The strike of the cane, with the rush of pain.
Flooding you with such emotion,
Such satisfaction in the face of the man you lay with.
Though the pain is not the reasoning for your tears.
No. The tears show your sheer enjoyment. Many won't understand, but your love is not for them to understand anyway. His actions deriving from you deepest wishes.
Are for you alone.
Many long to be one with another, you have found it though. In the purest way. Equally giving into each other, willingly giving away your freedom to one another.
Ropes tighten as you feed each others fire.
A fire burning so bright untill the two of you
No longer can.
Though let it be known. Your love will clear many misunderstandings for the open minded ones. The love and need for pain. Solely for each others understanding.

In between   (a poem)
.
my mind struggles against its own illusion
nightmare tumbles out into still morning
light is heavy,
a fog of echoes...
and I am caught
.
day dreams the sunlight
dreams light the day
and I am caught in between
mourning echoes...
like a stillborn ghost
who can't take a breath in the present

….
  
I live on a tropical island and just want to go surfing with my husband, but the nausea in the early morning as I try to eat  breakfast and drive with him to the beach is so uncomfortable.  Day after day it makes even surfing a chore, and I consider not going anymore.  Background anxiety and unreasonable irritation interferes with our marriage, frustrates him enough to want me out.  

For me, a trip to the grocery store or meeting a group of people awakens the same dreadful fear as rockclimbing a cliff. Perspective has been lost in the extremes.  I try to gain some control over this hindering nuisance, seeking situations that bring the same surges of adrenaline so I can learn to master it.  If I can just push past the avoidance that would keep me inside doing nothing, if I can just ignore the feeling I want to throw up, if I can just get out there, I am rewarded with life’s potential beauty eventually.  Many days I do enjoy the thrill of mountain biking or connection with nature when surfing, but there are too many days of internal struggle that reduce what should be enjoyable to a relentless chore of wrestling inner demons.

The VA offers a few sessions of marriage counseling, and the doctor begins to explain PTSD.  ***, I’ve learned to cope with an unreliable brain, but now there’s this?  From what I understand (and that’s just me, an amateur philosopher) Sometimes the brain is so traumatized, that the memory is literally sealed off, encapsulated, protecting it from changing.  If later something happens that is similar, the brain triggers avoidance responses as a take-no-chances survival mechanism.  Literally the brain is protecting one’s self from one’s self.  This all-or-nothing strategy works fending off potential dinosaur attacks, but in our complex society, these automatic avoidance behaviors complicate functioning and well being.  Life becomes an attitude of constant reaction instead of motivated intention.

The website for the National center for PTSD says.  “After a trauma or life-threatening event, it is common to have reactions such as upsetting memories of the event, increased jumpiness, or trouble sleeping. If these reactions do not go away or if they get worse, you may have Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.”  

“Common reactions to trauma are:
• Fear or anxiety: In moments of danger, our bodies prepare to fight our enemy, flee the situation, or freeze in the hope that the danger will move past us. But those feelings of alertness may stay even after the danger has passed. You may:feel tense or afraid, be agitated and jumpy, feel on alert.  
• Sadness or depression: Sadness after a trauma may come from a sense of loss---of a loved one, of trust in the world, faith, or a previous way of life. You may:have crying spells, lose interest in things you used to enjoy, want to be alone all the time, feel tired, empty, and numb.  
• Guilt and shame: You may feel guilty that you did not do more to prevent the trauma. You may feel ashamed because during the trauma you acted in ways that you would not otherwise have done. You may:feel responsible for what happened, feel guilty because others were injured or killed and you survived.  
• Anger and irritability: Anger may result from feeling you have been unfairly treated. Anger can make you feel irritated and cause you to be easily set off. You may:lash out at your partner or spouse, have less patience with your children, overreact to small misunderstandings.  
• Behavior changes: You may act in unhealthy ways. You may:drink, use drugs, or smoke too much, drive aggressively, neglect your health, avoid certain people or situations.”   It lists four main symptoms: reliving the event, avoiding situations that remind of the event, feeling numb, and feeling keyed up (also called hyperarousal)”

Four words strung together: Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  They’ve become a tired cliché, exhausted from the endless threat of random cruelty camouflaged in banality, weary of the weight shouldering back the wall that separates death and gore from the living.  Living was a reflex beyond willpower and devoid of choice. Control was self-deception.  The mind was so preoccupied with A: survival, B: sanity, in that order.  Rest was a cruel illusion.  The tank was drained, no room for emotions ditched.  Empathy took too much effort, fear was greedy.  Hopefully they can be remembered and found on the other side, if there is one.  Sleep deprived cells were left hyper-alert from the imminent, shot up and addicted to adrenaline.  Living was Fate and Chance, and meant leaving that time and place sealed in forgetfulness.  

Now PTSD is a worn out acronym, a cold shadow of what it feels like.  I try to think of something more personal that can describe the way it randomly visits me, now resigned to its familiar unwelcome influence.  It steals through my brain, flying ahead of me with its own agenda of protecting sabotage.  Its like the Guardian Trickster of Native American legend.  Its an archetype but real enough to make mistakes: Chulyen, the black raven.

A decade after the ER, contentment is found in a garden of slow tranquility as a butterfly interrupts a sunbeam.  My heart fills with bittersweet as I’ve finally found something I love and want to keep.  Just then Chulyen’s grasping black claws clamp my heart with painful arrhythmia and it fills to burst, tripping in panic trying to recover its pace.  The sudden pain drops me to my knees, in the dirt between fragrant lavender and cherry tomatoes.  Pain stops breath and time and makes me remember the ER, when my heart rebelled its ordained purpose for a week.  I had tried to throw my bitter life back in God’s face but He didn’t take it.  Now that I have peace and a life that I treasure, He’s taking it now.  The price for my mistake is due.  It was all just borrowed time and I’m still so young, my children just babies.  God with a flick of cruelty reminds me not to put faith in the tangible, especially when its treasured.  The sharp claws finally relent and I can breathe, looking up with a gasp and the Raven takes flight overhead leaving a shadow.  Bright noon warmth, unusually heavy and foreboding, seems to say ‘there will come a time when you will not welcome the sun.’   Doctors run an EKG and diagnose ‘stress’.

The bird perches on my shoulder two more decades later, always seeing death just over there.  So I sit on the porch just a little longer and check my list again, delaying the unavoidable racing heart and rush of tension when I fix the motorcycle helmet strap under my chin.  I know all those stupid drivers have my life in their cell-phone distracted hands and hope my husband knows how much I love him, and my daughters too.  

Chulyen wakes me at 3:00 am when autumn’s wind aggravates the trees.  His rustle of black feathers outside unsettles summer’s calm night.  He brings an end-of-the-world portent that hints this peace is just temporary, borrowed.  Tribulation will return.

Ravens are attracted to bright shiny things.  Chulyen steals off with treasures like intention, and contentment.  I don’t realize they are missing until occasionally I find myself truly living in the moment.  I guess that is another reason why I crave adventure, for those instants and epiphanies that snap me out of that long term modis operandi of reacting, instead of being.  The daily list of ‘I must, or I should’ can for a brief while become ‘I want’  and I am free.

My companion the black bird perches relaxed in the desert on the gatepost of a memory.  A bullet-scarred paint-faded sign dangles by one corner from rusty barbed wire:
    No Trespassing    
    That Means You
I have a haunted idea what's behind the fence.  Chulyen implies the memory with a simple mistaken sound:
a Harley in the distance is for a second the agitating echo of a helicopter...
or those were the very same words they said when...
or I hear a few jangling clinks of forks in our warm kitchen...
hinting a cold cafeteria at 5:00 am smelling of fake eggs and industrial maple flavored corn syrup,
and everything else that happened that day...
My cells recollect, brace with the addictive rush of adrenaline.  But the raven denies access to the memory, distracting with discomfort.  I trip and I fall hard into the gritty dirt of irritation at the person who unknowingly reminded me.  Anxiety floods in along with fatigue of the helplessness of it all, back then and still now.  I can't go further.  Chulyen’s tricking deception says Leave This Memory, you never wanted to come back.
But I already knew from just recognizing the bird patiently sitting there a sentinal,
recalling every other time he tricked me with nausea and depression.
I tried to tell myself again that behind that gate,
the past has dried up from neglect.
Disintegrated into dust,
Blown away,
doesn't
exist.
…


