Unyielding,
Immoveable and dense,
Stuck in place,
A blank mind,
Submerged in quicksand.
Categories
Tag: personal
Categories
An Ode to Mangoes
Your fragrance,
Simultaneously bewildering,
And calming,
Sets into motion,
A desire for memories,
I follow my nose.
Ah, there you are,
A sight for sore eyes,
Pleasing curves,
Coloured softly and brightly,
Shades of green, red, yellow, and orange,
My entire being aches for you.
I move closer,
My heart beating faster,
My yearning for you,
And a past life,
Grows with every step.
I am here,
My precious,
I had forgotten,
My fondness,
for your plumpness.
I reach for you,
Feeling your soft skin,
Running my fingers,
Along your familiar shape,
One of you will not do,
I want all of you.
Come home with me,
I will bathe you,
Caressing you lovingly,
Before I devour you.
With every move of my hand,
You surrender,
Your wetness drips and splashes,
A heady sweetness,
From another world.
Your flesh in my mouth,
Intoxicating,
Ignites fireworks in my mind,
I struggle to consume,
Your every last drop,
Every last morsel,
I do not want to forget.
Categories
Social Isolation
He paces back and forth,
Stamping his feet,
And for good measure,
Flips over some furniture,
In the living room of my mind.
Dressed in slacks,
Shirt and a vest,
A tie and polished shoes,
Hair neatly parted on one side,
Moustache a neat horizontal patch.
Let me introduce you,
This is my madman,
He sometimes puffs on a pipe,
Pacing back and forth,
In my living room.
He is a man of many tongues,
Mumbling to himself in Turkish,
Cursing in German,
Yelling in French,
Arguing in English.
“Listen to me!”
In an operatic overture,
He gives multiple directives,
All conflicting with each other,
All seemingly both Right and Wrong.
So powerful,
I attempt to compensate,
Balance and direction,
But it’s too late,
In this moment,
One lens is blue and the other pink.
I scramble for my,
Compass of decision-making,
I cannot believe my eyes!
The madman’s cacophony,
Has led North chasing East,
West dancing around South,
True North rendered indecipherable.
He leads an orchestra,
Of conflicting instruments,
The Emotions section,
Clashing with the Logic section,
And the Perspective section trips on its own feet and plants its face into the ground.
All this in my living room,
Wherever shall I bring my guests?
And how will they react to this man?
He will surely spit in their tea,
And slap them upside the head.
Categories
A thoracic study
Dear reader,
I feel a lump,
Behind my sternum,
Lodged in place,
Neighbour to the heart.
We had talked about,
How we were different,
But the unspoken truth,
That our love for each other,
Was not strong enough,
To overcome those differences.
An untruthful truth.
Dear reader,
What is this lump I feel?
It will not leave me be,
Right between my lungs,
Tight.
Categories
Kindness and the Fool
The Fool is eternal,
Always there to greet you,
Under any circumstance,
With a cold grin,
That spreads from ear to ear.
The Fool comes to You,
Without a finger lifted,
The way you wish Kindness did,
But Kindness is no one’s weakness,
The exact opposite,
Of what the Fool consoles you:
“You’ve been hurt,”
The Fool cups your heart,
With a comforting hand,
Wicked with long sharp talons,
“Sharpen your words with my whetstone,
Brandish your daggers,
Red-hot your brand,
So as to leave them with a mark,
They shall soon not forget!
Ready your fiery whip,
If they show you kindness,
They are showing weakness,
An opportune instant,
To lash them across the cheek,
Leave them with a kiss,
A reminder of what is to come,
When they move against you.”
You look at Kindness,
Their back turned to you,
And so you lash your whip,
No obstacle to distract your aim,
A smile plays on your lips,
You’re winning,
You feel protected,
Righteous and with dignity.
You’ve been hurt.
Doesn’t Kindness understand?
That complete and utter fool,
Full of weakness!
You are legion,
Kindness has their back turned,
Not on You,
But on the Fool’s army.
What else would you call an army,
Of recruits who whip,
Lash and stab each other?
Unaware of any common cause,
Or of the mission?
Every now and then,
When there comes,
A synchronous lull,
Within their ranks,
Kindness sends some words,
For those who might know,
How to listen:
“I am Kindness,
I am a difficult choice,
As eternal as your Fool.
In my care,
Are a legion,
Which moves in unison,
They do not gain dignity,
By taking it from another,
Their worth immeasurable.
Your whips, brands, daggers, and words,
Leave only marks quickly healed,
My followers are survivors,
Humanity’s caretakers and builders,
Veterans of Fools’ armies.
My followers choose to be kind,
In spite of and despite,
The deepest of gashes in their hearts,
Now covered in scar tissue,
While yours continue to bleed,
Comforting talons digging ever deeper,
Every time you look to the Fool.”
This beautiful bird,
Settling on a perch,
Colourfully bright,
With beak and bite,
And full of pride,
What a sight!
Here in this locked cage,
Again prepares her rage,
The fight of at least an age,
Well-worn this page.
She readies her stance,
For this next dance,
Her beak a sharp lance,
Eyes in a keen trance.
Moving swiftly into action,
Reduces her obstacle to a fraction!
This winged warrior,
Victorious in this skirmish,
Exits her prison with belief,
And with a sigh of relief,
Moves closer to freedom.
Finding comfort in larger bounds,
She claims the next perch,
And with keen eyes starts to search,
For the target of her next lurch.
What a journey it has been and continues to be. My first poems posted here shine a little light on some of my own transformations over the years, themes such as burn-out, losing faith in myself, and giving up, and trying to understand who I was at the time.
Then came along a beautiful soul who has an ability to untangle my giant knots of thoughts and provide me with a different yet accessible perspective. To grow, I learned, I really needed to address, with myself, my tendency for self-resentment, self-punishment, not accepting myself for who I am, not giving myself the respect and love I deserved. I’ve reached only the first step (i.e. the realization) and only after a lifetime.
