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irinia Aug 2023
my hands are full of waves, walls, kisses, common faces
a shamanic design sometimes
but they still can't bear the weight of words
in a language without wrists

I am a Jane Doe on a metaphoric journey
cause time isn't waiting for me in particular
so I won't waste any more minute on the description
of the darkness of language
better start writing the memoirs of the time to come
LeV3e Aug 2023
We are all so flawed that
When we attempt to trace
The face of divinity
The names scrawled frantically
Carving ink into our skin
All of our moral failings
The meaning lost in translation
Though we try again and again
Allah doesn't ring the same as
Yahweh
Zywa Jul 2023
The words are there, and

they are lost, unfindable . . .


just suspension points.
Expressive aphasia (damage to the Broca's area)

Novel "The Good Apprentice" (1985, Iris Murdoch), chapter 2, part 5

Collection "Unspoken"
irinia Jul 2023
finally this moment is here, I've been watching
and waiting, I've been hearing it all along
in between your words, in the center of the stories
you tell so eloquently, so clever, so wise

there is light in your right eye, some shadow in your left eye
the evening light is sweetly illuminating the magnitude of loneliness
some feelings need at least two people in order to be bearable

you sat and listened you looked deeper into your body
language receded, obscured itself like the moon
sometimes there is no need for words
something more important needs to be created
in between bodies and minds,
the flow of connection, of true partnership

the waves started, the waters of loneliness surfacing
you cried your tears and I cried mine
as I listened to the silence of tears I understood: this was the moment for a few simple words: I see you, I am here
there is no falling deeper than this for now
truth, this scarry creature, was there in your flesh and in mine
your loneliness was like a sea without horizon but the shiver of depth  like a voice without screaming, a bird without flight

perhaps this tango with tears will fill your lungs with innocence
as you imagine a new horizon, a new architecture for happiness
This is a series of poems about meeting people, about how people pass through my body, my heart and my mind.

"Thus, if a resistance is in operation, it indicates that one is experiencing his or her thoughts or feelings as a danger."
irinia Jul 2023
you
you and you and you live
inside me like unknown songs
you sometimes throw me words that
make me forget I am language too
I dream the dregs of mystery like an inocent deer/apple/bird:
we are beyond categories we are elementary natural
we vibrate the nets of wonder with our finite fingers

the world is self-referential in my poems, so
when the sky is full of milk it becomes silence
when the sky is full of continents it loves its silence
you must reinvent the cycle of reciprocity if you want to feel the earth in between your dreams
your thoughts have paths of fire, mine are water slides
you sleep I dream you run I pause you sometimes sigh and I dance
oh, I allow only the mystery to preach for you in me not to forget
all words
Zywa May 2023
Poems can be vague,

naming the unnamable --


unsilencing it.
Collection "The light of words"
Zywa Apr 2023
All he could do was

hiss like a snake: Hizzizze-


rezshzmeezezzymuzsh.
"It interests me very much", from the novel "Het Bureau - Afgang" ("The Office - Failure", 2000, Han Voskuil), pages 340-342

Collection "Not too bad [1974-1989]"
Dibyendu Sarkar Mar 2023
Words are frauds
You, me, they, them all we
Lost under the same tree.
Despite our differences we all are connected by a common thread as Humans.
Zywa Mar 2023
It is code language,

cipher: Zjellwe zjoh zjouvezj?


Shall we go to bed?
Half-sided paralysis

"Het Bureau - En ook weemoedigheid" ("The Office - And also wistful", 1999, Han Voskuil), page 174

Collection "Not too bad [1974-1989]"
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