Every fiber of my body is on edge, seething with a burning urge to be alive.
More alive than this repetitive stasis that is Educational routine.
My blood thrums and sings with the desire and yearning for otherworldly adventures.
The uncontainable demanding within my soul that CRAVES more than a dull life set within the confines and standards of a society that has disbanded the thrill seeking pleasure that is and was the old world. Now we have to pay a small fortune in order to obtain a moment where we transcend grey and our colors blast and shoot through the spectrum in solar flare heartbeat pulses of excitement that dulls far too soon.
I want to taste sea salt and raindrops on my lips, grains of sand beneath my feet.
To feel every nerve in my body alight with the spark of something more.
To face the unknown, not in a city nor my home cowering for the remainder of my life.
But to claim my destiny with both hands, clutching my glaive firmly in battle stances while gazing unafraid into the eyes of my nemesis, my enemy. To duel it out on stormy seas, sails billowing, lifelines secured, braced upon the slick decks of pirate ships soaked with rain while torrents of wind lash at my body during a dangerous battle between lovers, demanding my downfall at the hands of nature but instead of falling to it I would prevail and arise. Where lightning cracks across the sky like a golden whip, where thunder roars in agony across the cosmos like Atlas holding up the weight of the sky.
Engaged in the throes of battle while the air is rich and pungent with the scent of steel and the satisfying clang of blades locked in combat. Sword against glaive, antagonist and protagonist.
To battle and seek, to pursue those who dare take whom and what I love. To become MORE. To transcend the fabric of dreams and turn all this into something tangible, to grasp it tight and shower the seeds of dreams into the soil of the real world, and to help it bloom into a reality I've wished for my whole life.
Instead of sitting around writing about how much more I long for. I don't want to be trapped in columns, in places at certain times.
To change the world, to alter my dull fate and the chance to make the stuff of my daydreams and night visions into more than just letters on a page. To whisper and weave the song of those worlds into the fabric of this twisted reality and watch as stardust mends the frayed edges.
Perhaps it is this fate, that my dreams never see the light of the midday sun
that there is not a strong enough conviction nor skilled weaver to bring about the change I long for.
We grow up in a world filled with fairy tales and books filled to the brim with stories to capture our imagination and you cant expect me to suddenly still be content and satisfied with the damnable grayness that is the black and white of our world that will never be filled with color.
And I will be doomed to write out worlds and cultures I can never touch and interact with, never will I be able to grasp the soil of the other worlds and exist within the places I make.
Never will we, of earth, trapped inside dull grey columns ever truly experience freedom.
Not even with our words for we cant even paint the sky a different color other than grey, and the ground beneath our feet will only ever be black. Despite the colors we think we see, they're not the colors we want. Just pale washed out shades of worlds we will never be a part of.
Nothing So Sensuous
Last night, I went back in time and met Alice Liddell in 1862.
Alice Pleasance Liddell, known for most of her adult life by her married name, Alice Hargreaves, inspired the children's classic Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, whose protagonist Alice is said to be named after her. See her, greet her, in my banner photo, and all will clear.
nothing so sensuous
as to watch a woman,
nay, a woman child,
brush her hair
in the mirror.
more than sensual,
all my senses
luxuriating in a gift that
her head titled,
from her chest as far back,
your eyes see waves
of chestnut in
the smile on her face
for the knowing that
all of you.
she languidly strokes
though it needs it not.
no, she brushes you
see her eyes,
in the mirror,
the woman's sensuality
every sense alerted,
you body fired,
she has you,
and then she asks...
would you brush my hair?
have you ever been in love?
have you ever had to tell someone
you no longer loved them
though you still did?
Oh yes, Oh may I?
yes, with you totally, at this very instant.
yes, for I
must leave you
and return to
my time, my age,
150 years from now
the only way
I can do that
is to lie to myself,
no, I do not love you
not that way,
for the agony of this
is such ecstasy,
that I can
only dare to
write of it,
in my time,
lest I fulfill
it in ours.
Also, must make reservation well in advance. Small time travel machine accommodates only 15 people....and currently the only "destination" is Victorian England.
He beckons me
with a gleaming steel soul
He promises me
and dances in the dark
He shows me how to live
and I look through his window
and see that he is protecting me
from his own dark demons
with him I know
I'm never alone.
Sometimes I feel his grey tormented spirit
and his skin rough with
a million cement experiences.
The wind whistles through his framework edges
there is always a light on - in the city.
