we are intrepid dreamers
lost in the rhythm of this life.
we’ve lost belief,
but once we believed,
though never always,
and we could have been right.
but we weren’t.
i thought i’d do something different and write a “sunday 160“.
here’s to the future.
and to understanding.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged always, are, been, belief, believed, but, could, different, dreamers, future, have, here, intepid, life, lost, never, once, poem, poems, poetry, rhythm, right, something, sunday 160, this, though, understand, understanding, we, weren't
to know fear is to have never tasted it, that bitter acrid taste of rotting apples mixed with strong perfume. there is no knowing, only inhalation and dizziness before the lights go on. then, fear subsides.
the aftertaste remains. cologne is rotting. rotting all the same.
and swallowing the cider bile i stop. and start. i stop and start. and i remember that this was rhythm beaten out for me and Y. aeons ago, i would have told him this was our rhythm, that it was made for us. really, the rhythm is mine alone.
it is the heartbeat of a rabbit caught running in circles, breaking out of a different hole every time. only i have no space of time and who knows if i’m late?
there is no knowing here, only white roses being painted red. but i need no paint, truth always comes out in the end.
and this fear reigns over love. it transcends the borders of us and reproduces in our creations. why is that, will you tell me?
it must be us, the charcoal darkening the paper.
it must be orange juice spilt on a linen cloth. or coffee. coffee on those tiles.
still, it’s so nice to be able taste fear once in a million words, wouldn’t you say?
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged able, acrid, aeons, aftertaste, ago, all, alone, always, apples, be, beaten, before, being, bile, bitter, borders, breaking, but, caught, charcoal, cider, circles, cloth, coffee, cologne, comes, creations, darkening, different, dizziness, end, every, fear, for, go, have, heartbeat, here, him, hole, inhalation, it, juice, know, knowing, knows, late, lights, linen, love, made, me, million, mine, mix, mixed, must, need, never, nice, no, on, once, only, orange, our, out, over, paint, painted, paper, perfume, prose, rabbit, really, red, reigns, remains, remember, reproduces, rhythm, roses, rotting, running, same, say, space, spilt, start, still, stop, strong, subsides, swallow, taste, tell, that, the, then, this, those, tiles, time, to, told, transcend, truth, us, was, white, why, will, words, would, y, you
do you reckon we could make snow angels without snow? we could scrape ourselves against the ground, delirium of cold seeping through our pores. then, maybe then, our bodies would scrape away the frost from the pavement without drawing blood. maybe the ice will shatter somewhere inside of us. i’m cold tonight and nothing will warm me.
more than anything, i’d like for the sunset to come around again.
more violent this time, more primitive, innate; heat firing my synapses all at once with broken impulses. and i want it to smell of freshly brewed coffee in a little cafe on a little hidden street nobody knows but stumbles onto by chance. we must always roll the die of life. it’s in the eyes. always in the eyes.
yesterday i would have told you it never comes around, but silence came. and now i know true silence is that which lies in the inevitability of it being broken any moment now. suppose it’s like cutting a cake. don’t ask me why.
and when it comes around you can see it lurking like a shadow in the eyes. a vapid corner of pitch black dark. but we are burning embers in the shadows of the light.
come with me: it will be alright.
i have decided that i will be cold tonight.
but i will try to warm you up.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged again, against, all, alright, always, angels, any, anything, are, around, ask, at, away, being, black, blood, bodies, brewed, broken, burning, by, cafe, cake, came, chance, coffee, cold, come, comes, corner, could, cutting, dark, decided, delirium, dice, die, do, don't, drawing, embers, eyes, firing, freshly, frost, ground, heat, hidden, ice, impulses, inevitablity, innate, inside, it, know, knows, lies, life, light, like, little, lurking, make, maybe, me, moment, more, must, my, never, nobody, nothing, now, of, once, onto, our, pavement, pitch, pores, primitive, reckon, roll, scrape, see, seeping, shadow, shadows, shatter, silence, smell, snow, somewhere, street, stumbles, sunset, suppose, synapses, than, the, this, through, time, told, tonight, true, try, up, us, vapid, violent, want, warm, we, when, which, why, will, with, without, would, yesterday, you
we, too, had gotten it all wrong more than once in our lives. we ran from desire instead of running towards it. disbelieved what mathematical induction could not prove, but what remains quite true: every pain, in every measure, can be counter-balanced by pleasure.
