"eleutheromania" poems
Condensation left, the window blind
smudging with a bare hand
the panes allow sight, to
the restlessness of the trees
and the blustering leaves
rain forming puddles
Seeing him wave, from across
the street with, board in hand
smiling upwards, glancing
the butterflies kick and twist
"Meadow, Meadow.."
"Shush, I know, he's outside!"
Her little sister was always
part of, the games too
she knew their ma, would
never allow Meadow out
barely allowed, away from sight,
overprotective eyes
Cady patiently waited, beside
the park gate, as always
as he watched his girl, run
freedom and beauty in her
eyes, a manifestation of
the name she was graced with
Indigo jeans, bleeding
into the rain, as she splashes
through, puddles reflecting
her love, as he smiles with
bright eyes, embracing her
sweet sixteen kisses, connect
Racing through the field, kids
crazy in love, sketching names
into hollowed out trees,
drinking beer, sparking a
doobie, last nights skater
smoking session, come undone
Hours pass, dark skies blacken
street lights lead, a pathway
home, laughter echoes
she's to climb the tree, crawl
in through the window
slightly parted for her return
Great escapes, all well and good,
falling drunk and high, left
her misunderstood, no way
back in home, she calls
"Skylar, can you let me in!"
"Coming now.."
Their kiss lingered, Cady pulled
away, and waved looking back
as his skate board took him
back down the street, home
"You love him Meadow!"
"Skylar, I really do."
© Sia Jane
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
*Blessed are the weird people...
Poets, Artists, Writers, Misfits.
For they teach us to see
the world through different eyes.*
**Devoted living,
Contradicted goals are just the things we despise.
For we grow in contrast to your limited sky.
We live to be free
An avian species yet to fly.**
*Understand that your soul
isn't bound by a
three-dimensional
earthly existence.
She who is brave is free.*
**We yearn for the sky
Hope for the light
Treasuring the summer breeze
Escaping the cold winter nights
Trapped in our diversity
Everlasting battles of creative adversity
In times of logic
Rhymes and rhythms seems Shakespearian, somewhat nostalgic.**
*We are the drifters,
& dancers, the sun worshippers
& risk takers. The dreamers,
the lovers, the believers
& change makers.*
**We are the offspring of Creativity
The red-headed step child of derivative.
Conveyors of empathy.
And without us nothing would exist
We are the golden child of heavens bliss.**
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
Your pleasing melody turned
in to an awful ditty.
That is when I realized it was
time, it was time to let it go.
You had turned my butterflies
blue. The stars in my sky skewed.
I grabbed an old soiled bag
from the closet that
was untouched.
I walked out of the dingy room,
that had been my home for years.
Home? I questioned myself.
How could that be my home
when the demon woke me up
with new scars everyday?
I continued walking.
The air was filled with the smell
of a stale heart along with
which came the first memory.
To where it all started.
I took it and put in my bag.
I ran down the stairs and found
another one under the table.
Caught hold of it and stuffed
it in the bag too.
Millions of
abominable voices
in my head and bleeding
hands couldn't stop me.
I entered an old room.
I walked towards the
mirror on the wall behind
blue drapes.
No reflection, but it
showed me what I
didn't want to see.
It didn't perturb me.
I was impregnable and
determined.
I closed the curtains
and locked the mirror
in the room forever.
By the time I reached the
main door I had captured
all of the wrinkled memories
and fiendish whispers in
my bag.
The ditty had stopped playing
and the stars aligned.
I had to get rid of those.
I lit my last matchstick
and set the heavy bag
on fire.
I burnt it down which burnt
the thirst for eleutheromania.
I opened the main door and
moved on.
