#savagery
Obviously
Both comedy and tragedy
Feed on
And are fed by reality
With a savagery
So if you play nice
You might find the happy in strife
Both can
Take you by the hand
And lead you to the promise land
Your best guess of an afterlife
Slice the tension with a knife
To get the upper hand
Don't bite the hand
Try to
Stick to
The grand plan
But prepare to fall when you take your stand
Humble humility will get you knocked off the grandstand
Then where will you stand?
Honestly,
It all feels like quicksand
No buts, just and
I too don't understand
©2024
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 5:56 PM UTC
I'm not the only me I see when I see me looking back at me
Bewildered by the impossibility of a blind visionary with the foresight to look past me to find me
I got caught staring so intently I lost sight of the true me completely
You see such savagery and think it must have been nurtured from infancy
While true, I had it in check, hidden away in the captivity of a long forgotten memory
But it still remembered me, waited patiently, predicting my return with a whimsical accuracy
It heard me frantically trying to find the glass to break in case of emergency
Not to set it free but to once again embrace what was scary, what might be the reality of the actual me
Instantly I handed over the key, didn't even keep a copy for me
Knowing exactly what I was doing and what it'd do to me mentally
It was always going to happen this way eventually
Finding solace in it's monotony, no more uncertainty
Both wake up and go to bed with the same angry energy
Done with the pleasantry and all the pageantry projected outwardly to seem more neighborly
Just so the world could be more comfortable with me when I pass through their snooty, gated community
While it pays no mind to what's being done to my psyche
This self destructive entity wasn't only the part of my reality I was told to bury
It is the entirety of my history, sad and happy, comedy and tragedy
I was it and it was me, the merger went so smoothly I believed it was absolutely meant to be, probably
Fighting myself got messy and wasn't necessarily a necessity
In the end there was no surprise who's hand was raised in victory
I already knew the part of me that held superiority but everyone else said it'd turn out differently
Like they got some kind of decoder key
Of course it didn't and they don't, thankfully I was welcomed back too once again become my own worst enemy
It ain't good company but I personally accept that personality and it's starting to warm up to me finally
It's been a strange journey, be thankful I didn't ask you to join me
©2023
Nov 1, 2023
Nov 1, 2023 at 12:22 AM UTC
Who said love would be easy?
Who said life would be a smooth ride?
Who said you'd never have to worry?
Who said it would never be painful inside?
Look at that wretched state of you
The flaws you don't seem to accept
The pain you've kept hidden under the blankets
The mistakes you never seem to forget
You think it'll be better when the sun rises tomorrow?
You think you'll eventually laugh it all off someday?
You think you'll never have to get out of your self-made misery?
You think, "maybe not today"?
We're all just trying to get by
And there you go, torturing yourself with cruelty
You wouldn't even want to impose upon your worst enemy
And yet
You blind yourself with blatant stupidity
Of all "I don't deserve"s and "I'll never be happy"s
Of saying "life has no meaning" without realizing
You could've just made meaning all along
All of that have kept you from seeing
How loved you were
How absolutely treasured you are
By those who stayed
And those you could make meaning with,
If you just wanted to
Still
You count the ones who left
The ones who caused you so much pain
The voices that haunt the deep recesses of your brain
Like they're the ones that matter the most
Aren't you a ******* laughable creature? You.
Someone who has so much love wasted inside her,
Thrown into a compost pit of potential joy she never realized
Because she was too caught up in writing the saddest story humanity has ever written.
Boo-hoo. The end. Sad ever after.
Welcome to life, honey
It's never going to be easy
It's never going to be a smooth ride
And it's one you only have a chance of taking once
So at the very least,
pick yourself once more,
and cherish the journey.
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 2:02 AM UTC
One kiss could send me straight to ruin
One sinful touch my soul to hell
But just to have you for a night
My soul would cry out "It is well"
To taste the sweetness of your lips
To have my flesh be a feast for you to dine
I'd gladly face those burning embers
Just to say you once were mine
Let marks on my skin tell the story
Of a night of savagery and bliss
Yes I would give up crown and glory
Just to have one taste of you like this
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 7:02 PM UTC
*Maybe all Humanity's lost
and savagery's our true nature*
**and we're at war simply
because we aren't born for peace.**
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
After all, poetry is a savage calling.
-Edel Garcellano
Let poetry be an interstice.
Say, an intervention to the gap of loneliness. Depressive. Let bitter medicines dissolve or, madness will make its ultimate call. Convulsive patterns of mental spasms. Schizophrenic impulse hitting the nerves.
What is known to be rational flees. Enough to learn from the burning of its wings and Youth.
Say, pulling a magic trick under the hat. You know you are being fooled but why enjoy such spectacle or, better enjoy than masking the truth.
Say, a glimpse through an interstice—from Whitman’s poetry.
An intervention to the rashness of day. An intercept to the chaos of the soul. A reminder that we are not assemblages forever desiring.
A poetry fumbling to the course, enough to welcome the rain of sad realizations.
“The task is heroic. Poetry is a minor matter” (E. Garcellano) – an intervention/interstice, the negotiator to the ultimate task of poetry.
We are savage gods. We feed on the detritus of truth, those are, lies.
Consider this poetry as an epitaph. To the disremembered victims of El Sidro. We dealt the cards of fate. We intervened to live. We pierced our stones to their hearts so cold.
Darwin’s prophesy always reminds us that in every epoch there are some interventions we cannot avoid. After all, we are his favorite animal.
We are gods feeding on loneliness. We are agnostic souls entangled in caves of shadows.
Say, are we forever trapped in the compulsive dimensions of ourselves? In love, for example.
To answer this question is the task of poetry.
Let poetry be an interstice.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC