"disentangled" poems
I
You came to me in the robes of Cyclamen
But how can I bring you a bouquet of red chrysanthemums?
When I have not found any white chrysanthemums in the bouquet of your heart?
Do not pluck the petals of my pure daisies with your eyes closed, lest you would be fooled by your wild guesses.
Because, you do not need to set your foot on twelve daisies before you can see the dawn of your spring
I will give you neither white nor red daisies after the last swallow of summer has flown away from your alcove, lest your dreams of them in autumn leave you heartbroken in winter.
In my wanderlust quest for Ivy
I did not find you in the bloom of Orange Blossom or in Lemon Blossom
But I found you entangled in the paphiopedilum orchids of Phaphos with a garland of Peach Blossom dangling from your ringed neck
Like a rose entangled in your own thorns
Then I disentangled you before I led you to the lyceum of my Muses
They welcomed you with the petals of Apple Blossom cast at your bleeding feet. They wiped your tears away with the golden petals of yellow roses and bathed you in the pool of the Coral Rose.
They covered you with the Peach Rose and led you into the bed of my Rose of Persia before I came to you with my bouquet of the white Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley
II
My heart is a bouquet of red roses
Red roses in a vase of Michaelmas daisies
As flowers bloom in the oasis in the desert
Red roses will blossom in my heart
So, here I am my dearest dove
I have come to your nest to rest in your *****
I have come to you my sweetest love
Where the roses in my heart will blossom.
For my heart will no longer pine
Nor will my enchanted spirit whine
For as long as you are mine
You will forever be my Valentine.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
*Free your soul
From the sinister trappings
Of the worldly pleasures
Once you seek within
Soul wakes up to your call
Protected by the aura
Of the purity of the universe
Disentangled from greed
Free from all illusions
Free your soul
Realize the eternal potential*
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
Colleagues surrounded me;
When sweet success came.
Chaos and congratulations;
Each lip uttered my name.
Many different expressions;
And many dissimilar words.
Like mass of thread entangled.
At once I saw, at once I heard.
At night closed my eyes.
Became hand my head.
Sorted words and expressions;
And disentangled the thread.
Now I am well informed;
And now very well I know.
I can easily differentiate;
My friend from my foe.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
I fear too much of life
Has been spent living in our
Mismatched silverware drawer.
While knives are always fine,
Never noticing much
What they might cut
Because they haven't sharp eyes;
So accustomed to close quarters,
They just lay there, as
Blind soldiers in wait of orders.
But I'm wary when they
Come out to speak,
Seeking blood, too often it seems.
Nicer when it's just
Butter must be spread
To warm toast instead.
Forks carry their own dangers.
In time, tines disentangled
From secret stainless dustups
That go on in the tray
While attention's drawn away
Can be wielded like daggers,
Impaling olives - or fingers -
That happen to fall in the way.
So painful, though rarely fatal
For those with shots up to date.
It's the others need worrying over;
Sad spoons that never nestle
As they did when they were new.
Uncomfortable now with one another,
Like wishes kissing cold lips,
Smooth hips never swaying to music
As they must have done once before,
Arranged in deranged patterns
In plastic compartments.
I'd rather take them all out,
Line them along the kitchen floor
For lessons in ballet or the samba.
I might learn to dance, again, too.
Sometimes, I wish we could eat with
The still-perfect gold set
We save for those who don't live here;
Drink fine wine every day from those
Dusty gilded glasses
Stocked in the corner cabinet.
It might feel more real then,
If they eventually get here...
We'd be prince and princess
Everyday, then, wouldn't we?
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 5:21 PM UTC
*Aimless wander
In the unfathomed depths
I drove into the walls of truth
And
Disentangled my mind
From the imprudent rationalisation
Of the subjective.*
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Crinkled and knotted,
Your mind pushes far beyond the last
Fluid dimension of thought.
Words and images
****** out, crossed out, and beaten.
Their meaning disentangled
From the syllables they’re bound to.
Stretched,
Pulled,
Prodded,
Poked,
Rolled,
And torn open.
Mile by mile, down a endless road,
Making no explicable progress.
Broken and battered,
Words, attempting equilibrium,
Burn off energy enough to care.
The unthinkable dread of empty canvas
Impedes on the black and white tile
That clangs too loudly
For reason to be heard.
Inspiration becomes an
Agonizing, ever-twisting labyrinth.
The climactic moment drawn out too far,
Centuries too far,
Tortures and torments you,
Tears you to pieces
Until, at last, you
Are indistinguishable from
The pain you’ve offered,
The discomfort you’ve endured,
The itch you’ve tolerated.
