’t a design flaw,
We are human 
And we were made to grow together.

Please.
Leave your tinkering terminology behind for this one,
Put away your spanner
For you are not a spare washer, or a rusty piece of circuitry 
You are not an engine or a radio or a cybernetic sentience, 
You are organic
Kin to the trees and vines that stretch their leaves haphazardly, in perfect Fibonacci swirls
Out into the wide world, seeking sunlight and nourishment;
Even if you were to be autotrophic, still you would depend upon another,

This collection of eukaryotic cells conglomerated into a whole you call You,
Multicellular Singular
– yet saying you do not have an affinity for organic lifeforms
Believing that amongst the rest of us, you are somehow Other?

For you are not a simile, or a metaphor, or a piece of equipment
You are messy and complete and completely natural,
With internal systems more complicated than even you and I may ever be able to understand
You
You are Human 

My Littlest Sister

Moon bright, moonlight
Stars fill my eyes
Fire burn, take your turn
To warm the midnight skies

Misery, don’t come to me
As the sea is always there
A mermaid sang with gracefulness
And a mane of silver hair 

Dolphins play, just everyday,
Like moon beams with the sun
My heart is filled with pure joy
Cause I love everyone 

The reefs are filled with wonders
That I’ll never see again
But now the moon has left me
So I’ll wait until I’m ten 

Moon bright, moonlight
Please bless my lucky star
With hope and no misery
I’ll seek out wonders far

A Series of Unknown Poems

A person I once knew shared these with me. He never gave me any names in regards to who wrote them, but they’ve stuck with me. So now I’m sharing them with you.

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧

Dreams, Pain and Perfection

The music slowly fades away
Giving way to boundless sorrow
Emptiness that won’t disappear
With the coming of any tomorrow.

The darkness deepens by the moment
Shadows lengthen with the dying light
Can you hear the silence growing
Sealing our fate tonight.
 
The dreams go up in smoke,
Scarring deeper than the skin
And when the thoughts begin to choke,
Hope starts to wear thin.
 
The pain and the perfection
Of memories of you,
Reminiscing of times past
And thinking to myself ‘What if’.
 
Too many times I’ve turned away from you,
Looked away when I never wanted to.
Blinded by something I couldn’t see,
Dead to something that was in front of me.
 
Yet now it all seems so right,
What we wanted will be tonight,
And all else slips from my mind,
There’s only one thought I can find.
 
The rain can’t dampen my spirits
Anymore than the pain
So perfect that everything’s wrong,
The mirrored illusion shatters.
 
The dreams go up in smoke,
Scarring deeper than the skin
And when the thoughts begin to choke,
Hope starts to wear thin.
 
The pain and the perfection
Of memories of you,
Reminiscing of times past
And thinking to myself ‘What if’.
 

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  

 

The Power of Dreams.

 I walk in the shadow of a cloud,
The wind and not the sun adding colour to what is around me.
I implore it to wash away all my dark times.
Those times spent under the sun.
The gale blows my mind clean.
It carries me over the sun,
Something which seemed bright once.
Time is not the only healer after all.
My heart is opened to the storm.
Its raw, numb, coldness soothes and numbs my wounds.
Growing sick of my body, I am lost with nature.
My soul rides the crests of waves,
Floats through the sky on the wings of an albatross,
Explores the deepest chasms and mysteries of the earth.
I cannot describe where I am or what I do.
Nature takes me high, higher than I have ever been.
My mind is healed, so I return to my dead body.
And as life claims it,
I wake up.

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  

 
Left. Right. Up. Down.
Its a series of twists. Turns. Ups. Downs. Inversions. Madness.
Just to make it less of a mess.
Make all those little colours line up.
Make it look better.
 
There are some who don’t bother.
Who take it as it comes.
They make no effort.
They aren’t bothered by the dissarrayed and disoriented layers.
 
There are some who go by algorithms.
Who just follow someone else’s steps.
Do it over and over again.
Just to see how fast they can get.
And take steps to make it smoother.
Cushion the impact.
No point really.
Doesn’t get you anywhere.
Doesn’t give you anything to be really happy about.
 
Then there are those who do it right.
Use their logic.
Make the right decisions.
Live through the bad luck.
Take advantage of the good luck.
Who take it apart just to find out how it works.
They’re going to end up the best.
 