I am like the cracked sidewalk
With fading colors and
Roots breaking through
The sidewalk is ancient
And not very beautiful
Just plain and gray
With millions of stories
But with not much importance
Walked all over
Having seen thousands
of lovers pass by
And countless memories created
But it didn't partake in any
And no one seemed to ever
Look at the sidewalk
Or find beauty in its cracks
It was simply just to step on
And walk away
Without a thank you
So it slowly covers
With dead fall leaves
And chewed up gum
Developing more cracks
Desperately waiting for
Maintenance to come
days are spinning by and i think this is what remission feels like
i wish i could write
but this is all that i feel.
constantly losing battles is so hard
we play a losing game
i long for the person i used to be
or is this the person i’ve always been?
hold flowers between your fingers and think long and hard about something
something that you want real real real bad
maybe it’ll come true
so full of pain trying to be subtle i should be bleeding
word choice alone
should have given you a clue
and the consistent undertone of raw pure unadulterated angst and bitter humor
that isn’t funny at all.
Adventures In Good Deeds
i helped pick up the trash and i thought about volunteering at a soup kitchen
if only i could find the on switch
5 Hour Energy .
am i decent enough for one word biographies?
do i hold enough presence for silence?
can i afford to not begin my sentences with sorry?
i am barley a person
just a body with good organs
and no license to complain
“ma’am kindly shut the fuck up no one cares.”
that’s what they’ll say to me i’m sure
the thought police
who hate me and i don’t feel anything towards them
because i am nothing but apathy and stupidity
i don’t deserve anything
not joy or bad i don’t deserve either
not because i’m neutral but because i’ve never done anything to feel anything
not that i am undeserving of feeling the bad things
but there has been nothing in my existence to make me feel
spoiled brat woes and hearts sealed with classical silver duct tape
maybe a dash of pepper on a delicious meal that had no need for pepper
on the dot
sunday’s for church where the atheist goes because he fears and dreams
The sweet and salty tang of ocean foam
The free smell of freshly cut grass
And lemonade made fresh from the lemon trees in the yard
The smell of glue and ink on paper
The soft sound of pages turning and coffee brewing
The thousand colors of illustrations
The quiet promise of a book missing its cover
The heavy taste of honey in the mornings
The bright, spicy smell of freshly picked apples
The tangy reward of apple cider as the nights cool
The laughter that fills the air after a long day of harvest
The love and comfortable silences of family
The chaos of a dinner table in the evening
The excitement of holiday baking
The curious wonder of a walk through the woods
The warmth of a fire during the winter
The value of a hard days work
The stories of war and childhood told during the storm
The calluses on my papa’s hands
The scars that my grandpapa wore proudly
The smile lines that my grandmamma let be seen so easily
The lessons that my mum gave us everyday
The gift of a childhood friend
The adventures only children can have
The risk of sneaking out when everything is quiet
The quiet suffering of a friend in pain
The loss of what I held closest to my heart
One stroke at a time
The image of me growing better and more detailed each day
Drawn with the experiences of family and learned morals
The Past of those who had lived life for longer than I had
Giving me depth and value
My own mistakes make me original
SELFISH EDUCATION MINUS POETICAL WISDOM
MAKES THE WORLD LAME
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; email@example.com)
Nothing is wrong with selfish education;
Career is an important part of a good life
Much of human life over the years
Is devoted to career acquisition
In oblivion of poetical wisdom
Philosophy does not make it any easier,ok
For apothecaries to remove a prostate gland;
Apothecarical education is long, arduous and dear in cost
Never temper it with apparent irrelevance
But poetical wisdom soothes the tools
Helps apothecaries to volite in dilemma
Poetical wisdom is essential for apothecary’s work
Without it; apothecary tells a mother-to-be
Your baby will be a dwarf dwarfishly
The apothecary explains the mother’s options yet in fault
Since it takes more than just knowledge of genetics
Since it requires an understanding of suffering,
Of disappointment and puerperal attachment
Apothecary tell a daughter but in sham; that
Your mother’s life support needs to be removed
It takes more than just knowledge of physiology
It too requires an understanding of emotional loss
A casualty room apothecary goofs to avoid despair
When faced with a baby battered nearly to death
By its own zinjathropus father
Such horror requires a faith in humanity
That cannot be learned in the selfish education
It’s not just apothecaries absolute
To benefit from a broader learning
It is but entire humanity
Studying drama would no help financiers
Devise capricious financial parasites
That doomed the world into financial mire
But, if they were familiar with Faust,
They may have thought twice about
The consequences of their vice,
Being able to sing from Shelley’s poems
Will not help politicians get elected
Carousing Ozymandias might make them more humble
And thoughtful about their accomplishments
Rupert Murdoch might not now be shaking his head
And whining; how I wish I new
Instead, he were to echo Shakespeare’s words
About how easy it is to be; done to death by a slanderous tongue,
I sing this poem in a crouch in the twilight
Around the world as my audience
Behold poetic eyebrows of my comrades,
A generation of humanity familiar poetical kingdoms
Of history, philosophy and literature is a wonderful vision
Doubts not that reading Goethe
And Shelley and Shakespeare guarantees wisdom
You are correct, kudos to you,
Reading, by itself, won’t make anyone a sage
Experience is a pertinent Florence
As Odysseus learns on his journey back to Ithaca,
Important lessons can only be learned the hard way
Through bitter experience, perhaps has a change,
Youth start out with sex, drugs, rock and roll
With experience they eventually emotions decadence
In calm appreciation that; nothing to excess,
Tragic exceptions like poor Amy Wine house;
Only serve to prove the rule, there is a problem,
Ergo, Experience alone cannot guarantee wisdom
Any more than reading books can
The lessons of life are only available
To those who are ready to learn them
If wisdom is the goal, then humanity must walk 10,000 miles,
To read 10,000 books
Said 17th century Chinese philosopher, GU Yanwu
Becoming wise requires more than set of adventures
But a cultured mind that is open and liberal
Readily able to absorb the lessons that experience teaches
Pasteur famously said that; Chance favours the prepared mind
Our job as learning humanity is to take his words seriously
Prepare mankind to learn from experience,
Humanity is to go beyond selfish education
To learn colours of hope in the poetical wisdom;
Life, death, tragedy, love, beauty, courage, loyalty
All of these are omitted from selfish education
yet, when it comes time to sum up our lives,
They are the only things that ever go places,
Catholic priesthood ever admonishes the flocks;
Thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return
A salutary reminder of what we all have in waiting f
Like the Preacher in the Ecclesiastes;
We spend our years trying to find some meaning in our lives
It is easy to fall into the bottomless pit
Life is tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing
But before humanity reaches Macbeth’s conclusion,
We must provide with the poetical glory
Musing fortunately as all humanities is anxious
There is a thirsty for poetical wisdom
Which parochial selfish education cannot quench,
There ought to be a list of great poetical works
From east, west, north and south of the world
Globalectically Nursing poetic urge of the earth
With which every piece of humanity should suckle
In wisdom that Books have the power to convey wisdom,
From these poetical sources that humanity learn about love
And loss, about memory and desire,
About loyalty and duty,
About our world and love-bound universe
And about what it means to be a human being
the way you make me illuminate
and make my pupils dilate
whenever when we go out
on a starry night with endless bliss
oh darling, let's go outside
make things worthwhile
instead of sleeping
let's go kicking bad habits
in the dark we could do things
lock my finger with yours
and cross your eyes with mine
let's be infinite and forget the world
If you never leave the pond, you'll always be shallow.
The big fish swim in the sea.
The wide, open ocean
Holds much bigger emotions
than the ones found alone in me.
Let me be silent, soft spoken.
But leave all my doors open.
And loud when it's needed
or when I feel defeated.
If I keep on swimming I will have completed
attempting a mission
on superstitions, or
feelings found in me.
It is a motion to be open,
and if the words remain unbroken,
we can keep them as a token
of adventures in the ocean.
If you take them, find the notion
there is something to devotion,
there's a difference between floating,
swimming and sinking,
and I have been thinking
I'd rather be drinking
than being this inkling of and
Perhaps to be freed,
to other fish in the sea,
is what I would need
to be maybe a little less shallow.
The sand sparkles, glitters in the sun. This California morning feels like the mountains in Spring. I am really here. My adventures continue to become an ultimately pleasant dream. The skies have been cloudless, the birds chirp ceaselessly, the sun warms me, leaves me with a color I can't get in winter. To exceed my expectations, a stirring of some feeling dwells inside of me, threatening to burst into an explosive love. That's what it feels like. This has been buried deep for a long time, never quite forgotten, just left alone to simmer, now it's boiling. I question, wanting to know what's next, won't leave to let this time last, always thinking ahead to know what's best and I digress to a time lost, a time no one was to blame, best to lose so we awaken in a new state, a fresh slate, grown up. Wisened up. Wired. Neither of us were expecting this. Time flies when you're having fun has never had such an understated meaning. I didn't understand what mattered and if I should care any more. I didn't realize the allure would capture me and transform me like it did. Who have I become by the person I found? I didn't think this would ever happen to me. Certainly not in this time in this amount of time. Promises. My mortal enemy, a nemesis of my hopes and fiend of dreams. Desire. To remain, to abstain, to maintain. I don't think life will ever be the same. The motivation had been withheld, a fear that my good intentions would be shot down. With eyes opened, from a second party, my confidence defies willingness. I don't want to leave now, but I can't wait to start this.