And the balance finally restores itself.
Rights you just at the point of ultimate collision,
Lets you steal a breath,
Before the next thought starts to pull.
Jan 29, 2010
Jan 29, 2010 at 12:57 PM UTC
Tender
As the flow of water across a light reed
Flowing, gentle as the soft kiss of sunshine over the morning dew
Like the fireflies lightly glowing
Through the night of passionate embraces
Every dance, every smile, every secret meeting
The waves crashing around us, the sunset glow on your face
A slow dance of love in the rain
Sparkling eyes and water lightly disentangled from your lashes
The distance and the soft voice, like music
Stirring deep within, calm, a melody
Every night, the closeness through the distance
Your laughter, in the archway of dreams glowing
Alight in my universe, wild goddess with the quiet smile
Yet mad, a force invisible, powerful
A gale of passion and emotion
Raging, pulling together, night through night
Alight. My Eos, sweet dawn, shy as a deer
Sweet as the morning dew
Curtains of dreams that I walk through
Brushing my eyes lightly,
Making them water by their sheer beauty
The elegance of emotion, of caring
Of silence, and of sharing
The hour of departure
A moment of distance and
I return but the river has flown
The winds have gone
To a distant land
Where a melody lingers
Quiet
Hush child
You cannot cry
You’re no child
This is how it must be
It was (\not\) your fault
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
it's not so hard to
ask anymore, these questions
intractable questions about
what we have lost and
where it has gone
and it worries me
maybe we have become
accustomed to its absence
I don't miss the suffering
and I don't miss
the uncertainty I don't
miss the clouds, whatever they portended
or any of the times that we pretended
that our love had limits.
but I do miss well-defended
winters, snowed in, knowing
inconsolable sadness, complicated
sadness, and the ease
with which you disentangled it
Look at this, you whispered;
It's like a cat's cradle.
You moved your fingers
and it was gone.
So we are left asking questions without
a voice to offer solutions
so we are asking questions and
they seem solutionless.
I don't miss
clandestine afternoons, and hiding
from confrontation, but mostly
from each other
and I don't miss
long explanations, and looking at wild
mountains, wondering how
they could be climbed,
and duplicity, and things that we resigned
never to mention, and turned from, blind.
but I do miss
sleeping, two to a narrow bed
confined, knowing infinite windows to
your own wonders, and the canyons
so dark, concealing cat's cradles
a kiss and
a question away:
repeating hopes that we could not abandon
but there were some too hard
for you, too hard for me
You moved your fingers, but
this one never disappeared
and while I pray for someone
who can solve it
I'll hide it away again:
An artifact, a tangled souvenir -
to remind me of the things you couldn't fix
to wonder why you didn't persevere -
a question about what I have lost and
where it has gone.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
i guess i just hoped i could wake up
like i always do, only alive
throw the bedcovers from my
aching, beating body
leave the curtains open
because i don't feel like hiding
keep my head up, keep the air flowing
out of breath, but in sync
and through pain or whatever comes my way
feel it all, feel everything
but no
i woke up like i always do, grey
slowly disentangled myself
from the crumpled blue sheets
left the curtains closed
because the pointing fingers are everywhere
kept my head down, kept the air controlled
through my lungs, out of time
and through pain or whatever came my way
i felt nothing
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
We always make sure to hold each other.
We always cry to be wrapped in
each other,
heated embraces,
breathless kisses;
trailing bodies and entwining limbs.
I pen this wrapped in your abandoned
bed sheets,
the lingering smell of you staining my skin.
I sprawl over where you laid,
hoping to take in as much as I can of you.
I pen this while we’re disentangled,
to let you know something.
Please don’t loosen yourself from me.
Please, I worry when I wake
in your bed to find you were never
once there; you were never once taking me in your arms.
I pen this because I’ve realised what
makes it so painful,
to imagine you lost from me;
a distant, faded smudge in a photo album.
You’re a biochemical addiction,
a drug I can’t seem to avoid, I can’t seem
to stop taking my daily shot.
A sheer addiction rooting me down to my
bare bones.
I pen this because what we are is purely
selfish.
Relationships are purely narcissistic.
Lost in reflections of each other,
I want to love you as much as I can
while I want you
to love me as much as I can only try to love myself.
I pen this to open up the box of secrets that
sleeps between us.
To open up the lies we paint on each other’s skin,
when we lie in bed and dream across each other.
We bury our hearts in the beautiful rubble of
romance, ecstasy, heated passion and blissful reunions
of bodies and loves.
