How can I understand others so easily, yet form no connection to them?
There are parts of me which are so foreign to others that they cannot comprehend me.
There are parts of me that are so similar to others that they form a connection with me.
I cannot [will not] reciprocate this.
I am entirely wrapped up in my own self, yet still I am Lost in the sea of everyone else.
NARCISSISM: self obliterates others
CO-DEPENDENCE: others obliterate self
EMPATHY: connection and understanding
I took an unfamiliar trip
way down under to bendemeer st. today
got me slowly stirred by
one of my old dreams
that strangely took place right there
the tellings of it all says,
they’re probably a small visual part of our future
it’s unusually kind of erratic at how
wicked my brain could keep such delusions
and I could bloody swore I wasn’t
wildly straying off in that foreign place alone since
it now seems to have you,
The word feels foreign on my tongue
Actions make me run and hide
As if no one could ever love someone
As hideous and dirty as me
That's what you want me to believe
That no one will ever love me for the way I am.
So you sit there and whisper in my ear
It's okay, he can touch you like that, this isn't wrong
But it is
He should treat me better.
For a while,
I told myself that I would figure you out
I would understand why you are the way that you are
I would fix you
But it was never that simple
Sometimes, people hurt people just to hurt them
As if they find pleasure in it
You loved to watch me squirm under your knife.
I always thought you loved me
But now the fog has cleared
And I see that it was lust.
you said i was exotic,
and i said ooo
what do you mean?, like
exotic like a fruit?, like
i don’t know what tropics
you think i came from, was
imported from, but you read
my skin like the label
on a flavour of coca-cola
you had never been
offered before and i
was refreshing, and
different. and you liked
the way my coke-bottle
curves felt beneath your
fingertips, said you’d never
like me before,
you said i was exotic.
like i was a work
of west african art,
even though my mother’s
from the east, like
i was from a storybook like
1001 african nights, like,
you saw my cover and you were
hooked, never did think to
look beneath the jacket,
just wanted stories like the
ones scheherazade sold,
i was your sheba
and you my solomon.
we rode lions across
the sands, your kiss
was salt on my lips,
i needed to quench
my thirst and you offered
me the brand new flavour
you said i was exotic,
like a pretty foreign thing,
like just some thing,
some mail-order thing,
just for you,
a flavour of coca-cola that you
had never tasted before.
I am growing a flower
'Twas rooted in good soil
I nurtured and watered my flower
It grew strong and bold in color.
Then a day came when foreign seed found its place and tainted thy soil
As nutrients became scarce
I poured more water so the soil became soft as I fought the foreign seed
I wept. My flower has rejected the nutrients from my water.
I fought till every foreign plant had been removed and rebuked their roots
I nurtured and watered my flower
It grew stronger and more bold in color
I have a new flower in full bloom.
"The flower fades, the grass withers, but the Word of God shall stand forever."
Empty streets await for me this night.
I wonder aimlessly in this foreign land.
Silent voices that fade with the lights.
Eastern winds taking me by the hand.
Voice of Aisling beckons me to come.
I'm named Ciaran in this land unknown.
Here in this place so tall and gray...one
losses sight and what relief can I find?
Memories flooding me, taking me back.
Branded by a clauddagh, embers of her
Aisling, ever present in my works of art.
Misty blue heavens, emerald valleys...
Flowing hills that stretch for long miles.
In my dreams does she always appear,
My soul breaking with longing for her...
Still there's nothing that compares to her...
To the beloved of my heart, my Aisling.
Ever do I miss her, oh Ireland of my heart.
I came to this world,
As a twisted seed.
Drifting along in a realm which,
Did not belong to me.
But these roots have sprouted,
Now suckling on lies
A foundation built on malnutrition,
And a trunk full of wickedness
To be ingrained is a nightmare,
This forest is for the damned.
These branches reach for home,
But cannot escape the canopy.
Underneath the bark of the horrific crown
None are surprised to see how hollow...
....I have become.
the words that flow from my soul
to my veins and out through my fingertips,
to most are obstructed by either confusion, misunderstanding
or whatever other baggage they carry that won't let my abstract thoughts
penetrate their unfortunate heavy epicenter.
never have my expressions been powerful enough to break them,
i met you, spent half a day with you, and you left,
that was it, gone, just like that,
1,000's of miles away.
but however, whatever ill-fated scenario that was,
we speak to each others soul, lover we don't even have the same native tongue,
yet you understand my core better than any other that has ever entered my leading light.
i'm taken back to a child-like state,
i feel scared, forlorn.
i'm afraid just like an absent father,
you will provide me with certainty that it will happen.
sweetheart, i hate to break this to you but,
age doesn't pause for life, love or the desire to pursue you
as scary as it may be, if what is spoken to me is true
that dive, as deep, as dark as it may be, know i am writing to you from the depths.
i vow, i won't let you drown. please, babe, dive in,
my skin is only withering without you.
love & art, 1991