and i, the jagged tremor in your heart, the slight pause in your groan, am weak, for how many times i have surrendered to the illusion of lust?
but i shall find an excuse worth loving, a sentence worth of praise.
i am a woman.
no, a girl.
but more than that, i cannot feel complete unless i am a pool, half-full, passion rising to the surface, black oil floating on translucent water.
my heart is a pool collecting rivulets of desire in its basin, each drop – the sacred elixir of life. yes, i’ve changed. i used to say why be a man’s wife if you can be his mistress and now i’d rather say nothing at all.
now, i love you and you alone, but –
always a but-
i need the scarlet light to fall upon my form, if only to show off the violent carmine of my bullfighter’s cape.
my whole life is contained in the balance of virginal white and the shade of moonlight casting its fragile rays on lovers in the night. those colours merge to form my blood.
scarlet like the summer bloom of red roses, half-concealed by the shadows of rising sun.
and as i yearn for the chains of desire, wrap threads of red silk around me, dream me up sordid dreams.
i love you as you are, even if sometimes that’s not how it seems.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged all, alone, always, and, are, around, balance, basin, be, black, blood, bloom, bullfighter, but, cannot, cape, carmine, cast, chains, changed, collect, colours, complete, conceal, contained, could, counter, desire, disbelieved, dream, dreams, drop, each, elixir, even, every, excuse, fall, feel, find, float, form, fragile, full, girl, gotten, groan, had, half, heart, how, illusion, induction, instead, jagged, life, light, lives, love, lovers, loving, lust, man, many, mathematical, me, measure, merge, mistress, moonlight, more, night, no, not, nothing, now, oil, once, only, our, pain, passion, pause, pleasure, pool, praise, prose, prove, quite, ran, rather, rays, red, remains, rise, rising, rivulets, roses, sacred, say, scarlet, seems, sentence, shade, shadow, shall, show, silk, slight, sometimes, sordid, summer, sun, surface, surrender, than, that, those, threads, times, too, towards, translucent, tremor, true, unless, upon, used, violent, virginal, water, we, weak, what, white, whole, why, wife, woman, worth, wrap, wrong, yearn, yes, you
once this was my safe haven.
that changed, like everything changes, life swirling us all about in a glass of rosé or champagne, or cheap white wine, if you’d rather.
and i notice that i’ve become agreeable, but no more than that. i’m still all here, all me.
and then on tuesday the rainbow of my life seemed to have been broken up into the component colours and merged together, forming black.
is black a colour? i don’t know. all i know is, i couldn’t possibly write on tuesday or wednesday. or yesterday even. but with time comes acceptance. so here i am now, accepting my failed anonymity.
Y has read my diary, this. every word, or most, violated with his eyes.
and i asked him not to.
i asked everyone close to me not to read it. everyone complied. but him.
i didn’t send a link. i didn’t tell him the name i assumed or the posts i’ve written. i merely read him a poem.
the last poem i had written here, trace of us.
i didn’t read it so he would find me. i never thought he would.
i read it because i felt like i needed to read it to someone and you wasn’t here. i read it because it was about him.
next thing i know, or rather remember, someone, and it could have been anyone but something tells me it was him, typed trace and put the cork essence of us blog into google.
he found me.
he was the only person i read that poem to. the only one. and it can’t have possibly been anyone else.
the search was done less than an hour after i read him the poem.
and though i didn’t start the blog for him or X or you even, i thought of deleting it or not writing any more.
but in the end, i haven’t started this blog for him so what if he reads it?
i haven’t started this blog for him and he won’t be the reason i end it.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged about, acceptance, after, agreeable, all, anonymity, anyone, asked, assumed, become, been, black, blog, break, champagne, changed, changes, cheap, close, colour, colours, comply, component, cork, could, delete, diary, don't, done, else, end, essence, even, every, everyone, everything, eyes, failed, form, found, from, glass, google, has, have, haven, here, him, his, hour, into, it, know, last, less, life, like, link, me, merge, more, most, my, name, never, next, not, notice, of, once, one, only, or, person, poem, possibly, posts, put, rainbow, rather, read, reads, remember, rose, search, seem, send, someone, something, start, still, swirl, tell, that, then, thing, this, this safe, time, together, trace, tuesday, typed, us, violted, wednesday, white, wine, word, would, write, writing, written, x, y, yesterday, you