They say I’m disconnected
that I’m withdrawn
that I wander off a lot
Aloof—someone who doesn’t conform

but what’s wrong with that?

why should I act
as if I am the same with others
when I’m trying to be myself---

---myself, who likes to think a lot
myself who sometimes doesn’t want to talk a lot
myself, who I am still trying to find
myself, who I am trying to build

what’s wrong with that?

and I can feel what I want to feel
I can be happy
I can be miserable at a certain time i need to be
I can be confident
I can be assured


I can shut down
and get away
when I feel like everybody
is draining the hell out of me

I’m just human
A person of my own
I have my individuality
ain't even stepping on anyone’s boundary

if I am like this,
what is wrong with that?


- c.s. (120319)

.
The vessel was empty. It was always empty.
The vessel was a body. A Nobody.
Too young to fend for itself yet abandoned to face
the onslaught of a life unprepared for.
It was a satellite, a burden, an unwanted encumbrance
upon the lives of those that spawned it.
Those that should guide, educate, encourage and love.

The emptiness had begun early
and grown into a void of isolated disfunction.
The ship of emotion sailing into a dark sunset
and the cold loneliness of night seeps easy
into the vessel already devoid and senseless.

There had been early years but forgotten
were the vessels memories and experiences.
An era of ancient history with no notations,
undocumented and lost in the ether.
No sense of belonging or conformity
were instilled by those meant to teach.
Instead the blind vessel gropes dangerously
around a world unfamiliar.
To make sense of existence.
To justify its worth.

But worth is subjective.
Of no worth to its peers it protects itself
absorbing the cloak of the worthless.
A litany harshly reinforced by cruelty
dealt out by the tongues of resentful tormentors.

And so left to its own devices
attachment becomes an arbitrary concept.
The revolving door  of brief and useless association.
Meaningful liaisons few and far between
as its walls provide protection from feeling hurt.
So the vessel was a body. A Nobody.
And the vessel was empty. It was always empty.
Always... always... empty.


© Pagan Paul (Aug 2020)

sssshhhh, did you hear?
it's an amazing day today!

so rise, freshen up!
open your window, light a cigarette,
brew yourself a cup of coffee (or tea, if you prefer that)
freshen up!

because whatever's in line for you today,
the world is out there, welcoming you with open arms!

so raise your glass,
let's toast to a new day ahead!

and when the night comes,
the stars and the moon are going to look down at you smiling,
congratulating you for doing great today!

Somewhere between the here and now lies a place forever, where I stand with you in the morning sun beside a waterfall and watch the river of creation flow gently to the sea .

To take you in the water like a nymph all dressed in dew , while our sprits soar to mountain tops to fly with eagles and climb with ewes . In love is an eternity that cannot be concealed , but no matter what you say of it it’s only what you feel .

She wears a ring on a chain
around her neck,
never hides it away
or acknowledges it.
A plain silver ring
aged and smoothed by time
though the chains have changed
once in a while.
Sometimes when she reads
or when deep thoughts distract
her fingertips gently caress.
It's her's, this ring she does posses
and of it's secret
I'll often wonder,
but always respect.
In all of these years
I've never asked.
I think a part of her
is grateful for that

Dew beads on web tendrils
too soft to stir the spider
too unobtrusive to cause grass tips bother
Early dew
soft and silent
like tears hidden from a sleeping lover.
An exhale of morning's breath
in condensation
its swell captured
Droplets form
in the midst of dawn's sorrow
for the departed night