"vagueness" poems
You're a one night stand
But we spent too many nights
I lost count of it.
You're that unexpected kiss
On a drunken wasted night
Of vomits and *****
You're that awkward hi
Exchanged by strangers who
Thought they both knew each other
But were clearly mistaken for another.
You're the bruise that turns blue
When I accidentally bump my leg
On the corner of the bed.
You're the scar that I never
Knew I had.
You're the bittersweet taste in
My mouth every morning.
You're the last thought lingering
In my head before slumber takes me
And you're the vagueness that
Haunts me in my dreams.
You're the scalding hot shower
In a cold freezing morning.
You're the boiling tea that numbs
My tongue for the rest of the day.
You're the obsession
I will never learn to let go of.
You're that person I will
Never get to call mine.
You're the one that got away.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
I walk into the mirror box again and it’s as if my life
really is just an extension of my own metaphors.
I’m caught in the mirror maze, searching for something
in the mirrors at angles, but all I can see is myself,
my sad, stupid self, stretching on and on forever
with the same boring face, the same boring feelings,
again and again until I stop being able to make out the details.
Am I looking back at myself or am I looking forwards to the future?
Will it always be the same or has it merely been
the same since forever? I stare into the mirror tunnel
at all these selves repeating themselves,
forcing the years, the weeks, the days into the same strict patterns,
merely following the self that came before them, merely mirroring
the feelings, only doing it worse and worse with each new rendition.
It’s just me, I think, *in the mirror box, caught up in myself
because I am selfish and horrible.* I’m selfish and horrible
and I want to turn my back on myself but
how can I possibly do that in the mirror box?
I meet myself over and over, and it’s just me,
in all this vast, repetitive vagueness, just me in
this long stretch of lonely unsettledness that surely doesn’t end.
I want to smash my own face in, so I close my eyes
and try to think, maybe, maybe, maybe, because I don’t
want to be this grey-cloud self forever. I can’t be, and so maybe,
just maybe, somewhere beyond all these selves
there’ll be a day when I’m down on the shore
and the sea will be calm and the sky will be
faded purple. Love will not sink down into nothingness
because in the cool evening air, my heart will be full
instead of gaping and my mind will be at ease
instead dwelling on it’s own boringness
or entangling itself in own self-created sadness.
And maybe, I’ll have abandoned my book
and its pages will be dry because I won’t have been crying into it.
They’ll be no mirrors, just the ocean,
glinting like an amethyst cluster in the half light
and I’ll rest my head on the shoulder of the girlfriend
I'll meet someday and I’ll smile in this beautiful liminal moment
and nothing will be tainted by the dread of returning home.
We’ll kiss – on the shore – and rewrite it forever and
maybe the stars will fall out of the sky when I shake it and
all my trains will run on time and all the wounds
in the world will heal simultaneously.
It’s a moment surely stolen from someone else’s poetry,
but I’ve got to cling to something to avoid becoming
lost entirely in all this dark, intangible vagueness.
There’s got to be at least one imaginary moment
that isn’t just me, reflected over and over.
There’s got to be one moment that doesn’t stare
back at me from inside the mirror box.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Can't sleep, it's always the same.
I get to my room, exhausted, lie in my bed,
Close my eyes and the Sleepless Fairy
decides to take the reins of the situation.
Maybe if I go to my computer and surf for a while
I could doze off. Maybe I'll go out and have a cigarette
to calm the Fairy. No, this insomnia is different. I can't fix it
with simple solutions.
This wakefulness is not due to the anxiety of an exam,
or the diffidence I have for that one girl I can't get out
of my head. This insomnia is that small sparkle of
uncertainty that has abounded my mind for a long time.
That feeling of vagueness, of yearning. Yearning of what?
I don't know.
It is simply that feeling that I'm missing something,
whatever it is. I go around the whole day in my mind,
what am I missing? What am I forgetting?
During the day I'm acquiescent, lucid, happy.
But come night... time to go to bed.
Time to perform the daily check for recent events.
Catalog the occurrences with different feelings,
accommodated to their respective memories.
But there's something missing.
I curse the Fairy and its 1001 tricks that keep me
awake and conscious about that which is in the
subconscious.
Will the day come when the Fairy shows up no more?
As long as that feeling is housed in me, like a parasite
clogged on its new victim, the Fairy will keep visiting.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
I leapt and dove into the depths of indigo
Night spilled carelessly onto my sky
Darkness smothered with tides of indigo
I almost drowned and whimpered a cry
Grappled with the vagueness of indigo
Out of the blue, I'd emerge with a heavy sigh
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
You are my fire
My titanic ocean
Your Love burns
Right through my
Very soul
Your love can purify me
Make me whole.
The wind of nature
Is like your Love
It's like no other
I've been thinking of
It Encircles me
Dynamically
Breathing upon my heart
Today
That I may inherit it's
Power
And I hear you say
"Come, Fill this vacuum
that your Love
Enslaves me
Cease this emptiness
That fills my soul
Only your love
Can save me
Give me life
Make me whole".
Please speak to
My heart today
Encourage my Love
Please don't delay.
Clear the vagueness
Which impedes me
Come enlighten my
Mind, Body and Soul
And the truth will only
Lead us
To the love that makes
Us whole.....
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
i like to listen to the silence of the night
because beneath the deafening stillness
and gruelling vagueness that it holds are
the sound of your breathing that i sync with mine
the chuckles you make when i say a bad joke
the rustle of sweet words you mutter to my ear
the disarming roughness of your voice when you talk
i like to listen to the silence of the night
because its warmth is my brief escape from loneliness
and its noise is calm and inviting
and because for a moment, no matter how quick,
silence takes me to you
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
[Dedicated to K.M.Ward]
"I will arise and go unto my father"
MALKUTH
Dark, dark all dark! I cower, I cringe.
Only ablove me is a citron tinge
As if some echo of red, gold and lue
Chimed on the night and let its shadow through.
Yet I who am thus prisoned and exiled
Am the right heir of glory, the crowned child.
I match my might against my Fate's
I gird myself to reach the ultimate shores,
I arm myself the war to win:-
Lift up your heads, O mighty gates!
Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors!
The King of Glory shall come in.
TAU
I pass from the citrine:deep indigo
Is this tall column. Snakes and vultures bend
Their hooted hate on him that would ascend.
O may the Four avail me ! Ageless woe,
Fear, torture, throng the treshold. LO1 The end
Of Matter ! The immensity of things
Let loose -new laws, new beings, new conditions;-
Dire chaos; see ! these new-fledged wings
Fail in its vagueness and initiations.
Only my circle saves me from the hate
Of all these monsters dead yet animate.
I match, &c.;
YESOD
Hail, thou full moon, O flame of Amethyst !
Stupendous mountain on whose shoulders rest
The Eight Above. More stable is my crest
Than thine -and now I pierce thee, veil of mist!
Even as an arrow from the war-bow springs
I leap -my life is set with loftier things.
I match, & c.
SAMECH ( and the crossing of the Path of Pe)
Now swift, thou azure shaft of fading fire,
Pierce through the rainbow! Swift, O swift! how streams
The world by! Let Sandalphon and his quire
Of Angels ward me!
** what
3.5k
Oh the wax
upon my fingers,
burns of antecedent time;
sticky and unpleasant.
Drips of vagueness,
like tears before bed.
Crying appeal always so strange.
The shape of you,
a thin tall tower of white.
Sometimes red,
as my eyes staring at the dark's
only light.
Scented in desire,
an orange jelly at her centre,
I'd love you only now,
but what of later's pleasure?
The winds of my lungs kills the light,
with it's dues of pressure.
_Ssssttt—_goes the after echo,
of wet fingers on wick.
Feeling an empty dark
without you around.
_A feeling once lit._
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 3:34 PM UTC
I find myself blithely content when she's around though at times I look around and find she's nowhere to be found
Till I close my eyes and smile having seen her in my my mind.
A goddess she is indeed,especially when the corner of her lips are in motion towards her ears. I admire from a distance,she's so ideal. I crept close with my weakened knees pulled closer by the anima mundi and force of attraction in it.
She uttered words to my soul which equalised to my heart to liquidise. Though I was in vagueness with what she said,she sure could sing.
But you know what "they" say that neutral cliché "everything is temporary."I woke up. What a dream.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
A friend can be like the storm that blows everything up, tries your patience, causes changes; but reminds you to be geared up and vigilant.