I was out of the doorway and
made sure that I was never
getting back to my old ways.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
When things got tough in college
I had a threat I'd always make
"I'm running away to Iceland"
I'd adore never ending summer days
Of road trips to seek out hot springs
And camping wherever my feet take me
Icelandic folklore is steeped in magic
It makes me want to dance on volcanoes
With the lava demons from hekla
But mostly I'd love to be a part of
A culture that isn't afraid of failure
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
some say "i crave a love so deep that the ocean would be jealous", but i feel like i'm deeper than the ocean so what i crave is a love deeper than me.
i crave to love you so passionately, so beautifully that the demons that live within you will cringe at the thought of my being.
i crave to unravel all the horrific scenes of your soul and make them bow down to me, for i am Queen.
my love for you is numinous, so powerful that every virtuoso that has gotten comfortable inside of you will be begging for freedom. eleutheromania..
when you are frightened i will be your latibule, although the only duel thing you should be frightened at is the very touch of my lips pressed against yours & the touch of my finger tips running down your back..
let our skinship be the most powerful source, when we make love i want the demons of your past to scream in awe.
i will franch at your soul, until you are no longer of existence in a world so cruel, darling NOBODY can love you better.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
The subway in NYC
Is a rather odd circumstance
Underground transit
Tunnels from one world to the next
Cluttered
Smelly
Sometimes cold
Or terribly hot
All races
So many workers
In service of this city
I sit and I wonder
Why must I do this?
Is this part of the dream?
Or do dreams have repercussions?
A homeless man
Asks for a dime
A dollar he says
Will bide him some time
Every day I work
And every day I spend
In and out of the subway
Feels like quick sand
Underground, lost in thought
Is it all an illusion?
Are we really going anywhere?
I'd like to take my bike
Up into the clouds
Look down on all the beauty
And reconsider the
System
That rules underground
Delays our existence
I'm bound
Eleutheromania
Is what I feel each day
Aggravated by the mundane
By the waiting
I am stuck
Cramped between strangers
On time, early
Words I don't often employ
When I'm talking about myself
Lately I'm wondering
If my eternal clock is behind
Some things are so simple
Obvious
Quick to understand
Easy to achieve
Friendships I make
With very little effort
Lovers are not
So simple or obvious
I try to understand
Am I ever heading in the right direction?
Am I too easy?
Or is it too difficult to achieve?
I find so many men to be like the subway
Often a waste of time
Unreliable, mysterious
A nuisance
And yet I return
Almost every day
To the need and desire
To take the ride
Believing I'll arrive exactly where I want to be
Even if I'm late
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
*i seek it everywhere. i go long nights into high noon
with my pruning shears and my audacity, to snip blooms
from the moon's fist and shadows from my chafe heel...
clamoring over sharp stones and soft clods of moss sod
unwavering. unassailable and unmatched.
i grasp the happy dream by the mane of it's night-mare
and ride her through the marsh and bog.
i greet the day with a handful of blue lemons
and toss them into the wishing well
along with last year's eyes that saw you leave me
for the spit of a camel on an iceberg*.
and ennui go.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
If I am being double crossed or being told the truth, I know not to tell
But let me learn, even if tears swell.
If I should trust a human being or not, I know not to tell
But let that decision be mine, even if tears swell.
If the next step I take will be towards the mountain or the pit, I know not to tell
But let me fall, even if tears swell.
If the sea will be full of happiness for me, I know not to tell
But let my ship sink once, even if tears swell.
If the sun will brighten my life or scorch me down, I know not to tell
But let me burn, even if tears swell.
If I should have chosen the right path instead of the left, I know not to tell
But let the stars lead me, even if tears swell.
If my planned destination is not my destiny, I know not to tell
But let me find my way out, even if tears swell.
If I am young and foolish, I know not to tell
But let me grow old and wise, even if tears swell.
Give me a little more freedom, chances to make my own mistake
A little more freedom, to learn it my own way, is all I seek.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
I forever want to be
Free
I want to be able to go out and
Breathe
Without limitations
I want to just
Be
I want a world where I can just be
Me
I just want to be
Free
I want to
Sing
Loud and clear
With only nature as
Ear
To my broken
Voice
And my hurting
Words
I just want to be
Free
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
The joy in traveling alone is found in the idea of
temporarily being a part of something you're not a part of.
It's the idea of being alone in a seemingly different world,
where you have nothing from your world
and you're forced to experience where you are.
You'd be amazed by the fact that things happen miles away from where you are
and you don't even see or know it;
the strangers you meet, spend time and maybe fall in love with to never see again—
Traveling makes you a part of it all at least for a while.
It's the general thrill that the world is just so big,
that filling the spaces apart even in the smallest form feels right.
Mar 7, 2020
Mar 7, 2020 at 8:16 AM UTC