After everything else, how to work through this?  The VA gave me a manual, a crudely printed set of worksheets with a government-looking blue cover page:  Cognitive Processing Therapy.
“In normal recovery from PTSD symptioms, intrusion, thoughts, and emotions decrease over time and no longer trigger each other.  However, in those who don’t recover, the vivid images, negative thoughts, and strong emotions lead to escape and avoidance.  Avoidance prevents the processing of the trauma that is needed for recovery and works only temporarily.  The ultimate goal is acceptance.  
There may be “stuck points”, conflicting beliefs or strong negative beliefs that create additional unpleasant emotions and unhealthy behavior.  For example, a prior belief may have been “ I am able to protect myself in dangerous situations.”  But after being harmed during military service, a conflicting belief surfaces, “I was harmed during service, and I am to blame.”  If one is ‘stuck’ here, it may take some time until one is able to get feelings out about the trauma, because one is processing a number of rationales.  “I deserved it because…” , or “I misinterpreted what happened, I acted inappropriately, I must be crazy…”  The goal is to change the prior belief to one that does not hinder acceptance.  For example, “I may not be able to protect myself in all situations.”

(chapter continues with recovery methods)

Misunderstandings can be caused
By the slightes thing
Things that have been done
Without thinking
Over the consequenses
Actions can be done in anger
Words can be said in sadness
And in the end
They can both cause problems
But...

Some times actions can
slove what words have caused
And some times words can heal
the wounds created by actions
But sometimes
only time
Can heal everything that have happened
And some wounds
Won't heal at all...

I should be given the gold medal for creating misconceptions
Cause i always accidentally start misunderstandings
With my poor word structure
A sad excuse for a poet like me

i had thought
the boy in my computer science class
with the foreign skin and army outfit
was the epitome of adorable
breaking into spanish when he got overexcited about learning
which was always
and i was excited when we were paired together today
until he seemed genuinely impressed by my competency
and contributed nothing
suddenly his misunderstandings of gender and sexism no longer
seemed like something i could cutely teach him about
but a tragic flaw
and a person i didn't want to be around

Fog seeps through every inch of me
Distorting my views of
You
Cleansing me of each thought of
You
These bleak misunderstandings of
You
Because it was really never actually about
You

It is an odd thing about misunderstandings odd I say
Because they never break even, almost never get re-
Solved can only be forgot and that's hard to do.
Think on it and what's to do;  take the blame 'n you
Might be wrong and be coldly stung again 'n if your
Not to blame can saying your sorry ever help.  No
It takes grace and about that what can be known and
Not be smart  alecky.  No, misunderstanding is a hard
Nut to crack and hard to forget and never remember
Again and if you do remember well there is no sense
In that now than there was before.  So I may be wrong
but I'll say it anyway: Forget me not my old friends ...


With inspiration from Robert Frost and Edith Wharton

Why are you so possessive
Turning so very aggressive
Can't I be friends with both
Then I shall take an oath
Never to befriend anyone
I hate everyone
If you don't trust me
From your life I shall flee
Never looking back
Don't bother following in my tracks

It means you tried to look pretty for another man. You put on your eyeliner and mascara to attract him, look good for him. You put on a skin tight dress for him. You looked at him in the eyes and let him touch your hands or your back. You sat in the front seat with him and you let him give you flowers. You tried to want him, to love the color of his eyes or to like the shape of his body. You looked at him with lustful eyes without love. For a moment, you even tried to picture him as your husband or to have his child or what his child would look like if it were yours too. You might even have thought of his lips on yours or his body on top. You spoke to him with all the wrong intentions, not for work, not because he lives at your dorm or because you know him a bit, not even because he's just a random friend, but because of all the wrong intentions.

And all this was within 10 days of your drama and now you still have the audacity to tell me all about your loyalty and about how you've been nothing but loyal but if that, you think is loyalty then you don't know half the meaning of that word because loyalty doesn't need to taste other men/women and it sure wouldn't have put him in my shoes. Loyalty wouldn't try to lust over other men like a **** or dress up in **** tight jeans for them. Loyalty wouldn't need a free trial.

And lets flip roles here and say I tried to do what you did and lets say I took a pretty girl with straight hair out for a drive in my car and lets say I used my best perfume to smell nice for her and to want her to want to kiss me and lets say she's been trained to cook the best food and look the best for a husband and she's smart too and lets say that for a moment I try to want myself to want to be her husband and lets say she's more into me than I'll ever be into her and all she wants is to be sitting on my lap but she won't say it and I know her intentions but I take her out anyway and I wear my best button down and I say no to her proposal of getting me into her bed late at night but that doesn't mean I didn't try to want to say yes.