A friend can be like the rain that, at the first pour, leads into anxiety; but later on, raindrops keep you calm, thus a friend shows tranquillity upon everyone – serene and happy.
A friend can be like a lightning rod that strikes everyone surprise with annoyance to the ears; but reminds you that a surprise – with all its noises – grants unsolicited bliss which lasts in memory.
A friend can be like a cloud that separates from the others in the vastness of the expanse, and floats alone – the emo, ; but reminds you to be considerate and sympathetic at all times.
A friend can be like the mist that seems mysterious and unreachable, full of secrets and vagueness; but reminds you to take risk of knowing him profoundly so to appreciate the truth within.
A friend can be like the sun – superior in nature – that can heat up the situation; but gives you warmth in times of coldness, reminds you that darkness would just pass, and that the new morning unfolds soon to absorb your pessimisms.
And a friend is as constant as this – day or night, sunny or rainy, cold or warm, filled or cloudless – the azure that covers everyone beneath any threat, any trial, any worry, any doubt; the azure that holds a promise of watching over you as it did yesterday and is doing today, and the azure that awaits your hopeful tomorrow…
Is that which embraces you under its shelter and defence – yes, the great sky.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
[Sidra of the Stars]
a goddess has awakened
eyes slowly open
penetrating...
light reflects off the irises
(recessive blue alleles on chromosome 15)
my name is Sidra
and I will not be diverted.
-
I stand under sol
I stand under the earth's satellite
I stand in the vale.
-
look upon my feet
the fine lines of support
and strength of design
golden light showers
my long legs
strong and graceful
gaze upon my curves...
silky
ample
hypnotic
look at my golden arms
that comfort babes
dig into the earth
and create abstractions
hands and fingers of elegance
given to me by my grandmother
nails to claw and hands to hold
look at my long neck
draped in silver metal and black glass
falling between my *******
hips compliment the
curve of my spine and
the upward tilt of my chin
my hair is a golden light
shining over hoops of silver
and diamond studs
crystal pierces my nose
lips soft and full
eyes lined in black, never faltering
-
this goddess is aware
conscious
enlightened
eager.
-
I will not abide
silence
undeserved
because you lack the courage
to face me.
I will not abide
deception
manipulation
or syrupy black selfishness.
I will not abide
injustice
mockery
or ultimatums.
I will not abide
misrepresentation
vagueness
or weakness.
-
I am Sidra
of
the stars
of
the sky
of
the night
-
I move swiftly in the night
eyes bright
a creator
a lover
a muse
thoughts align
images swirl
pen to paper
my body moves
sensuous and confident
music booms
lips curve upwards
-
the day descends with
distractions pulling awareness
into waves of concentration
tiny fragments of
thoughts and ideas
begin to build
for later contemplation
-
I know the minds of men.
I will not be diverted.
My power has been revealed.
I will protect the unprotected
**And I will stand
Made of stars
And unleash Hell.**
-
I will reign terror on your ego
and bring the sword down
on your garishness.
Naked and ******** on my warhorse
I will strike you down with silver spear
and you will pay for your misdeeds.
In all my thundering beauty
with nothing but logic and art
I will slam you to the wall
and declare you a fool.
-
I am Sidra of the Stars
I stand in the vale
I will not be diverted.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
And the prophets all dressed in their Sunday's best,
Waiting for the secret of the sacred test
While the little red birds and the big black crows
Sang a tune, "One above, one below"
And as she whittled the knife cross her wrist,
She came across an ancient tryst
A place she knew from way back when;
The place she knew that she would end
It had hands like hers, and vulnerable eyes,
But the mind did not shake, the soul not disguise
It drug her away from the beady-eyed ones,
While she stared from below with a mouthful of guns
It took her away to a quiet room,
Where around her was no one she knew
She turned to look at its face, but only emptiness
She turned to ask it a name, but only vagueness
And what did you mean when you said you had a dream
Full of colorful squares and the butter king?
And why did the man drinking gin from a can,
Provide such a riddle on the night of the ******
"He'll come to you in chains, so take what he gives"
Does this mean that I'll die, and he lives?
Is redemption the path for the doomed and the great,
That comes only when called upon by your fate?
Where then is this world, with chips, ruffles and pearls?
