Halt

There is this imperfection, this almost “too soon to see” the light can blind, the path unseen

Frightened of the tightening of the hands that take a second to understand

What it takes of you to let these fingers slip the sand

The tracings and the viewings of the child

“Why is the night dark, daddy?”

As if innocence knew, but protected

As if no one knew yet perfected

Their wishing according to their needs

Their proceedings a revealing concealing of the self

And its arms, the shelf and its harm, the cave and its charm

And I neglected in you, what took of me a decade to renew

Age has nothing to do with it.

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Tangles

I’m wide awake, yet working on autopilot

These generic modes we delve into, the aftermath so specific

 

Fierce is he who wanders through the jungle, and becomes civilized

Coward, who crucifies the Holy for not handling the beast within

 

I am talking to that one person that might just listen

If he understands, it’s as I’m talking to the world entire

On behalf of all those that mean the same, only in different tones

Language and sight a barrier to those that seek what they have lost

Don’t they know, boomerangs are knives wanting to slit

The pure?

 

Protect me from this, crusader

Your cause has won, but you have lost of me, what empties the secrets in the mud

As they reveal themselves to the rain

 

She will walk as walking is done, subtly

They will see not where she came from, nor where she is going

But the meaningless meaningful stingings that have staggered along the way

 

It might just take a minute

But all your life has lead you to that one minute

Days pass like they were nothing

Then why do some things stay eternal?

 

You are a shape unsizeable

You hold volumes uncountable, in your mystery

I wish I could leave off on a simpler note

How could I? Knowing that these tangles will only unfold when I understand the purpose of complexity

Honest mistake

It’s everywhere, it’s everywhere

I feel crowded in this empty room and alone in a crowded room

Paradoxical only when you haven’t been there

Only when you haven’t felt the same words mean different upon repetition

LEAVE me alone” “Leave ME alone”

STAY gone” “Stay GONE

 

Serenity

Where have you abandoned me?

It happens everywhere now, did I tell you? It happens everywhere

Triggered

What theme do I fit you in? You were everything

I see a glimpse of you in every tangible, intangible only in these distorted memories

 

I’m doing it again, this little thing where I trace back my steps

To make sure I don’t step on the lines I’ve already stepped on

Mistake

noun

Definition 1: “an act or judgement that is misguided or wrong”

Definition 2: “something, especially a word, figure, or fact, which is not correct; an inaccuracy”

verb

Definition 3: “be wrong about”

Definition 4: “wrongly identify someone or something as”

 

I burnt every page, except the corner of the last one, last abstraction

Because every time you ended a thought, you pressed the ballpoint a bit too hard

Almost to the point where, the next page, inherited, the pain of the precedent

Your subtle ways a secret I have kept

You, on the other hand, have vanished

“Just because you’re around doesn’t mean that you’re around.”

Kudos

The fragility of it, the harshness with which you face it

All these patterns, we fall in love with

You have taught me to be gentle with myself

And for that, I am indebted to you, all these lives

Unaware

Of their own power

This is what I’m putting forth; sue me.

All these secrets, we’re butchered with

Time and again.

<<>>

I don’t know what’s worse, an explosion first thing

or little ‘coming togethers’ of complexities

that in retrospect, make less sense in isolation

It’s funny

Almost as if you could explain it

But I mean hey

Kudos to comedians and illusionists

Who make it seem effortless

while we all waste away in the trance of these happenings.

Places in faces

IMG_20171124_001725“Do they not think that their words have weight?”

There has got to be a face that is read for what it is
Should time really account for innocence lost?

I mean, to lose that which you left behind in childhood and go back to it again, aware

God knows how much I’ve stored, meaningful in its meaningless description
And how much I’ve discarded, only to be met with it again, in another form

A feather in the stream
Trying to regain in flight what shed it

“The mysterious weakness of men’s faces”

“Smooth and smiling faces everywhere, but ruin in their eyes.”

Had I expression enough, to walk you through it

It’d feel like I’ve robbed you of His revelation

My bones shiver, my voice trembles, as this thought becomes concrete

Pale as dusk, disillusionment; two-fold

Subjective and objective truths

are not enough

Cage into your mouth

This rubber band, I mistook it for a

boomerang

We poured white sugar instead of brown

in coffee already brewed

‘It tastes the same’


It’s like ice blocking fire, tough and strong

Until it gives up to the heat, weeping to bemoan

Another controversy between right and wrong

And the flames, they smile back, cynical


They creeped up and crawled along,

and we failed to decipher the movements of the withdrawn


Could you fit a cage into your mouth?

See what it is?


What is praise but a few exaggerated words?

What is this world but a constant state of hyperbole?

Sympathizing with my shame,

Here, take your consolation prize

Go.


It is just fumes laughing

yet crying

at

and with

smoldered leaves

in a bonfire

we lit a century ago


Mortified, like a skeleton

Wanting to vanish

Because even without life

It was still

labelled as

being a martyr

for flesh


The soul that had veered off course didn’t turn cold and bitter

Then why did you?

Journey

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

Abraham Lincoln

Maybe in a different paragraph of the same story

I’ll understand both sides, I’ll sympathize with the instrument being played

rather than the hands that are playing it.

Maybe I’ll interpret music, like a canto

from take one till take four

and applaud the musings in the music, and the

scattered parts of my brain lying on the floor.

…….

Why can’t the effects of the mind and its working, let flow the faucet interrupted?

Everybody knows, explosions fantasize about the calm anyway.

Like the river ragin’ at the soil like a bull, not letting it create its own path,

New inventions and meanders heard erosion and took a stand.

What are these bonds we create but mere phantoms looking for ways to stay

Like the thread that keeps cloth woven, yet we thank our body for the warmth and not such day

Roam lost, you’re but a feather shed by an extinct bird, going with the wind.