But really we cover our insecurities.
We believe we are worthy only when we know
we can be desired by another.
We believe in love, only when we are the object of attention,
not in our own eyes, but reflected in yours.
I pen this because we are each other’s poetry.
The sketches I get to make of you,
the colours you can pull out of me and place
on your canvas.
I pen this,
because it’s so impossible to let you go.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
*Lines stretched from end to end
Tied affinities since time began
We are a queer bunch, after all
One and the same
Through our own making, we disentangled
The threads bringing us together
Circumstances walled us from our humanness
Hardening our fears of embracing
The otherness of others,
The otherness in others
When truly stripped from
All these trivialities and caprices,
We go back to the same cloth*
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
I’ve searched so long for truth
Yet you can never be quite sure
Even a sign out of chance
At anytime could occur
Once I fell in love
But was that actually true
Hate could be so real
I’d tell you if I knew
Sometimes I feel so trapped
So caught in this thing called time
Other times I can’t seem to keep up
I guess I’ll never unwind
Still with destiny I’ve met
Both my goals and regrets
But the end is nowhere in sight
Nor near, no not yet
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
I am a grayed rose in a black and white world; afloat on a pond of serenity and solitude.
My petals, drifting aimlessly about the cold; a part of me stays everywhere I lurk.
My leaves; a reminder of what raised me up, I keep close to my parts.
My thorns, disentangled from my soul; I let flow along the stream of the old.
My roots, my source of power; I can no longer hold on to.
But withal the blows of change and time,
I shall be firmer than oak,
And bear on blooming and burst forth
Colors and beauty and the scent of love
Out in the open, out in the wild;
Out in the earth of torment and beguiling eyes,
And shan't wither under any weather.
I am a grayed rose in a black and white world;
Slowly reviving all the life that I lost.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
It no longer hurts to think
about you - about our lives
becoming disentangled
I used to think you were
"The One," with whom I would
grow old, start a family
I didn't know myself, then -
didn't know how I react
to pain, to hardship
I had suffered before, more
than some see in their whole
lives, and yet
less than others see in a
minute of tear-stricken grief
or in their last moments
I had suffered before, yes
but I never knew how I
handled it, never saw
how I pushed people away,
insisting it was this or
that, but never me
Now I see myself, not perfectly
but well enough to know
why we ended that way
It no longer hurts to think
about you, but sometimes I
wonder what you're doing
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
**I
February
Einbahnstraße in a
night of black arrowheads/jazz, obliteration perfume/
the twinkle of your
eyes which are engulfed
by youthful nymphs
Fur-lined sable coat
& I
in a jean jacket, hair styled back/
the perspiring windows of Paul Gustavus
open to reveal alizarin (death of day)
velvet curtains
(an appetite for moonlight &
mirrors) the reverberation
echochamber settles over us infused
with alcohol and tea leaves
Basement seclusion,
Deutsch in every direction
Woodstove heat/harsh truths exist in
a Blue Rose of cackling ash, left
disentangled ... duskdancer and copperhue-rooftop Saharas
billowing madly
conversation as a
room full of isolation, lip -
eye, breath -
hairline/drifting to attic enticement,
bedsheets ruffling like
a winged dove
(insertion/devotion)
I am a North American phantom speaking through written paragraphs
& on my second drink a voice
persuasively licks my thigh/come up from the uneven ground
*"feed the moon
relinquish fear
-blindness & burden, parish your
anticipation for fire"*
II
In my restlessness later on, I realize
all I can do is keep my head
high, mimic hope, mimic strength knowing we are
but one brief collision of beautiful
time purposed to split off again
towards a chaos larger than
ourselves.
Remembering The Woman in The Dunes..
"There was a drooling wolf...there was the sun. And, somewhere, he knew not where...there must also be a storm center and lines of discontinuity"
our own repitition of love & labor, warding off the deathhand which always comes back around
... How far do we have to go for lasting tenderness?
III
March
Australian sand/I erase my flesh
in Summer fruit/the air is thick,
I have stopped wearing leather
With iron humility
I task myself to
tillling a steeple into
a breaking cloudbeam
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
Why was I made to exist? To merely experience life through sorrowful eyes.
I drown so deep, I question all my feelings and try to make excuses as to why I feel a certain way.
Certain ways I don’t even understand.
If I was made to bring a revolution and change perception, then why should I **** myself just by doing so?
So empty and hollow, the wall has enclosed.
If I was born to be misunderstood, why is it so easy for me to understand and accept everyone else, even those who discredit me.