Where is my ticket to? Heaven or Hell?
Either way, I'm not meant for this realm,
Where I'm flying blind with no one at the helm
The haunted attic days are over
No more crimson, no more clover
The lollipops are frozen, the crisps have turned black
They possess everything; I only love what I lack
So rid me of here, or obliterate it all;
Being "self-contained" just isn't my call
I could be strong and keep a tight trigger,
But these unborn chicken voices are bigger
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 11:33 PM UTC
Chop down the city lights of Paranoia.
Cathartic beads of sweat roll
off the horrors of your back
under the saggy breast lamps
in the pitched dreams where the nightmare kids
come to watch you sleep.
Somersaulting walls made of human tissue,
the love of your life overseas, and everything you say
comes out as water torture on hollow centers of hope.
poetry is dead.
Liars smoke ten packs a day,
social criminals stroll in marathons of perdition
across the rot of post-modern vices,
their feet stomp closer to watching faces under the bed.
'This is a story. A dream!'
Everyone sees the fire under the bed.
Watch-fires earthbound by every word
before it is said,
gagged in envy--brought to glow by spineless atoms.
Every sexless sun has a beard, a saved flirtation that singes
the vacuum of today's soul,
a dead dream because you didn't pull it from the brink.
No one has a name in poetry. A task. A point. An exit.
One bed-room apartments locked with pearls
visible only to soloist dogs.
No sorry for vagueness or shut-mouth or bleeding upwards. The meter is running....
to the pharmacy
because it could be pregnant with all the possibilities.
And the whole amphitheater wants to hear one line, the life changer you brought
--here it is: Forget your name.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
I imagine my happy place,
I picture it in vignette taste.
Like looking through colored glass,
There's a sepia quality to its grasp.
Like wading through a dream,
There's a vagueness to its every gleam.
Everything's the same yet different here,
A constant familiarity hangs in the air.
The picture varies from time to time...
Always it would be a house of some kind;
The edges forever unrefined,
Be it a cabin, a mansion, a farmhouse or two or three
Every ***** nook and cranny this mind could carry
Always it would be somewhere remote;
By the sea, the countryside, by a cliff, or under trees,
Sometimes in an open clearing of endless green grass swaying in the breeze.
... Home.
Though every version varies,
One thing's for certain in this house of made-up stories.
Always, always, and always a thousand times more,
You'd be there standing by the door.
Now I never questioned this part somehow
Cause here's the truth of the matter in tow:
This place could be a garbage dump for all I care
But I'd still call it heaven so long as you're there.
And I find that it's the only thing that matters;
To have your figure carved into this place's corners
I'd gladly let this place take your shape
The smell of warm bread and books here you shall drape.
This landscape is treacherous and ever-changing.
But I know as long you're there in my dreaming,
These childish mock-ups of reality
Shall remain my favorite moments of clarity.
It is my piece of heaven on earth,
My secret happy place while I'm on this dirt.
Heaven don't have a name
But God forbid I find it fitting
That if it did, of course
It would be yours.
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 6:25 AM UTC
No arguments were made
or evidence exposed
convincing bad assumptions
turned the open sign to closed
If that is all it takes
baseless suspicion, fear and doubt
perhaps thats the sign you're looking for
the one that lets you out
There's been no misinformation
no vagueness and no lies
but every now and then
I see doubt creep in your eyes
I can't help you solve this issue
only you choose who to trust
but there's no relationship without it
you can't get by on lust.
As for me well I trust everyone
until they show me I should not
better that than throw it all away
over something soon forgot
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 9:39 AM UTC
I go outside to escape my self
and the end and the inevitable
and I sit admiring the night sky
until the stars become the scattered
words I’m trying hard to understand
but seem completely unable to.
I look up into that dark blue night
and I wish it was the ocean.
I wish the world was a fading purple
sunset. I wish the world was
the moonstone blue of the sea.
I’m drowning in the night sky instead,
in all this vast intangible vagueness.
There’s no edge, no shore to the sky,
just stars and then stars and then stars.
I want to be on the shore again,
feeling alive, feeling maybe, just maybe
there’s a little hope in the waves that
have always been able to comfort me.
See, the sea is full of lonely moments,
losing moments, shipwrecked moments,
but it is also the place of liminal on the shore
moments, meeting moments, happy, maybe moments.
