Until you have bent your ear to Shakespeare's sonnets,
Till you have laughed with Ogden Nash,
Wept with Frost, visited Byron's ghost,
Read the songs of King Solomon,
And once you
Despair of being their equal,
Shed your winter coat of worry,
Screw your courage to the sticking point,
Begin to write then with reckless courage,
Unfettered abandon, make a fool of yourself!
Scout the competition.
Weep, for you and I will never surpass
The giants who preceeded us, and yet,
Laugh, cause they thought the same thing as well...
Here I am
heaven and hell
I sit on my balcony
and watch the gnomes
in my neighbors garden
Waiting for them to come alive
like they did in the stories
my mother used to read to me
I thought I saw movement
but it was either a cat
or a ghost
In the morning
I went to the post office
but it was closed
So I took her present
for a walk
through the forest nearby
As if I'd find her at the end
of the overgrown track
and deliver it personally
When I returned home
the gnomes were dancing
and I could almost see her
spinning in the middle
In the hustle and bustle of a metropolitan city, I searched you down. Stalked, hunted and fished you out. Out of the 7 billion people, I found you, and that was all which mattered. You. Your hair still soft and ruffled with care, you lips still pink without usage, or so I hoped, your eyes, sparkling as always behind your thin framed silver glasses. You, with your bold look, walking across the streets like you own them. You, with you heavy and slow steps walking to your destination with a purpose to conquer. You.
And in that unknown city, so far away from the root of our existence, with mindless honks of drivers and a play of lights everywhere, I found somebody that I used to know. A face not forgotten, yet changed, eyes which haunted reappeared and a voice which lingered rung in my ears. I found you.
I would purposely bump into you, pretending to be in a hurry, pretending to not recognize the only face embedded in my soul, drop my valuables, say something like my identification card, give you a quick smile and a sorry and run off and disappear into the wave of the crowd.
You would just stare at the card. Be reminded of a life so distant, possibly a life forgotten, probably forcefully. Be reminded of how a girl, crazy and wild, young in her years, had come and gone from your life. Be reminded of the question you always used to ask yourself "what happened?"
I would hide to see your face grow white. You had just seen a ghost. A ghost of your past, who you had forcefully left behind. Now, after decades of separation, years spent not even giving it a second thought, years spent away, you were reminded again. The fire was lit again. The fire which made you pick up the card, stare at the number and automatically dial it up. I would say "hello", at which you would cut the call still unsure of what you would say. Scanning, devising a plan, you would call again, only this time you would talk.
"Hello", I would say confused.
"I found your wallet miss, remember you bumped into me earlier?"
"oh yes thank god for you sir. Tell me where you are and I shall come and pick it up."
and with that you would let yourself go.
after all, a "hi" i all we need to melt, to fall, to die, all over again right?
and with that I woke up to the alarm screaming in my ears to remind me that reality still persisted, and that it would take more than a dream to get you back.
i'll teach you what it's like to be a ghost
how to move from space to space unnoticed
how to blow through rooms on fire
how to be nimble
i'll teach you what it's like to cut a noose
with a dull knife
and not bring down the whole house
i'll teach you how to take weight in your arms
and how you can get them to look you in the eyes
when they can't see through their tears
i'll prove to you
you can remove a heart
without breaking it
if you carry it in your throat
if i could impart to you
how to take a portion of their pain
without wearing it like a cloak
or exchanging it for guilt
i will show you.
i'll teach you what it's like to be a ghost.
I went to school today.
Everyone seemed to walk through me.
My words were unheard by any.
My actions were left unnoticed.
I walked up to you today.
I looked you straight in the eye.
You looked back but you saw through me.
You walked and you went inside of me.
My body dissolved for a second.
It went back to shape.
That is when I noticed I died.
It came to me like a dream.
I really was murdered last night.
The machete that I held went through my heart.
My ghost is still here.
I am meant to finish my time on earth.
I have to get you to notice me and fall in love with me.
How do I do this now that I am dead as well as invisible?
Nothing is impossible I guess.
I have been shallow, I realize that now
Considering my impact on others first
Leaving the concerns of materialistic importance for myself.
In this double life I have been leading I have fooled myself
Trying to find reason to believe in others
I ignored that it is myself that needs believing in.
My critical eyes have become my enemy
Rendering me blind to obvious faults
Without knowing, I have trapped myself deeper in their clutches
Focusing on disconnecting from my mind
Backfiring because I'm back in their world
Unintentionally, it's all I think about.
It's time to rethink my strategy
Take a refresher course on my mission.
Attempts to suspend the command unwanted have been countless,
And unknowingly, I have deserted control of the living, breathing, me.
I blindfolded myself, but still peered through the gaps
So I'm closing my eyes, and pray sleep stays for a while.
Keeping finger and thumb apart
That is the one connection we shall still share
But no longer will i try to believe in my two selves
No, I will start believing in the person
The being that my movements and choices will give effect and reward to.
Me, out here. Living and breathing.
The ghost of me will never cease to exist
She will float, and I will let her continue for a while.
Don't fret, my beloved enemy, I'll be back soon
A Wendy to this Peter Pan story
Returning with needle and thread to sew my old shadow to my feet.
But now, I'm flying, no, walking back home.
Curled on the sand
Ten miles back,
I saw the ghost of myself
And hauntings of my past;
I saw the shadow of a body
And my bones decaying at last.
Disfigured and hanging from a tree,
I saw my heart dangling above me
And my bloody fingers mangled in debris.
Singing in a valley
Twenty years back,
I discovered the remains of my voice box,
All blistered and full of cracks;
I discovered the accompanying crusty lips,
Lightly humming and unknown track.
Twisted and frozen in ice,
I discovered my one and only vice
And my once golden hair, laden with lice.
Once pieced together in perfection,
Has fallen apart
And become my collection;
Everything that was flawless
Is now enveloped in infection.
i'm feeding off of you
like a ghost feeds on fear
my eyes wander
but my ears are planted
I don't move my mouth
for fear of interruption
and you have one more time to cut me off
If you see the wonder of a fairytale
the midnight trysts of the snail
the laughter of the whale
the hammer being hit by the nail
The elephant afraid of the mouse
the cuckoo burgling a house
the old woman who lived in a shoe
the ghost who couldn’t say boo
The giraffe who hated the smell of his feet
the hyena who’s laughter was like a drum beat
the ant-eater who didn’t eat ants
the day Donald Duck forgot his pants
These thoughts made me giggle
I hope it gave a funny bone a tickle
There is this space that exists inside.
In between my ribs and just under my heart.
It's not in a place to constantly remind me of its presence there.
But it does get nudged from time to time.
It holds onto things I've tried to rise above, to let go of...
But never fully doing so.
Things like negativity and doubt and stubbornness...
Like self esteem bruising childhood judgements.
Like bitter regret of missing out on "I love you" before someone dies.
Like ignorant teenage decisions there was no reason to be making.
Like that secret you told and the one you promised to keep.
Like dutifully cleaning up after destruction since it was easier than starting over new.
Like the coltish grace of learning to be a woman without one.
Like leading a child with having no direction of your own.
Like taking that last piece.
Like hoping karma takes over.
Like waiting for a sign before walking away from toxic people.
Like throwing your heart out there with only faith and hope to be its wings.
Like innate fear of being alright with who you truly are.
Like disappointment for taking all these years to figure yourself out.
Those are some things that rattle around on a quiet and calm night.
On a night that finally arrives after strenuous days bleeding together...
They ghost in and remind you they're still there.
It used to terrorize the still moments when that happened.
No control over the flood of images and empathy associated with each and every reminder.
I thought it was in times like that, when drowning with the sorrows of yesterday was just as easy as an exhale.
But I was wrong...
I was mislead in my own thoughts.
Because when I was tapped on the shoulder by history.
It wasn't trying to hold me back.
It wasn't intending to maim my conscious.
I believe in fact, it just simply wanted to show progress.
To show the "then", compared to the "now"
How every piece of who I am today was shaped and structured in part, to everything I haven't let go of yet.
How do you know when your soul is weaker than strong but mighty enough to fight?
In being made to contemplate all the wonderful and fulfilling things and parts of who we are,
We also have to give credit to the dark pieces
The events and people that have burdened and burnt but never destroyed.
Like any balance in life we acknowledge both light and shadow.
Appreciation of the good in our lives is more fluid when we have proof of the struggles we've overcome.
Be it years ago or hours,
Seeing how far you've come from that which had held you under or has trampled your spirit.
It helps enlighten bit by bit.
And a step at a time is how we all move forward into who we're meant to be.
So i think, that space that exists very close to my heart but just far enough away...
I think I'm okay with it being there.
It may hold scars in the eyes of others
But I know scars are just golden reminders;
Of that which make us stronger.
For if one has no scars, what has one conquered?