So I broke my nose
in high school,
and I didn't get it
fixed,
so that meant
that the air
through my nose
only went
to the left side
of my head,
and that meant
that the chi energized
my left brain,
but my right brain
was completely unenergized,
so in my travels
of learning,
I found out about
a brain balancer
which is
to put my index fingers
of both my hands
gently
right in front of
my two earlobes
and then
meditate,
breathing through
the mouth,
instead of the nose,
and I push,
gently,
on the exhale,
and I have
a great mantra
which I sing inside
as a little song,
and the first time
that I tried it,
the whole brain
opened up,
and I felt
much better.

Silken stone
dewed damp
tipping to topple
over outcropping-

balanced buttress
feigning flightlessness
until, unexpected, uphill
avalanche advances
rushing, racing
poised to push-

rock rolls
sailing slow
slow
slow
slow-

explosion echoes
crisscross canyon.
Sheep stop,
listen long,
lingering

Freezing causes wheezing,
Leaving leaf spores breeding down my trachea,
Allergens spin n turn sharply attacking the tools that physicalise my life with its ins and outs
Oh 2 see oh 2 breathe oh 2 feel free from the obstructions that structure my schedule to be dormant
Walk up the stairs hold on to the side "are you ok?" No Annie in sight,
Just I, end
is nigh
I roll my knuckles and pinch my palms
Shouldve cut my nails, shot shoots up my arms.
I knock 3 times on the bannister,
I Commit to it being my balancer
Eyes leaking, chest croaking
tight feeling  like I'm choking
Gasping hurts but needed to soothe the need of a response

"I'm fine, just a bit chesty"

Don't ask any more or i can get tetchy

Lecture me on meds im taking
if my rooms tidy or am i forsaking,
still smoking? buffing and *******  that sweet foam **** till it turns hard and golden tarred like caramel muck.  
Just my luck that the something that makes me feel at ease can send me bending to my knees
not for pleas
But to construct a wheeze
Leaving me
Starting every sentence with please,
help me.
Don't even know what im pleading to
Or Who is listening to the self harmer
With a clear thought that I deserve to be preserved and cured of this karma
Inherited from my grandfather which I didn't know until I was told to ask my mother.

Ask ma

She knows about your Asthma.

She's a self destructor
well known for being a self wrecker
A self pecker
leaving holes to be filled by watless ***** carriers
Frieghts of frightening memories
Sure one day shed love to tell me.
But she destructured herself
And left me for others to construct by themselves.

Destructing the self: is the art of not giving a **** but really not giving a **** to the point that there's no fcuks to give and giving a **** means you're affected by fcuks who dont give a **** or willing to give you an iota of optimism
A helping hand
A hope full of hopeful hopes
Hopping fluently between the structure of the destructed self
Which makes me feel woozy

As i struggle hard to say no to this tobacco
especially when it's been weeks
And the feeling of ease is punishing me for a past ive not seen but i realise in that moment we have much in common

Self destruction is our common denominator
Our choice is the same and is made the same
over and over again
Its still the same
results never change
And still leave us with this taint
That we are responsible for cleansing

So what more do i need to ask ma for?
She's giving me answers by her flaws. That's her gift to me,
her way of setting me free
well here's hoping she breathes easy.

Maiden and Observer

As speculated,
The observer and the scientist
See an enigmatic entrance.

The arrival of the specimen:
He shows haste,
His wrist flickers:
Punctuality.
He mouthes questions of career:
Orderliness.
His vocal appetite silent:
Surrender.
He declares instruction:
Superiority.
He brightens athleticism.
Focus.

The smile appears through
in the unknownest places,
Within restaurant doors,
Through the soundwaves.
Through ideations:
Competitive movement.

Inertia and stagnation is of disinterest.
Wordly reflection produces empty reciprocration.
Can it be a metaphor for the observer,
Can the specimen by the symbol?
Both reflected from one another.

There is the one,
and then, the other.
The challenge is:
Exhibiting both states
Simultaenously.
This is the task of the maiden.
The balancer of scales.

The scientist seeks to understand,
There is evidence of somes sort
A hidden bliss a smile inside,
a moment of analysis.
Notions brought on by previous experiments.
Past failures predict present outcome,
Recent knowledge or estimation?
Emotion links to reason,
Reason negotiates but stands firm,
The scientist is fatigued, his hand lowers.
Body language is lazily interpreted by curious Observer,
Studying this new behaviour.

The professor places his spectacles on,
He sees no other path to take,
He concludes and hypothesises,
This specimen can be learnt from
No more.

Specimen's silence allows flowing thoughts to pervade the mind of the observer and the scientist.
Silence given to the cynicism of life,
the broadened mind
perceived as narrow.
The observer is observed.
Now conciousness changes in the realm of the user experiencing himself.
Self perception, self defense,
Guard is raised,
Gates are closed.
Only water flows through,
Other matter obstructed.