But here I am, sitting beneath the sky, not the sea.
I came out here to escape yet all I’ve found
is the inevitable in all its dark, vast, uncontainable glory.
I look away because I don’t want to see it.
I look away, because now it’s the end,
I’m not ready to leave.
I gather handfuls of cold to my chest
and take it all back inside with me.
I dream of the ocean. I long for the sea.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
The cold wind touched my skin and my body trembled
As you removed the last piece of my clothing
You also removed my eyeglasses and asked
"Can you see me?"
I slowly nod even everything was a blur
The curve in your lips says that you smiled upon seeing me naked
You started kissing me
And I stand still because it was my first kiss
and I don't know how to respond
Kissing. Deeper. Harder
I found myself craving for more
Faster. Stop. Breath
You asked me to close my eyes
But I didn't (because everything is blur without my eyeglasses)
Instead I put my feet on your waist
Then hugged you tightly
Mainly for support and to make sure I will not fall
Slowly our body collided
It was your trap, a sweet pitfall
Your hands all over me
touching every part of me
You stopped on my *******
and started fondling
one more caress and I totally fall
in your sinful trap
**** Lick. Mash
And I can't make you stop
No, I don't want you to stop
So wrong yet feels so good..
My body starts to shake
As you put your hands in between
Fingers in and out
I'm losing my mind
Fingers in and out
Faster. Breathless
Fingers in and out
Exploring every part of me
Which I don't let anybody see
I'm in ecstasy
Pain and pleasure
never felt this way before
Panting. Wanting
You drop to your knees
and position your head in between
You bury your face
and started to taste
Lick. Lick. Lick
You said I taste like heaven
So I was in heaven
Lick. Lick. Lick
Pain and pleasure
never felt this way before
But you're not yet done
And I don't want you to be done
You asked me again
"Can you see me?"
Again, I nod even you're just a shape in my vision
You lay me down
"wider"
I just stare into vagueness
Then I felt it
You pushed inside me
Deeper.
Pain and pleasure
Pain and pleasure
I'm losing control
With every ****** I can feel you all over me
As you bury yourself inside me
you also touch my heart
In and out. Harder. Deeper
Breathless. Wanting. Moaning
The world is spinning
"Can you see me?"
I finally answered
"No, but it's not important
as long as I feel you near me is enough"
I was staring at the shadow of him as I said the words
It was dark, only heartbeats and ****
I'm sure you touched my heart
But you said it's just my body
that's pain and pleasure, I guess
I thought you touched my heart
but as you said, you just touched my body
*I made love to you, but you just f_cked me
I thought it was love
Pleasure is all you see*
The morning comes
Knowing you won't be beside me
But still I looked around
To make sure that what happened was real
Yes, it is indeed real, you were real
For you left marks
crumpled bed sheet
red marks on my skin
and bloodstains..
I wore my eyeglasses
my vision becomes clear
But no specs can clear what happened
under the moonlight
*Innocence gone
Pain and pleasure
The euphoria of last night..*
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
The karvings of this awe-full fantasy amplifies,
the throbbing of my freezing heart.
The shapelessness of the kloud whispers,
wonderful mysteries in inaudible murmurs.
The blue-orange painted kanvas above.
The silhouette of the mountains that hide,
behind the undaunted smokes that forms.
The opening that the heavens made,
to show the earth its dazzling threshold.
Gradually.
Sensationally.
Approaching the land with unfathomable ardor.
Devout of the seamless tenuous night,
Gangas klangs echoes through the cold.
Lumps of land deprive the moment of silence,
as the people sing to the gods with reverence.
Heareth me, O goddess of the krops!
O god o'er all the mountains come see;
How gracefully she stood before me.
While the pyre gives emphasis to her figure.
*Kurves of the kreseant resembles her smile;
edges of her lips sink.
Beautiful exkavation mark on her left cheek,*
all in perfekt symmetry; perfektion in all she is.
"Saya Suka Awak" I told her.
that very moment:
Sparkling of the stars devoured our eyes.
Sweetest morose partings seeped in voiceless lullabies;
in unison with symphonic notes lulling unsaid goodbyes.
Through the last movement of vagueness the moment subsides.