But the thing is, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it.
Doesn’t even matter if you don’t arrange it all.
If you have it, you’re gifted.
 
Left. Right. Up. Down.
 
Do it whichever way suits you best.
Its yours to choose.
 
And for all of you who haven’t got it.
Its not the cube.
Think outside the box.
This is life.
 
 

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  

 
Looking up at the stars,
I wondered how they got so high,
What they were motivated by to reach such dizzy heights..
I saw their true state,
To be more free than a bird over the ocean,
Than a whale in the sea,
To be held back by nothing but your own will,
To have nothing higher than you,
To be more than human…
The majority of humanity still remained,
Held back by the shackles of mortality,
Encased, cocooned tightly in the web of life,
Stuck forever with no escape,
Fumbling in the darkness with unseeing eyes,,
That could not open,
Even for a rare glimpse of the sky.
I then looked upon what we were missing,
The whole, open, unseen outside.
Where the visionaries and heroes dwelt,
Those who had taken the leap,
Not looking back but only going farther,
Purposeful, yet purposeless,
Bending the world with pure will,
They lived, nay, existed with a freedom that was real,
Impossibly breaking out of the cocoon of mortality.
How was I to cast off the chains?
Where would I find the key to the lock?
The strength to jump that high,
The strength to jump that high and not look down.
Where were life’s secrets hidden?
Looking inside me,
Searching my very soul,
I found all I needed.
It was enlightenment.
In addition to mundane senses,
I saw what was real.
Using pure will, I cut the cocoon.
The chains vanished into nothingness,
I decided to be a star.
I was now master of myself,
Time had no power over me,
For I controlled it with pure will.
I was free, unbound, to use mundane language.
Not looking down onto the cocoon,
For I had evolved,
I was more than human.
Looking forward, I could not stop going farther.
I was higher than everything else,
God could not hear me,
For I went higher than he.
My experience now transcended language.
For humanity,
I left this manuscript in the cocoon,
To try and give,
A rare glimpse of the sky.  
 

In Which I Really Need To Make Travel Plans

There is not enough said
About longing for a new home
For the places you haven’t been to
For the worlds you haven’t known

There is not enough said
About yearning calls over the sea
Life you can so clearly imagine living
If you could only just be free

There is not enough said
When your town is the back of your hand
And you ache to find your other pieces
Buried with hearts in some other land

For when you know the feel of home
In a place every detail strange
There is joy to be found in unfamiliarity
And reassurance in change

And when you find new friends and love
In a world still foreign when you leave
You have to wonder; “Why the fuck did I go?”
“I need more time to live, to breathe;

“To find my rhythm in curiosity
With enough memories made to fill
What’s missing inside me – that exploration
And new discoveries I know surely will.”

For home is where the heart is,
And mine is big enough for the world to share
Now my problem isn’t finding all those places, though
But the monumental task getting there

Intentions

They say actions speak loudest and words are for naught
When evidence remains cold, but I’ve always thought
Intentions, honest meanings…don’t you see?
We can all have reasons that don’t show plainly

Do what you must, you can say what you will
I trust you – I do! – I know you mean well
How I feel is arbitrary, malleable still
Your intentions are what hold, no matter how the dice fell
Surely it’s rational, to seek perspective and grow?
I think that it’s healing, to try and understand
Where you’re coming from, why you acted so
So I can mould my story like the palm of my hand

That I can curve to yours, a shake or caress
I know you, I trust you, I love you and yes
Sometimes words can hurt, sometimes actions sting
But when intentions are good, how could I ever bring
Myself to feel anything but compassion for you
When I believe what you mean is to be constructive and true

I never see a reason to hate you, begrudge you my pain
Because that I can nullify, and love you all the same
And please forgive me, if these rhymes are too cheesy
It’s late and my head hurts and poetry’s not easy!

Having a Coke with You

Frank O’Hara

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it


And in reading this I know that I love you. That the mere minutes, every shred of time I have been blessed enough to have, to know you, watch you smile and hear you laugh, are never going to lessen in value for me. You are golden, beautiful, human masterpieces, flawed and real and vivid and confusing. And I love you. I will always love you, all of you, and I will never stop thanking the stars for the chance I had, to know you.

The underlined parts are the parts that I most found moving and profound, just because it seems poetry can be read either as a whole, or as a collaboration of words seeking to connect with others who feel something as well.

I hope that maybe, maybe, you felt something, too.