Would you call me "loyal" then if it took me lesser than 2 weeks to **** up a 3 year relationship which was made of so much more than 2 bodies, which was made of two hearts and souls. 10 days isn't enough for "loyalty" to want to move on or to try to. Loyalty is a pledge witnessed by god. Loyalty holds itself up in distance or in despair or in sickness or in misunderstandings and it surely holds itself up much longer than 10 ******* days.

So tell me whatever, tell me you aren't sorry or that you don't want him and you want me or don't want me or tell me about why we will never happen or why we will, tell me of his seven figure salary (and I won't give a ****), tell me his pros and all my cons, tell me how I was never enough or how I was too much, tell me whatever but don't you dare act loyal to make yourself feel better about your selfish **** self by calling it self-love and don't you dare tell me about stories of your loyalty with me because it only takes one to **** it all up and don't you dare disgrace my loyalty to you by ever calling yourself loyal after going out on a date with him.

I wanted to write something
About how people are never as important as they think they are
And how the actions of others don't really affect me.
But I waited for inspiration to strike, and it just wouldn't come.
Not that there's not evidence.
So I'll just write this note.
No poetry, no prose.
I'm not sorry if I offended you.
I'm not sorry if you think I dislike you.
I'm not sorry if you think I have a vendetta against you.
Honestly, it's all in your head.
You don't matter that much.

he used to say he was speaking for an entire people
probably he meant that he understood the sheer veil of
not possessing the Owner yet cursing closed veins
and i can cut Narcissus' marron curls twice think about listing emotions regularly
unafraid some blood refuses to flow my way i feel deficient

behind the sheer-blue veils of eyes
and the water/the waves there is nothing more
than an unpoet
a piece of work
very much instead
a fool also
behind Narcissus is the unbending floor
i can see some gushing grey pieces of completely undusted power

his hands do not interfere with heated temperatures
when Narcissus touches my red-left-ear
without asking the rest of his body remaining same
steady
not even refreshing/refreshed anymore

he again and again clasps his shell hands around
my shoulders some sort of hug and i
freeze yet dissolve i am a watered down paradox
i do not know how to behave
i wish another Nemesis would clasp me that she
would put me into a bathtub my natural
habitat is water anyways
they are Rex and Regina and
i love how her hair remains darker, shorter
even after i cut his curls it does not matter what i do
they are powerful

meanwhile i am in the clouds all
blue all by myself i blurred my vision for
mountains of misunderstandings
those are my trophies i float and
scratch the tips of my fingers on all
the glowing god
awful drama i am a naked goddess the clouds
take me away
they shield me from lightning but not from darkness
i find myself fixated on the dark side of the moon for
scraps of paper it lulls for
individual letters it spits out
i wish i could stop being eighteen or nineteen or
twenty or twenty-two why do numbers come
for me algebra was never my forte i count
and count but my feelings never add up

and i finally feel grounded
into dirt Lupin closest to me our legs
line up without lights always
a little more wild
animal-like and
he kisses my back right where
i chose the moon to reside still it does not
phase me it does not change my desire
to dissect the muscles in his arms
leave the ones in his skull alone
doubt his feelings for me and my feelings for him and my feelings for me i lost my path and Lupin remains
third chasing me down dark chasms
consciously or pinned down we're always in bed
all of us pinned down by the heat by my pillows by the
lines on my neck
Lupin, i love it when you pin me down but you do not
keep me awake when
i've retreated into my bathtub

last blood moon made me bleed i am an
open wound still i am ******* holy/wholly
when you are conquered by me you will
scream for mercy

on middle grounds i shake the veils
around my waist that ground me minimally
i shake and shack them wishing to glue eyes next to
the garnets that garnish my see-
through dress i assess my desires again
i do not know about mildness i want
every star in the milky room every level in the crossed-out
game i want materials rough i want materially everyone on my list

you will never see through me even when
i open my chest there will be vaults of veils
Salome counted only seven but she was
a woman in the first century after men ****** up i
am intellectually miles ahead of her
i have sewn miles of veils together
a silky harness i shield myself with

my egotism is rising on a mountain of misunderstandings
in the milky room they all revolve around me my planets,
my moons crystal clear
my comets and you are dark energy Possessing me
everywhere yet persisting unveiled/unknown
not even your existence can be proven and i do not
ever want to see you/not see you
you are completely parallel to me

and i know my river sweetness is not over
me when he paints me i see his own
****** features through holes in my
face it pains me
how he still wishes we could
come together how he wouldn't
fall so far behind

you will never see through me
i twist the truth to be a diluted version of your thoughts which
i have read and despised i despise tongues and *****
still i dwell in wetness was this what i wanted to reach?
do i know? why do my eyes itch and i scratch until i bleed
never let it heal i want to be in pain

why do my eyes itch whenever i eat anything
itty bitty spicy risqué
why do i cry over four flights of stairs,
four flocks of friends,
four flights back home,
and the exit is wide wide open

I don't understand what you mean to me.
Is it friendship?
Is it lust?
You're gone now and I still don't understand.
Was it friendship?
Was it lust?

So what if
I liked the sensation of your
bare skin?
Along with the lingering
charisma you leave on
my lips?
And what if
I found your briefs
with a scent of
infidelity and lavender
on the bedside table?
**Now, what if
I murmured
"I still love you."
and under your boiling skin
you smelt
the truth run itself out of my
shower drain?

We couldn't say what we meant,
Because we didn't know.

Surely we meant Something,
But Something didn't show.

Something was meant to be powerful!
Something was meant to be good!

Instead we said what we didn't mean.
And neither understood.

Constantly craving a crazed
Escape
Fleeing reality, piece by piece
Aware the immortality
Isn't an option
Never ceasing to seek
Release

Questioning other's
Translucent translation
Of a world that centers
All of us each
Construals clashing, creating division
Misunderstandings at war
No point in speech

Attempts to read between the  lines
Can be painful and it’s true
That one must first ensure
What they interpret
Is what is meant by you

The next time you get your feelings hurt
By what you thought you read
Make sure you read the lines themselves
And understand what is said

So many misunderstandings
And arguments that ensue
Are caused by not understanding
What is said to you

Listen closely truth is silent
Let the silence speak to you
But remember to listen carefully
To what is being said too

We love you* they said
I believed them as any other child would.
they had to love me.
so I left them with no other choice
than to hate me.
to leave them with eyes
drowning in an ocean of misunderstandings
trying to make sense of things.
make sense of me.
with hard times comes a hard hand.
or so it was for me.
not for them.
they did not know me.
they do not know me.
so I get a hard hand.
followed by a we love you.
Leaving my eyes
drowning in an ocean of misunderstandings.
*I love you too

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

If  misunderstandings are born n somehow grow ;

Don't let them develop,  out them at your earliest throw ;

Or grow they will,  if  them you hatch or  in the  air blow.

Sit down at your earliest and them discuss, in a note  or sound low.

Destroy we,  relationships beautiful, if we let  misunderstandings creep  in n flow.

May our relationships and friendships ever grow and glow.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

All the mistakes I made in the past
They follow and chase me down my path
I'm trying to let them go
But they won't leave me alone

Errors and misunderstandings
These two words I cannot fathom
They keep pulling me down
And closer to the ground

Ms. Love & Mr. Understanding -
They go together like
The mists of love & misunderstandings.

Ms. Love was 15, Ms. Love woke up
Now Ms. Love is 25 with no one to love
Except memories of yesterday, once upon a far away
She met a boy - same old story - now he's gone and now he's all she
Wants – but they both have moved on
Yeah they both have moved on…
Or haven't they?

Dan understanding understated undemanding
Underwhelmed to find his hand in hand in hand with Beatrice Blanding
She's a nice girl in the right world and though she may not be the right girl
She loves him dearly
And he loves her… nearly
But is it nearly enough?

Looking for love behind all the wrong doors
Like you came into the bedroom and forgot what you came for -
Is it something different, is it more of the same?
Was it someone else, or is it me again?

Dan understanding gives Ms. Love a call
He says I've missed too much of your life already I can't miss it all
Oh, what say you wanna play? I'm on a train I'm round your way
I'm up to here with being brave, I want to see what life could have been
Do you know what I mean?
Do you mind if I lean in and…
Kiss you?

Looking for love behind all the wrong doors
Like you came into the bedroom and forgot what you came for
Is it something different, is it more of the same?
Was it someone else, or is it me again?

Ms. Love & Mr. Understanding -
They still go together like
The mists of love & misunderstandings.