For the love that profess fades,
with the chilly thin air it travels;
back to the heart of the other.
Oceans apart they were,
yet atop the mountains. . .
love blossomed.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
love you.:)
when deep inside it's
'I'm not sure'
fake electronic love
vague posts of
'this is what I want to tell you!'
yet you has no name.
in person a plastered smile
wearing masks of
'everything's fine'
'no of course it wasn't you'
words hidden
ambiguous
easily retractable
secret
was that post for me?
well then this one is for you
answering vagueness with vagueness
in this fake electronic love
with hearts beating
to nothing but cowardice.
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 12:46 AM UTC
Vagueness encircled
Fragmented aspiration!
Vagueness crafted
Fadeout the dream of living!
Vagueness designed
Slaughter the humanity!
Vagueness contrived
Maneuver division!
Vagueness persuaded
Project masculinity!
Vagueness indorsed
Homicide creation.
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 4:02 PM UTC
When an illusion becomes a reality
The whole idea of existence is shrouded
In the mysterious clues we are given
Unearthed from the remains ancient
Many hypotheses which float around
Mystic lands which once existed
So many exposed to the light of day
Many more still cradled within the layers
Many interpretations, ancient chronicles
Dates back to time immemorial
Many sources and many more tales
The soul of the scripts lost long ago
None will come to know the real sentiments
Mired in the deepest secrets of yesteryear
Historians’ favorite child, philosophers guide
We can only come up with our understanding
Spend a lifetime deciphering between the lines
Many centuries of hidden anecdotes
We can only reconstruct what we decipher
We may not be close to the real meaning
The custodians have whisked away the heart
And soul of the entire episodes
Leaving us between the vagueness
Papyrus holds the words, without the meanings
Not sure of the real feelings and emotions
Maybe a rendezvous with the chroniclers
If we can travel back in time
And enter the ethereal world of these histories
Can reveal the truth and exact sentiments
Till that time, we have to live with our inferences
Maybe we are way off the mark
In a different trajectory, away from the core
An illusion we may have created form our cognizance
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
In the midst of nothingness
Searching through darkness
Embracing loneliness
Comprehending vagueness
Befriending uncertainties
Playing with vulnerabilities
Absorbing obscurities
Appreciating difficulties
Drudging malfunctions
Living with illusions
Addicted to intrusions
Slave of temptations
Colors of dark grey and black fill the world in which I live
No other feeling could possibly be worse than this
Where once was a room filled with laughter & Cheer
Now stands loneliness, emptiness and despair.
Memories of you seem to creep around the corners of my mind
Endless haunting images of your face that won't decline
An overwhelming of emotion that my body can't contain
Fills my soul with unbearable grief, sorrow, and pain
Oh, How I long to hold you in my arms just once more
And tell you that things will be again, as they were before
But, as reality sinks in, I know that will never be
For the choices that I've made in my life have sealed our destiny
No one could ever fathom how wretchedly my heart aches
And how I greatly regret that you've had to pay for my mistakes
If I could go back in time, and change only one wrong that I've done
I'd go back to the Hour, to the second, on the day I lost you.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
I long for what I’ve never known: a word
that captures the foreign feels of speech surging
from my throat, the ways they shake and crack with
fury and failure as I break away
from the safety of silence, in jagged
and fragmented sentences–I’m desperate
to seize meaning, trying words like puzzle
pieces, I’ll force them to fit together
to form the spaces of pieces missing.
My greatest fear is to be incomplete.
And I’m constantly reminded of this
over coffee-talk and shared politics
as I recoil shyly in forced defense
of each vowel, and every consonant
and the myriad of their constructions:
they are stuck behind my eyes. I am left
apologizing for my vagueness and
for the grey shades of embarrassment and
finite language–when a dictionary
is never a long enough read for the
lone, longer walk around the circumference
of my head–or any red eye flight I have
ever caught that takes me from thought to thought:
the moving belts of baggage claim don’t
have to tell me of the luggage I lost.
As possessions were plucked from circuitry
I clung to the emptiness as if it
was mine and took it home as leverage.
I write in circles ’til I’m motion sick.
I write myself into thought-asylums
where silence is another language:
a slow germination of roots lacing
down the bell-curve of my spine.
A foreign tongue, An othered alphabet.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:58 AM UTC