Holiday: a man backstrokes
oh so gently in the hotel pool.
It’s breakfast time. Bean juice
coagulates on my plate.

I watch the man’s languid, enchanting
backstroke and, for some reason,
it inflates my heart with sentimental joy.
This semi-corpulent middle-aged man,
is, right now,
The Most Beautiful Thing On Earth:

His arcing limbs do not slap or thrash,
but plop into the drink like skipping stones.
He is a babbling brook. A water feature.
The splish-splosh trickle-truckle of a spa waiting room.

And what’s more, this forty-something baldy
gliding through the water
fills me with love for all humanity,
because he seems blithely rapt
in absolute peace
(despite the room rates at this place).

But then, I realise, all of this might be
free association of the mind
linking this moment to a scene in
the Oscar winning motion picture:
Forrest Gump;
when a legless Lieutenant Dan
makes peace with God (for taking his legs),
and backstrokes with the same carefree beauty
into a pink and orange sunrise

(funny how the mind does that).

And suddenly the bubble of beauty is burst.
The portly swimmer becomes just that
(FYI: legs intact),
and my wife returns from the buffet
with a plate of vibrant fruit segments; Cheshire melon
and the greenest kiwi I’ve ever seen.
Lo! Only now have I tasted true kiwi.
And I remember: I’m on honeymoon!
And my wife, in this moment, and forever more,
shall be the only human to be known as:
The Most Beautiful Thing On Earth.

Similar to the way Forrest felt about Jenny,
in the Oscar winning motion picture:
Forrest Gump.

This girl man.. Something amazing..

Her beauty was mind boggling..
A smile that could grasp the attention of every man or woman in the room..

Whether it was envy from woman or the lustful temptation from men, she always had eyes on her..

She had gazing eyes that struct you, making you fall in love at sight.. Trapping you in an everlasting heart throb..

A body of a goddess.. Luscious cocoa butter skin with thick voluptuous thighs..  The true meaning of Mona Lisa ..

As we grew closer to each other, I begin to notice something different about this woman..  Although she was astounding on the outside....  she damaged on the inside...

A beautiful sculpture across the room.. But you dont notice until you get too close that she is damaged..

The party girl.. Taking shots back to back like she was doing backstrokes.. Careless, no ambition.. Living life on the edge..

She says "I must advise you, I am stamped with an invisible warning.. Will not commit.. Despite my best efforts, I'm beginning to feel some small cracks in my faux finish."

Unattached, free as a bird.. Doesn't depend on nobody, & no one depends on her..she doesn't have peace of mind.

She was Untamed beauty..

Footsteps through some Atlantic sea foam
Backstrokes beyond the loudness of your megaphone
Saline eyes, salty borrowed lens
So cloudless above, appearing to me as some other days cosmic swim
Today, now, I'm in my water, of our cosmic body.

"Oh
It's mine;
The water.
It's yours too; if you want it to be."

Searching barefoot in my forest of flaking birch
Soles in touch with my detritus, dying seasons Earth
My ears awaken my reptilian mind
So alive, in tune with Gaia's frequency
Today, now, I'm in my land, of our cosmic body.

"Oh
It's mine;
The forest.
It's yours too; if you want it to be."

Draped in cloth with rubbered feet
Footsteps disappear under the noisy city
Puddles of an unknown origin
Sit for days, evaporate from tall reflective glass
Today, now, I do not see my land within this cosmic body.

"Oh
This is yours;
This concrete jungle.
You can keep it. I'll never want this for my own."

There's a slab of cracked concrete
Outside a doughnut shop on the corner where I stand
Something green has emerged from the break
And I know that she will win.
Eventually, she will truly win.

"Oh
This is not yours; Nothing here is.
I allowed your life, and I provide for all;
But I will take your life when I'm ready.
Regardless how you choose to have it."

I watched them go swimming one day.
They were ok at best, but they kept trying.
Backstrokes and breaststrokes, repeat and more.
I watch from the sidelines as they laugh and cry and share their happiness.
I can hear them shouting, but I can't make it out.
It sounds like a cry for help.

But it's funny, I'm the one who's drowning.
They're the ones standing three feet away shouting "Learn how to swim".

you and me, we are
backstrokes in the never-ending river
splashing and laughing as it carries us along.
We are on fire, we are sparkling diamonds in God's eyes
we are pleasure, rapture, pain and desire,
shining brighter than the stars overhead at night
here now in the raindrops' glisten, stop and listen
the soft sound of water paws leaping to the ground,
we are a flicker, we are a fancy, we are a fleeting
song carried along by shameless tongues and now
your mouth against mine
is the closest I've come to tasting the divine
so all I have to say is: lover, when we die
may it be just as poetic as this fraction of pulsating life.

"High hopes... I guess"
she mumbled whilst licking the jay to seal it,
not breaking eye contact for a second.
Truth is, I felt myself doing backstrokes in the ambiguity of her eye contact because I had no idea whether or not she was talking about us, or the 420.

Remember going to
the pool and your hair
all damp and the smell
of the water?
Some things still unclear
cos the swimming teacher
made me do backstrokes
Don't like that
I'm perfectly fine
a butterfly in waves

I was told everyone is two people to each of us.
Who we know them to be in our heads
and who they are.

Does it hold true when its to deep to tread?
When we seek othersi n hte recesses of their hearts
and not just in comfort.

Backstrokes are appealing when we cannot see fathoms.
What does the sky tell us of reefs and wrecks.
Practice breathing.

Beneath the waves light only travels so far.
That which is strange lurks in darker seas.
Bring a light.

Like streets you've traversed too often to need maps
we swim at ease in waters which only hold the known and no more.
Make charts.

We told myths and made statues of conquistadores.
Named places which held other names with abandon.
Do not fear exploration.

How many seas have you KNOWN if you only visit beaches.
Take deep breathes. Plan precautions. Temper forgiving and learning.
Plunge into depths.

bleeding from somewhere,
cheers to routines and the walls
I beat my head against though.
I only put my fists into sky now.
why drown when backstrokes
look like Pablo or Baudelaire
or gospel whispered in your ear
while all the awful flares out
like an ancient star?
ive taken hearts out off of sleeves
too many times in this life.
who is really alive anymore?
too many questions,
plenty war to be desensitized to;
my minutes die trying to bloom
infinite.
weaponsize truth.
linchpins pulled.
ascension is as cruel as children
are to other children.

it's **** and you know it
better than I do.

ive been stuck serving verses
to the undeserving and it irks me
to even think of letting it happen further.
this is nurturing a burgeoning
fervour for burning certainty
down to the ******* dirt the worms eat, sleep, and die in.
curtains swing on your "why me"
why me,
why me,
why me,
why, why, why, why?
why this?
why that?
why sink,
why swim,
wine glass,
high G.
please.
self is a hell,
it helps if you let it break,
waves;
waving on the iller side
of heaven's gate.
pilfer life out of what's left
of the seven days you've yet to waste.
thanks.
thankfully you'll think of me.
don't.
please.