My lack

I went out to smell the roses
And came back with their
fragrance on my lips.
Came back somewhere inside,
This time brazenly so.

It is harder to come back
When you haven't gone away.
I went today not far from home
While trying home to come
And thought I'd linger here a while
Both places near and far.

You came to mind.
And you. And you.
I pressed your image to my
cheek
And thought of love just like
I did before.
This time
Enamored with myself don't
want to me no more.
You are my lack and all the
things I do not own myself,
So do I really love you as you are?

A sadist conversation

'Come again,
Be kind,
Be rude,
Be angry
Or be bored,
But be there.

Come naked,
Come blind
Or at least blindfolded.
Do come with all your senses
Untouched;
It might help our conversation along.'

I say.

'Don't be suspicious,
Nothing is hiding under the heavy curtains of my mind
And If I 'm thoughtful
Do not place your blue assumptions on my table.
If you do, I will not be considering them.'

You say.

'I might come down as selfish,
But I need...do I need to hurt you?
I simply won't
Allow destructive silence of the wistful kind
To fill my glass half full.'

'You are absurd
I feel you are absurd,
erratically and brazenly
stoning my concrete wall.
Give up your hope
You won't be coming in.
And that is how I feel.'

'But that is not a feeling,
I am enraged.
There, a feeling.
Please let me come on top
Of all of this
So I can be the better one,
The better of the two.

Hold on, hold out,
Be patient and be kind,
I need to feel my soul...
It's chilly there and cold.'

In this artwork Kingstown Harbour
Can be seen in the background.
So your boat is safe.
Just pull it closer to our shore
Once more.

Safe shore of all our limitations;
Why would you want to risk so much?
Shaking the boat was dangerous
To pull from under us
Much of the common ground
We stand.

Integrity, you tell me,
Has got the better of you.
Go on, you be integrous,
Have not an expectation
That I will follow suit.
For my one has me ridiculed.
I'm holding tight
To sadism
For now.

A woman's point of view

I told you every pain I have
And yet I felt no better,
For every pain you heard has
hurt
And then you hurt me back
tenfold.

I looked for comfort in your arms
Yet all I felt was arms of steel
and I don't mean strong;
Free flowing through your veins
was not
Warm loving that I craved.

Infused with love were not
And empty your embraces were
instead.

My lips that yearned for kisses
Uttered a thousand hurtful words
To season our meeting
Of the minds
with spiteful fiery passion
Of the unpleasant kind.

For if our lonely hearts across
from one another
Were to sit,
And if they were to meet,
Oh but then for me to write of all
such things
Would there be little or no need.

Help coming our way

Sometimes help coming our way
Is not meant to be supportive
But to cut through all the layers
Of personas and game-players,
Like a lover's heavy truth
Reaching home inside of you,
Making ocean's ripples smooth
To better reflect the sky
And a human's inner eye.

Sometimes that help
Comes disguised,
As a Satan or a Christ,
As a shadow or a dove
Or a blunder made on purpose.

Sometimes help
Comes as a weed
In rich soil planted deep.
Tread around it
with great care
As it makes you more aware.

The longer path

 

For me I heard

The longer path

might heal the wounds

No shortcut ever could.

I breathe and break

But this time not my spirit.

And inch by inch approach—

I breach the walls

To hold a torch

And bring some light

Inside,

To clear the inner plight.

I break the walls

To try and get outside

A soul too scared to speak

Too scared to walk

for it might trip

Over the giant leap

It took.

Expanding the narrow

 And the minute I stood still,

I heard voices from within,

In the silence they start talking

No words though, but only echoes.

The same minute I stood still

I saw paintings from within

In the silence they take shape

Depicting decluttered landscape.

A minute more and I could smell

The ripened coffee beans

Of a plantation far away

Of soil warm as well as brown

Transformed, and roasted, liquefied

And poured into my ancient cuppa,

coffee induced, the gutsy sparkle.

Now I’m right here in my body

Cosy and warm

Rooted and heavy

Living my life

Within my home

Within.

Hearing my breath

Breathing itself all the way down

to my bones,

all the way down,

to my pelvis

So that, revived, to spread myself

and stretch my inner limbs,

Expand in all the once unaired crannies

of whatever I am made of.

Go on, my heart

Sometimes little or no reason
Do I need igniting fires
And unleashing them on you
And You
And really any stranger
Whose karma crosses paths
with mine
In need of burning.

And it's the pain of thinking
Way too much
Of aging and of dying
And all the things Absurd
And frightening alone.
A subject much too vast
Which too much space is taking
Inhabiting my heart.

My poor heart.
This tenant of my body
And house to all my feelings
Has not a single Thought.
It lives. And lives. And soars
And then One day
Exists no more.
It beats no longer in my
body
But in the vastness of the
sky
Celestially preoccupied.

No more it beats
Or is contained,
constricted, soft or tender
Or hardened by my slow
unfolding burdens
of the past.

It makes you think, you know.
But now I'd rather feel,
Not missing any beat.
Go on, my heart.
You steal the show.