my past is filled with oedipal encounters: many men i needed to rival
today i unintentionally travelled (really?) today i involuntarily travelled (no way) today i travelled into my past:
memories of many men that i needed to rival. due to my fatherless childhood i didn't have a man to compete against; that's why i JUMPED at countless chances to do so. none of these conflicts happened by chance.
i picked strangers to compete against. but then there was this day. a certain day. a secret night.
since then, i have gradually and later on gently overcome my need to compete.
i was bewildered today because i competed against another man. why?
out of the dark, i developed an affection for a woman younger than me; a brief moment of ****** interest. the competitor involved walked her home after a meeting the three of us had been together.
while they were strolling down the street, i followed them. i wanted to see what they were doing. i wanted to observe how they observed each other's attraction.
did so for a couple of minutes; they didn't take notice of me; or they were playing dead while their mouths were overfilled with squishing sounds of saliva.
and then –– as promptly as old patterns of rivalry had emerged –– i lost my affection for this young woman.
affection left my soul like a spirit leaves a dead body. the affection vanished into thin air since it couldn't find a shelter in my soul. so this wired affection went on a quest for another creature.
i didn't say goodbye. just wrote something down.
Inspiration for this poem gained from YouTube: "Native American Flute Music: Meditation Music for Shamanic Astral Projection, Healing Music"
Were I to sit upon a throne And gaze, amazed, that I alone Can change your life Can grant your wish Deny your rights 'Fore rights exist As I see fit And thus my whims By my decree Can change your life Should I see fit
Oedipus I, I Ordipus am Am ruler of this wretched land Upon my throne I sit alone Alone I sit, alone I am I am alone I Opedipus Rex, I ruler of the dregs
Sprinting through the meadow-- Sun warmly brushing skin. Tickled by the wild grass As afternoon games begin: Exploring creeks and forests And all that lives within. Scrapes and bruises commemorating The quest for long lost kin.
Tiptoe through the garden; Whisper through the tress. In illuminated darkness, Be hushed by rustling leaves. Flowering rows exposed So as to be kissed by passing bees; Dancing down the aisles, Damp earth cooling your bare feet
Sitting on the window sill, Watching the passing day. Attention turned towards the hearth Once night takes the view away. Surrounded by the things you know, Comfortable in the array. Simple now, was simple then And simple may they stay.