less than a spirit
its voice inaudible
color exited life.
is truly tangible
a spirit with a bright aura
its voice so enticing and loud
that color is entering life again.
A love like this isn't a love to miss
I visit my memories of happiness
In my head
Painted fiction drowns out my vision.
The realization that ...
This isn't Love
Attachment at best
my dear , our love is but a game .. a shame
We hurt each other to feel love we create to blind our pain..
The centre of me aches.
My circle is full,
There's no space for you
But yet you push
Encroaching on my depths.
The need for warm drinks on chilly nights.
The arm on a shoulder after a weep.
The ache from a belly laugh so hard you cried.
A space I didn’t know needed filling.
I’ve lost you before I had you.
You’re not mine to keep.
The centre of me aches.
My circle is full,
And yet you’re there,
lurking in the tall grass
all ears for years
but I knew...
Caught a whiff
and she still stayed hidden
teasing and teasing
looking for the right time
such alien patience
equal only to madness
Why must we crave and long for love when we do not have it,
Only to waste and abuse it when it's in our unworthy grasp?
We search and tear the world apart for a great love
Yet we take love for granted when it is finally tangible
It's a cycle of tears
Too hard to give up
Too painful to repeat
I live in a world of vapors,
Nothing is tangible,
No thing can be grasped.
I grabbed you and you me,
Hand in hand we went together through the steam,
The gas that is this world.
We let go and couldn't find each other again,
Our bodies could,
But in the world of vapors that wasn't enough,
I was your liebe,
Someone else is now.
You refused to live in this intangible world,
I couldn't follow you to the world of money,
Trips in my car,
I don't have a car.
I remain alone in this unclear world,
Trying to kidnap someone,
Destined to always be
Nothing more than a ghost.
Although on page two hundred and twenty
it must come to end,
for two hundred and nineteen and a half pages,
I found on this tree-pâté
(I don't know where ink comes from)
Patrick for all his lonely sorrows
has taken me, sat me down in a blanket, and hidden me from the real world.
From touchable, grabbable joy
From the cold touch of a dead memory
From the contorted warmth of a lover about to take a journey.
From the satisfaction of a day job
From the numbing repetition of a day job
From anything tangible I hide,
and while away awhile.
Page to page different circumstantial photographs,
beautifully, hauntingly captured, some of them,
all in his warm tongue and keen hand.
I wonder if I know these things he speaks of.
I am so close to them
I can see them
I'm in my blanket
My tongue in my mouth
My hands on his pages
My ears greedily lapping up his nutrition (too quickly to taste)
and my mouth is dry.
Not a callous touches my skin.
Not a memory picks up a pencil.
Not a lover contorts my limbs, my neck, ruffles my hair.
I can ruin my own hair.
I can stand up and see through my eyes as well as his
I might feel tangible
And I'll write a poem about it
Quite free, quite confused
That's the way to be
You can't win or lose
That's the way for me
It has honestly been a while since I've ventured this deeply into the inner recesses of my jumbled mind.
Reason being that I have become ****** into the popular misconception that only grand ideas and realizations deserve note worthiness.
However, what always seems to escape our recollection is the grace that often lies within simplicity.
Take happiness for example; I've always wondered what happiness would look like if we were to bestow upon it a physical form.
The Shape of happiness might resemble glass...Simplicity in plain sight
Though you don't usually notice it, it's still definitely there...
You merely have to change your Point of view slightly and that glass will sparkle when it reflects the light.
I doubt that anything could argue its own existence more eloquently...
This piece begins by an admission of neglecting my mind for a period of time. I began asking myself why. Why nothing "wow"ed me anymore. Why nature was no longer beautiful. Why a gorgeous full moon was no longer a sight to behold and stars were blending in with the lit skyscrapers above.
The world had somehow ****** me into thinking that in only big and grand things could inspiration and happiness be found. But what about nature? An ever constant presence. Even while undergoing four cycles of change, its fundamental charisma remains the same. Always there to uplift and bring us together. What about the moon? The lamp of all lamps. A consistent reminder of community between those who share its shine. And must we mention the stars? Galaxies far away and yet obvious in our skies. Each the piece of a bigger constellation which tells a whole new story passed down for generations. When we start to think about the world around us for what it is, so much can be revealed. We start to make connections that were staring us in the face all along. We just spoke of nature, the moon and the stars...while probably failing to realize that all three elements serve as a reminder for consistency through family and community.
Many of us are still so lost...asking where all these values have gone while failing to realize they exist all around us. We "...merely have to change our point of view slightly..." and unprecedented grace can be found in your backyard as opposed to a completely different continent.