The voices in my twisted mind. Who are they? Are they real? Is it my intuition? Or is it intuition turned into nerve aching anxiety.
Writhing inside of me, eating every part of my disillusioned sanity.
If I seize to exist to help those who put me down and call me crazy, then why is it worth it?
If I could hang myself right now tight around the neck where I might snap my spine... why would it matter?
I’ve accepted being alone, being lonely is now contentment. Peace.
Drained by others negativity, pulling me down like strings by their problems.
If I was meant to show my true form, why is it that I live in different facades.
Questioning who I am every single ****** day.
I hear people constantly talk about me, in my mind.
Is it intuition? Or mere delusion.
I’m dead. Empty. My purpose in life is to physically die so I can finally go back to where I came from. Other dimensions where I truly belong.
Disentanglement, I lose myself in fear.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 3:05 PM UTC
I extricated myself
From man's creation,
Disentangled myself
From the machines
And wires,
Walked
Off the concrete
Disrobing and discarding
The artificial attire,
Then
Stepped
Bare feet
Onto the grass
And,
Made my way
Back home.
(With a smile on my face.)
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
I held your hand as you disentangled from her
you did not move closer to me
I assuaged your worst fears
you fueled mine
I was fully present and attentive
you took calls that came in . . . and didn’t call back
I asked questions
you answered different ones
I made you a playlist
you never acknowledged
I made plans and reservations
you did not show
I gave you the benefit of every doubt
you did not reassure me
I made myself vulnerable
you remained ensconced
I created space in my life
you did not explore
I dared to dream about us
you dreamed about . . . I don’t know
I gave you my body
you reached for your phone
I gave you my heart
you did not reciprocate
I get it now
you are just not that into me
Only wish I knew sooner.
Goodbye.
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 10:58 AM UTC
i know you think
flaws do not apply to you
when you disentangled our strings
and pretended i was a stranger
but it's the other way round
for you are the stranger i barely recognise
resembling little of what i know,
of what i used to see.
thanks for reminding me
how messed up i am.
but at least i'm not a fake
and warp myself for other's sake.
see, i'd rather be myself and alone
than wear a mask and have millions.
i just thought
you were better
than that.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 10:33 AM UTC
I have a desire to be free in ways that would destroy me, in ways that aren't accepted in this world. I have a need to be free in ways that don't even exist, from things that are such parts of my continued existence as a being that to get what I need would be to cease. I am a lover who has found nothing to take the love I have. I cannot stand to be near anyone, but I crave closeness in such a desperate, painful way that it controls me. I am a logical, orderly, sound, carefully crafted mind, trapped inside the chaos of a soul that I cannot be sure was ever made to withstand the kind of feelings it itself produces constantly. Without the handicap of my humanity, I would be free, disentangled from this web of useless little things I care about. The one that trusses up my legs and trips me and no matter how I try to find the pattern in it, reason has no power against this trap. Power has no power against this snare. I can solve anything, escape anything, survive anything, disassemble anything. But I can't solve myself. And I feel like a wasted opportunity, a consciousness that maybe COULD actually do something meaningful, tragically held back by the hitchhiker of a soul that has come along for the ride to slash the tires. I want to be free of impossible things. But I am an impossible thing, and every morning I wake up and the little part of me that knows things whispers, "You will never be free." What a way to start the day.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
There’s no doubt in my mind
at least not on display
but who doesn’t have some
photographs and trinkets
sealed in a shoe box
with packing tape.
The odd
strand of blonde hair stuck
to a paper plane, disentangled
bracelet braids, a heartfelt
note used for a page mark,
a postcard of a mountain path
fading into darkness.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
On the thread of thought
one encounters many knots.
How to undo a knot?
You take perspectives,
look from left, from right,
above, below.
You think and think and think,
fiddle, fiddle, fiddle.
Yet no answer comes to mind.
The next step; you ask a friend:
This knot I have, what is the answer?
They think and think and think,
might even give an answer.
Does the knot get disentangled?
For the greatest knots this does not work,
no matter how many answers you will gather,
the knot remains.
But then there might come along a man,
who will give you peace of mind.
A sage who thought and thought and thought
for years and years and years,
and they will say:
This is a knot indeed.
And thus you look at your thread of thought again,
the knot’s still there.
But you feel the thread
and it feels smooth.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Aimless wander
In the unfathomed depths
I drove into the walls of truth
Disentangled my mind
From the imprudent rationalisation
Of the subjective.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
sometimes i let it go
i'm disentangled
i listen to the wind
i mourn the things i haven't lost yet
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC