Jurtin Albine

Jurtin Albine Feb 2018

What does it matter how old?

Don’t you know
that you’ve plateaued?

What are you waiting for
when all your dates are already told…

It’s over before it begins;
you’re dead before you’re born.

Now I'll spend the day
trying to remember all the things
I’ve said…

All the things
I’m going to say…

It matters not.

Both ways are dreaming.

Everything is so unreal…

Reality is screaming at me.

Can you believe it?

I’ve done nothing wrong,
but that’s where it lies.

The wrong I’ve done
is being alive.

Feb 2018

Iska

****** Rose

'Why is it so painful to grow?'

A seed.
Just a seed buried under the ground.
Under the pressure of the soil,
It fights to grow.

The seed cracks,
such a sturdy little seed,
opens with a painful snap.

A sprout coils out.
Out of the cracked little seed.
A sprout now crushed under,
Under the pressure of the unforgiving ground.

Yet still... It grows.

A little sprout,
Now reaches up.
Up and away from the little seed,
and up to the light of the sun.

Pushing and groaning it bursts out.
Out from the unforgiving ground.
Yet now new dangers are to be found.

Will it be trampled
Or eaten alive?
The possibilities are endless,
The ways it could die.

And still.. it grows.

The sprout toils endlessly,
always stretching and growing
Reaching for the crimson sun.

The rain falls down
beating upon the sprout.
Pelting it's skin and whipping it about.
It skin hardens painfully,
and sprout becomes stem.

And still It grows.
The stem keeps reaching,
Stretching to the sky.

The stem then splits
It rips in two a bud appears
A little bud,
With so much to do.

Then the bud breaks
A crack appears
a petal unfurls from within.

Then it's a bloom.
Such a sweet little thing.
Until the crack stretches
So the bloom can grow
In to the beautiful rose
We've all come to know.

And still.. it grows.

Thorns burst free
Breaking out of the stem
And petals billow and grow in the breeze.

Then you see me,
And my beauty delights you,
So you wish to see me every day.
And your scissors encircle me
To give you your way.

They cut me in half.
They slice me in two.
being a rose,
There was naught I could do.

You carry me with you,
Your hands coated in my blood,
I'm dying slowly,
All for your love.

And now... I can't grow.

So as I bleed and wither in pain,
You place me in a vase
Or press me in a book,
All to save the bloom for another day.

And as I gasp for air,
Among your dry pages,
You leech me of all life,
Perfectly preserved
just so I could last the ages.

Or else I am drowning
In glass and water
My beauty wasted
hour by hour
Day by day
All to satisfy your whimsical ways.

And now all I wish to know,
'Why is it so painful to grow?'

#rose #pain #grow #life #death #heal #experience #metaphor #blood #hardships

Jurtin Albine Feb 2018

Corner Store Feelings

Their there when you need them…
Nice and easy.

But they don’t fit the taste,
they just fill the space,
and the real thing is hard to find…

I know.

I search around with nothing in my hands.

A seeking heart
and a troublesome mind
that doesn’t decipher wrong from right all the time.

Getting lost in confusion…
(A great delusion)

If instincts knew
I wouldn't get caught up in brands
one to seven,
seven through eleven,
and twenty four hours a day.

Heaven reigns semi supreme,
as if there’s a chance to get lost…

I can see over your love
to the aisle of her hate
and his getting in my way.

When I pay I put on a face.

As I go home I swing and sway
my waste
in front of everyone’s face,
while two the same age as me walk hand in hand.

And if I were to return twenty years now passed
I would see them the same…

I guess they’re more of the tailored type,
cut to fit and dry cleaned,
hand washed and air dried...

Mine cycles far to high.

Every look carries with it some thought implied.

I gathered and divided
all into the same bin
and I've got the corner store feelings
once again.

Jurtin Albine Feb 2018

If the World is Ending I Want to Believe that there is a Tomorrow

The time between talking
leads to the thing to say next.

And if we’ve grown so far apart
to think a thought
that the coherency of our relationship
stops making sense
then I'd wish for you to point out this.

I wouldn't want an act of understanding
leading me to believe that everything is alright,
while you go over inside
about something you're too afraid to express.

Going over the same old things
without a point
can be quite useless…

I wouldn’t want us to become this.

She sees me there in minutes past.

I give in for something that relieves the pain
of things to give.

It’s not without the games we play.

It’s all within itself.

Self contained and exploding at the seams.

And if the end is now
I still want to be dreaming
one last dream
about all the many other dreams to dream.

And so it seems it goes by in the blink of a cry,
or the tear of the eye.

And an answer to the many:
Who would know what's best?

To lurk in the shadows
while waiting for all the dreaming
to be put to rest…

But it appears to me
to be
an impossibility.

Even if this is
The End.

Jurtin Albine Feb 2018

A Snowflake Within a Hale Storm

I keep going…

Even though my meaning is misconstrued.

I truly believe that we are even.

A living life that’s unfulfilled.

I wait patiently for someone who
will come and be with me.

It’s not that rejection is my enemy...

It’s that my enemy is me.

I know you’ve heard it before
in a way that’s more familiar,
but what can I say
when I feel so similar.

Where is she?

The same place as me…

Tucked away out of the others
eye sight,
or already passed,
but too nervously afraid to say;

‘It’s not okay.’

‘I’m not you;
you're not me.’

The world turned without a pair.

It was us who interjected purpose,
it was us who tried to find reason,
it was us who wrote the meaning,
and it was us who gave in too easily.

A passerby,
or one in too many…

Could it be so frequent
that it was unnecessary to care?

Or so few that I lost it before
I even knew it was there…

I don’t know what to say about that...

‘Love lost people,
As war seeks lives.’

There I’ve done it.

I’ve crushed a rose
and lifted a bitter note
above an atmosphere
made up of a little more than sound,
but a little less than a passion from
something that somewhat comprehends…

I’m human and I don’t understand...

The sun shines violently,
I light where it’s been,
and together we wander.

We know not of,
Just yet,
Where each other roam…

And before it’s all over
I only hope we find one another’s
hidden home,

as we float towards
the final resting earth
within the icy stone’s storm,

traversing chaos’
insignificant unknown...

alone.

Jurtin Albine Feb 2018

Sing Along

See the beauty of the world,
let it burn a hole through your soul.

Let it be there when you're alone and unknown,
or awake and afraid.

I’ve seen you before
beneath the stack of memories...

You were there and I was free
bursting on reality.

Or thoughtfully giving time
and not dwelling on mine.

The catalyst of hope
in the horrifying abyss.

The creation of change.
A transition into a new phase.

Life’s so full,
Why wait so long?

This is not a song,
but we’re still singing along.

Jurtin Albine Dec 2017

A Bleeding Heart Out on the Whim of Hope

You
(Poets)