Maiden, Observer, Scientist, Specimen.

From Popularity…
              (comes danger)

From popularity comes hazard,
Risk of peril,
Boy or girl at danger’s call.
From anonymity comes shelter:
No one knowing you at all.

Every country loves its tourists -
Bridges, tunnels… easy access;
Weapons, drugs,
Lawbreakers, thugs:
In short, new foes;
New secret foes that no one knows.
From popularity come woes.

Self-imposed expansion low.
Moderation is the answer,
Modesty the balancer
Of friendliness
And isolation.

From Popularity 4.17.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II; Definitely Didactic;
Arlene Corwin

i want to melt away
fall through this chair
porous and weightless
obsequious to time
and the disappearing
act it attempts every
second plowing through
space as a false fourth
dimension like fabric
is not artificial

i want to submit to the
super massive black
hole in the middle of
these lonely neighbor-
hoods wanting everything
but always empty
hungrier as it consumes
the almighty balancer
juggling light and dark
existence and absence
chainsaws and flaming
torches while on a uni-
cycle for the amusement
of what

i want to decay to have
a half life scientists will
use to date blank stares
and suburban angst
i decay faster than time
always approaching zero
asymptotic and wistful
for a perpetual motion
set to stare at the yellow
lit rain for eternity
submerged in aesthetic
my toes begin to fall asleep

The last act of the balancer,
to dance across the rooftops bare
holding hands with Maigret,
dare we look?

Skyscrapers may scrape away, but I see
sunlight every day
hear every word they say,
as cold as concrete on pillows lay.

The last act does not detract from
the thousand and one acts
which came before
au contraire,
I even saw Simenon there,
dancing
with Maigret.

„Yours  truly“
Finished page, just sign the letter with your name.
Be careful, since you only have that one shot at this game.
No hurries
Once the whitey paper ***** in all the ink,
Lean back and pour yourself a glass of the very special drink.
No wine and no beer conceals the bottle
No headache nor vertigo next day
The memories will no longer hunt you down
Just take the road and let be shown the way.

There is too much to question
and too much aggression
I have a confession
it’s my indiscretion
Breath of a cancer
Touch of elegant dancer
Ego enhancer
But never an answer

Flashback
into the days when everything was black and white
when simply enough you could tell what’s wrong and what is right
Oh wait
that must have been another section of the book
because this chapter is what they unmercifully took
Browsing the shelves inside the library
Hoping to find the missing parts
The bookcases stare at you adversary
Sometimes you just don’t get the perfect cards

There was too much to question
and only aggression
through my confession
gone’s indiscretion
away with the cancer
exhausted’s the dancer
being the balancer
while seeking the answer

Too often
washing off everyone’s melancholy stink
wishing they would just one day ****** off and got a shrink
One’s mind
absorbs the good from people but the bad as well
on the outside, though, it makes sure that no one can ever tell
The book of the dead is not a fairy tale
And the book of life isn’t yet for rent
All there is left is to come up with a plan
On how to stand up when the body’s bent

Now this is the answer
this is the balancer
rise again will the dancer
whilst free of the cancer
no more indiscretion
no need for confession
void of aggression
rid of oppression at last.

Sonnet.


Un oiseau solitaire aux bizarres couleurs
Est venu se poser sur une enfant ; mais elle,
Arrachant son plumage où le prisme étincelle,
De toute sa parure elle fait des douleurs ;

Et le duvet moelleux, plein d'intimes chaleurs,
Épars, flotte au doux vent d'une bouche cruelle.
Or l'oiseau, c'est mon cœur ; l'enfant coupable est celle,
Celle dont je ne puis dire le nom sans pleurs.

Ce jeu l'amuse, et moi j'en meurs, et j'ai la peine
De voir dans le ciel vide errer sous son haleine
La beauté de mon cœur pour le plaisir du sien !

Elle aime à balancer mes rêves sur sa tête
Par un souffle et je suis ce qu'on nomme un poète.
Que ce souffle leur manque et je ne suis plus rien.

Sonnet.


La blanche Vérité dort au fond d'un grand puits.
Plus d'un fuit cet abîme ou n'y prend jamais garde ;
Moi, par un sombre amour, tout seul je m'y hasarde,
J'y descends à travers la plus noire des nuits.

Et j'entraîne le câble aussi **** que je puis.
Or, je l'ai déroulé jusqu'au bout : je regarde,
Et, les bras étendus, la prunelle hagarde,
J'oscille sans rien voir ni rencontrer d'appuis.

Elle est là cependant, je l'entends qui respire ;
Mais, pendule éternel que sa puissance attire,
Je passe et je repasse et tâte l'ombre en vain.

Ne pourrai-je allonger cette corde flottante,
Ni remonter au jour dont la gaîté me tente ?
Et dois-je dans l'horreur me balancer sans fin ?