For as long as I can remember
My daddy doesn't cry.
Ridiculous, I know,
But I never saw a tear leave his eyes.
When his son got sent away,
My daddy didn't cry.
When he lost his job
Again and Again and Again
My daddy didn't cry.
When his brother died
My daddy didn't cry.
When we found out my siblings had autism
My daddy didn't cry.
When his sister in law died,
My daddy didn't cry.
When his mom died 26 hours later,
My daddy didn't cry.
But when my father realized that he was slowing losing me
When I had failed to tell him how much I loved him
He sat in the car
Tears shining in his eyes
And he begged me
He begged me to give him a second chance.
And as a single tear streamed down his face
I couldn't help but tear up myself
At the thought of all the miscommunication
All the fights and all the misunderstandings
For the first time in forever
I actually felt loved by father,
That first time
I saw my daddy cry.

I can't still believe it,
    You are arriving to my side
    And the night is a handful
    Of stars and happiness.

    I feel, taste, listen and see
    Your face, your long step,
    Your hands and, however,
    I can't still believe it.

    Your return has so much
    In common with you and me,
    That, because I guess it I say it,
    And because of the doubts I sing it.

    No one ever could replace you
    And the most trivial things
    Become fundamental,
    Because you are arriving home,
    However I still
    Doubt of this good luck,
    Because the pleasure of having you
    Seems to me like a fantasy.

    But you come and it is sure
    And you come with your gaze,
    And for that reason your arrival
    Makes the future magic.

    And although I have not always understood
    My blames and my breakdowns,
    On the other hand I know that in your arms
    The world has sense.

    And if I kiss the audacity
    And the mystery of your lips
    There won't be doubts nor misunderstandings,
    I will love you much more.

Mario Benedetti

Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...


This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...


Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...


Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
  
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.


Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens

observing the ardent eagerness of the wind
it is clearly understood
that nascent pollens are overflowing
the niche of her heart  

in response to the signals of the river
she keeps on ringing
all long the month of earth-quakes

the bench of the rail-station
wants to hug her

the medicine-counter of the ***-end of the day
beckons her with the hand to come nearer

in the assembly-hall for musical demonstration
adorned with ash-trays
going on the rehearsal of her dancing and singing

she also distributes some life
to the meticulous dressing
of the magnolia

2.
let the swimming pool be fully absorbed  
with its dark-room

when the feather of your fore-finger
becomes green

the merchant of venice
will leave his business of photo-coping machine
to start walking directly
in search of new earnings

evening sets in
on the boiler of the delta

putting on yellow-dress comes
the water-vessel of the paper-balloon

there is no singing bird
shivering with cold
in the fold of the dear bed-sheet  

it is possible that the boldness of the metro-railway
may give some wood of tamarisk
on the expanded palms  

yet oh the western page of night
do tell today
why so much tamed polythene
are here in our cohabitation

3.
after so many days
published in the wind
painted in wings
the recent heart’s desire
of the doors and windows

they have rolled up their fairy-tales
from the ignorant drawing-room that wanted
to set her mind to the hill slanting downward

they did not want to know
how much rheumatism is there
in the hands and legs of the bark
to whom is delegated
the control of the mason-made bus-journey

sleep hugs the eye-lids of the rivers

though there is no postage-stamp
within the reaching-point

then what magic is there
in the hill slanting downward

why the wall does not learn
how to swim like a fish

truly it is he from whom
those negligible moments of man-ism
itch for blue candle-stand

4.
the ***-appeal of the telephone
and the bugle of the carnies-breaking ****-crows
are all harmonised seamlessly

the noon in the blood
is flowing along the river

all the dialogues are covered
with misspelling of men and women

the tailors want to increase life
cutting rightly the walking of clothes

after the vanishing of collyrium
from the eyes
there is not a single being
in the relief-camps

as far as the eyes can travel
i can notice in the ear-lob of the village-boats
the water-colour of fire-flies
twinkles

then let an agreement be signed
with the defence ministry
on the right
to enter into private bathroom

5.
in the air
on which flowers are engraved
the union of the betel leaves are making their outposts
anew

before the calling of the next pine-woods
you all the butterflies do take on board the tram
to go to the south-pole

is it well to incline so much
towards the tv-screen

who can say
the waves of the terracotta
would never make revolution

i’ve sent some full-moons of winter
and some water-bodies
into the holes of the handkerchief

the lacking of the colours
may kindly be excused

the birds that are blind from their birth
has been singing till now
the songs of the cave-civilisation

there is no question any where
this eclipsed-valley is adorned
with the answers only

