Wordle #361

I am bound to certain spaces
to the cracks, to the red tinged
and unadorned pages that cry out
when I am otherwise nameless.
I am in love with the notion of rebellion,
with the bitter taste of disappointment.
Can words undue eons of conditioning?
–
The darkness is strapping
like a valiant, young lover.
I take him into me as if I were
a cup waiting to be filled.
He is all calligraphy
and forbidden knowledge.
He taps into me
with his great piercing root
and suddenly nothing is certain.
–
for
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2018/07/22/wordle-361/

Poetry Prompt #13 Risky Business

Within this tempest I am vast,

Coiled within the planes

Of my primordial awareness.

I am irrevocably myself,

Beyond the mirrors of place and time

I am eternal, enigmatic in obfuscation.

A universe, the universe I belong

That much is afforded my existence.

The body is only a vehicle

And the earth likewise.

I spin lopsided circles in a puddle

Of my own specificity.

–

When I close my eyes I see the stars

Of what I might have been.

When I close my eyes I see the stars

Of what I still am despite my boundaries.

When I draw all the breaths afforded me

I shall again be beyond definition.

The risk undertaken by all,

With or without consent,

Comes in shrinking one’s immensity.

For we are, each of us, important.

–

Authority cannot be just,

That goes without saying,

And even if it were possible

I have a heart that wants

Desperately to get out.

Some of us are born

With a stroke of mischief,

Some of us only breathe.

The wind is at my back

And I am stooped like a buzzard

Over a foreign architecture.

I choose to love and that is

Hardly a choice at all.

To Live

By: Ladesh

I fan my fingers willfully

Across my chest

I know that violence

Is not a surrogate for love

But I’ve spent my whole life

In defense of freedom

*

Some people are born

An accessory to war

Others are born

To bare fruit

*

You are the harvest Goddess

I watch you toil and sow

My expression one

Of awe and envy

*

I’d trade anything

For your white robes

For the spotless bastions

Of a blessed youth

*

My arms are harnessed

In coarse brown sleeves

Amidst heart fragments

And razor-blade smiles

*

I want to live and in living be

Priceless

Blood is a paradox

Contested but essential

To the machine

*

I don’t regret it,

Being born

Despite the cruelty

That you concede

I’ve outgrown that life

That limp-fisted agony

Dusk no longer

Accelerates my fears

I am priceless

However flawed

*

I saw my new therapist the other day. I answered questions about my childhood without crying but when I talked about my current struggles with worth I just started balling. I was so taken off guard I actually looked aroud to see where the noise was coming from. Sorry for the dark topic on Christmas but the therapy session left impressions.

Inversion

I used to walk

Until dawn surrendered

Adroitly to dusk

My terminal tethered

To the horizon

To a land

Primitive with heat

And lascivious wires

*

I sought the nostrum

Of a more compelling

Illusion

My life being

Wholly inconceivable

I welcomed

Asphalt flowers into

My soiled heart

For is it not tenacity

That propagates myth

To chase the sun

Whatever the expense

*

I used to wear a forgery

Of my asperous smile

Each scar accented

From a pretentious palate

Each virtue smeared

Haphazardly

Into the lower lashes

Like the blight

Of an impious contagion

Uncompromising

I grew fearfully

With a predisposition

To inversion

=

This is a deeply personal and traumatic piece I am not certain it makes sense outside of my own head. As a child I would walk until my shoes filled with blood, it was my way of escaping a horrible home life.

Polarity Installment #4

Night came slowly in the assumption of cloaks. He managed to brood through dinner unimpeded. Before bed he stopped his father in the hallway and asked his question again. What difference would the audience make? What difference could the answer make when his course was irrefutable? “How do you do it The same thing day after day?” The man stood in silence turning his son’s words over as if his tongue were a lathe. “No matter how challenging the day in the end I have my family to come home too…there is no greater reward…besides most days I love my job…” There was something comforting about the heavy callused hand on his shoulder. “That’s all I wanted to know…Good night….” The youth said proffering up a smile, which was as much for his own sake as his fathers.

*

He didn’t dare dream but waited impatiently for the hours to pass. His brother slept soundlessly facing the door. Shafts of moonlight divided the darkness but did not disperse the shadows that resided now in his heart. Why did he struggle with such obvious questions? His life had been so simple as a child. Every action served the highest purpose. Now suddenly that same life seemed a tourniquet. His family held him together, held him too tightly perhaps.

*

Though she had cited the location in the map he was still surprised to find her standing in his neighbor’s front yard. When she spotted him she waved him over conspiratorially and there they stood hunkered over by a row of meticulous hedges. “Why did you come here” The woman asked her tone bordering on accusatory. Had she forgotten? Had he mistaken her bravado as invitation? “Because you invited me…” He said. “Too obvious…why did you really come here?” She asked tapping his chest in expectation of a depth he was not certain he possessed. “Instinct…” He confessed without elaboration. “You acted on a foreign impulse…not on rules or rationale…but in response to an internal summons…” She elaborated and he, faced with her conviction, could only nod in agreement.

*

“I know behind that stoic facade that you suffer…you have no outlet…no identity outside of the hive…you want for more but don’t have the experience to identify your desires…” She went on impervious to his reactions, to his agony. “Wouldn’t you rather write your own book? Then live as if embalmed?” She asked eyes on him as if his words now meant everything to her. “Yes…” He spoke the words in a whisper but she heard them as a declaration. “Do you know anyone that is truly happy? Truly free?” She asked. “My parents are usually happy….” She blinked owlishly in surprise before breaking out inappropriately into laughter. “It’s an act…all of this is fake…do you not feel the chains about your wrists…” She said picking up his hands and dropping them as if the weight of his arms were the reason for an earthbound existence.

*

“The true nature of the universe is chaos…rules are for machines…indulge yourself…live while you can because just like that it’s over…” She snapped her fingers to emphasize brevity. “I think it’s better if I just show you the alternative…then you can decide for yourself…” She said fishing a cosmetic case from her purse. Opening the compact she directed the mirror to the greenery before snapping it abruptly closed. The hedge took on an eerie electrical glow and the youth could do nothing but stare in awe. Here lies the rabbit hole. Here departs sanity. “Now is your chance to be a hero…” She said offering the youth a delicate hand. Her words were exciting and he couldn’t help but be charmed by them. Taking her hand in his strong one, he knew the gentleness of meticulous detail and though he swallowed her wholly he did not crush her.

Polarity Installement #2

Inquiry would not have revealed him for even he did not know by what compulsion he entered the cafe. He was expected to return home promptly after school and yet he felt that to return would be a betrayal. But to whom? Surely not his mother and siblings who waited to welcome him as they always did and always would so long as he lived alongside them. Entering the cafe he found it subdued and wholesome. There were only a few costumers and none in his age group which was itself a testament to his breech in contract. If he left now his family would not be the least vexed by his absence for he could still return on time. He would tell them what he’d done, his mother would find it curious perhaps but she would not punish him.

*

He did not leave. Instead he approached the bar, contemplating the menu, which was through the film of his guilt wholly unappetizing. He ordered a smoothie. All produce was locally grown and organic. The concoction, no matter how elaborate, would arrive without added sugar in a sensibly portioned container.  His was a world that did not cater gluttony, so this simple selfish act was itself a form of indulgence. The smoothie he received was mostly orange so he surmised that he’d ordered something predominately carrot, which was just as well because he doubted he would taste it.

*

“My aren’t you rebellious….” The teenager jumped nearly sloshing out the contents of his cautiously sipped beverage. Turning in the direction of the voice he was surprised to find the woman seated in the barstool beside him. How could he have missed her? Her clothes were form-fitting, suggestive, and he thought impractical. She smelled of lavender and intrigue. Her features were accented expertly with color, her skin ageless, her lips insufferably red, eyes a treacherous shade of blue. Her golden hair was nearly waist length and it fell in loose voluptuous waves about her slender shoulders and back. He had never seen a woman so beautiful and his face filled up instantaneously with color.

*

“Are you waiting for someone….a girl perhaps?” The woman asked stirring her strawberry smoothie absently. “No…I’m not waiting for anyone….actually I am expected elsewhere….” He responded staring into the impenetrable orange of his glass. Although he attended a coed school his interactions with the opposite sex were surprisingly few. By prevailing standards he was too young to date and in any case he was so preoccupied that he could scarcely find the time to fantasize. “Then you must have come here for me….” The woman commented taking a sip. “Were you expecting me?” He inquired turning now to look at the disconcertingly smiling visage. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked it how could a stranger expect him? “Ours is a private matter….we will meet again….tonight…” She said fishing in her purse for a sheet of folded paper, which she promptly offered him. “Do you know the location?” She asked as he studied the map. “Yes it’s my neighbor’s house…” He answered quizzically, she most definitely did not live next door to him. “To think you’ve been so close…” She giggled standing up and smoothing out her provocatively short skirt. “I trust you will have no trouble then…12 pm and don’t be a second late…”

Polarity (story/dream)

The chains most binding are the chains that ignorance renders unseen. He’d never tasted youth though within his eremitic ribs it flourished. He knew himself to be enslaved, but did not feel superior in the knowing, for he understood likewise the rationale. He was the eldest son, template for those who stumbled heroically beneath him. He shouldered the bulk of the chores and a full class load besides. There was no time for amusement and with so little diversion afforded he could deduce no rebellion. His greatest pleasure was to serve but no matter how scrupulous his attack, each day repeated just as before. If life was unfair then it was a punishment dulled out equally amongst his peers. There was no cause then for resentment, though at times, he wished himself a child or conversely an adult, anything to escape the inequality of his current role.

*

At times he even felt himself a machine. Precise, ceaseless, nondescript who could discern him from any of the other gears? He longed only to express himself but what in his life was worthy of inspiration? In every respect he was average. Had he been deviant he could have exploited his madness through art or theater. Had he been superior his opportunities were even greater. Only an efficient execution could garner the time needed to enjoy reward. His duties crowded out all possibility. He dreamed just as he lived, there was no reprieve.

=

This is a story about a dream I had this is only the first part not sure if I will complete it

Hello Friend, Well Met

My brain slides metaphorically to the right

I brush stardust from knee high boots

The residue of prophesied macrocosms

I am the Sandman’s illegitimate daughter

I dream defiantly even upon waking

The sun cannot outshine my imagination

I navigate exclusively by latitude

North or South. High or Low

I am only horizontal when lying down

*

I want to make doors to other dimensions

I want to be completely improbable

Like a magician without the spectacle

Drama is better when tectonic

In regards to life I find gratitude

More accordant with enlightenment

I conspire with madness to heighten potential.

I want to scribble without ingratiating margins

In protest of a fascist rhetoric

I want to “do” and not “dither”

To look smiling into the mirror and say

Hello friend, well met

Undecided

I have floundered

Between extremes

Unable to identify

The herald

Of my departure

To whom or what

Do I bestow

This wreckage?

For what reason

Do I seek

The truth

In contradiction?

When contradictions

By their nature

Incite rebellion

How will I

In searching

Find peace?

*

For the static

I cannot hear the melody

That contests within

I know not to which

North to align

My vagarious limbs

I am lost

The withering light

Of an intermittent satellite

Finds no synapse

Through which to illumine

And voice alarm.

I fear the absolution

Of Nirvana

*

I write as if each syllable

Were a dirge

If not my hands

Than let my words

Grow callused and formidable

Let my poems

Metaphoric and fragile

Rise up from the ash

Of a repercussion wisdom