6.
i am to be blown off on the first bombardment
then it is to be flown
in the crowd of  fire-flies
on the bushes of the scented-lemons

and it is to see the memory race of the grown-up girls

it is to see more
that after the opening of the sluice gates
one by one  
how the gathering in the hindu hotels
increases
by leaps and bounds

the pores of the skin of the body
whose hoods are open
and who are running up
along the spiral route
that leads to the top of the mountain

their child
due to late-marriage
now only knows
how to move on all fours

7.
under the table-glass
i  unfold the life-chronicle of one lakh year

and in the olive-cabinet
all the applications for living

from the monsoon-noon to the winter-afternoon
the lines you draw on the parchment

none of them is so condensed
as to touch the palms of a sailor  

from the numerable timber-joists
come down the swarms of personal white ants

no spring seems to become corporeal
without the spell of misunderstandings  

so of late
besides the dry statistics
with the cough
comes out grey thermometer

prickly-heats spread over the whole body  

the sticks of young antenna
shake off their wings

behind the bath-scene
lies the succulent hailstorm

8.
there is no lovely add
yet the market-value of your headache
is going up day by day

all the noon send her mad
the intellectual kisses
the coos

or is it the running about of the tennis-ball

so much pop-corns are flying out
from the draw-well

or that sound of foot-steps
in the north-east

may be
that is of some brown horses
or some horse-drawn perambulators

when the moon spreads out the platinum
does it judge the recipients

thus the bin-leaves can ring
from head to foot

it unfurls an incorrigible right-angle
in the early-evening

the troop with armours
open a shop of ******
beside the vainglory of the lake

Double edged sword
You gave them your word
Not a necessity
But a possessive desire
Got burnt by the fire
But it felt so good

Doing new things you’ve never done before
Inhibitions released and spirits soar
New trails being blazed and opened doors
Then the question come up, what you really here for?

When they’re happy it’s because they love you
When they’re ***** it’s because they wanna *******
When they’re mad all they wanna do is diss you
And when they’re sorry it’s because you got a shoulder to cry on and sympathetic tissues

And the situations can be reciprocal
As you put each other on that pedestal
You try to fit in each other’s schedule
And be together in the time residual

Sometimes you wanna **** them
Then you look back at the times when
You used to think they might have been heaven sent
And made changes and sacrifices as if every day was Lent

The break up
The make up
The forgiveness ****
All that nonsense for what?

To get your blood boiling
Just part of everyday mortal coiling
Suffer in the pain just toiling
Just forget about it blow it off its just annoying

You talk about kids, a house and a family
During a late night-early morning talk over some coffee
Thinking about the future is interesting
But you can’t predict so just wait and see

Then you got that real drama
Like a ******* soap opera
Know when it’s coming it ain’t ever a shocker
Just keep your mouth shut to keep good karma

Double edged sword
You gave them your word
Not a necessity
But a possessive desire
Got burnt by the fire
But it felt so good

Thinking they’re gonna be the death of you
But it doesn’t matter when it’s just them and you
In bed getting close making moves
Not caring letting loose with nothing to prove

Because you both know about that ***
That it’s just the best
When you ain’t gotta worry what comes next
And all the dramatic and arguments can be put to rest

All the jealousy
Emotionally
Devotionally
Taking its toll you see

Misunderstandings
Demanding
Reprimandings
Seeing where you’re both standing

This whole time I’ve been talking about you and I
You’re the only thing take makes me aware that I’m alive
The reason I survive
Every day with you on my side

So stop with the opposition
I got one mission
No compromising positions
So look me in the eye and listen

I love you
I hate you
I need you
I want you

I don’t know what’ll happen today
And tomorrow’s too far away
We're way past yesterday
I guess what I’m trying to say is

All that matters is you and me
And all that we can ever be
Is loyal and honest to the highest degree
And try to take it one step at a time rationally
And walk hand in hand through our clandestine destiny

Double edge sword
I gave you my word
She got the best of me
I’m no liar
So cut me, slash me
I’d die for her

Dustin
     Amanda

Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...


This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...


Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...


Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
   
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.


Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens