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Poetry to Share

Poetry to Share

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Published by Yoddha Victorious

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Published by: Yoddha Victorious on Jul 17, 2011
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07/17/2011

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Fingers tracing Merlot rimmedwith cherry wine nail lacquer and
 
too-big earrings that framed a faceof tireless searching, worn ambition,over-extended arms.Arms reaching out to who now-the question penetrated her deepestconsciousness with a worrying ache,relentless and insincere.Dim lights shadowing crevices of youth now vanished andirretrievable.Still reaching, she chuckled quietlyin the golden particle lightof her cozy recollection,clutching the glass stem as if it could bring her back.---------------------------------------That distant purple glowfaint on the curling edges of the daya streaming black snakewet with liquid concrete and strewnwith the smallest, drowning yellow leaves.The sad grey trees outside my windowwhisper soft echoes to the howling moonThe breeze of autumn warms like amberon the tip of a honey-drenched spoon.--------------------------------------crashing waves turn white from blue,crunched and crisp the morning sangof sugar sand and turquoise water; jadedrefuse of a winter infuriated.the streets ahead are paved with ocean,ghastly white like solemn snow flowersfrozen and trapped in a glistening glass jar.that face reflects star-strewn summer nightsfrom the darkest lake's perfect reflection.-----------------------------------------
 
in a yellow-dust attic in thebroom closet mansionof my mindlies a metal chesthard and cold withthe etches of previous incarnationsscratch marks and blemishesfrom the harassment of past affairs-and yet it lies fully opena still pond from early dusk'smountain streamrippling with every passing insects'beating wingswrithing in the emission of its ownceaseless pining.
 
----------------------------------------------------------------------The sun shines brightly on a freshly formed patch of dirt, slowing tires, irreversible havoc on a dust top side stream alley.Spinning wheels show gold and red in the glow of tilted light. Our friends are silent, our friends are tame, our friends arenot the same as us. We forget in time that it's all a bowl of spaghetti- a simple mash up of basic flavors, a hint of exoticherbs, but mostly just thick, dull substance. It's not a race, just wait while water boils and then you're done. Patchworkcompass pointing always north, until you get there and what is next. It is ice and plastic and dim lighting.One step after another, leading us forward but really just far from where we were.Apologies for my disgust, it seems the tides have gotten the better of me. But when the sun goes down and moon goesup and nothing is left but the darkness of our solitude, the blight of our purposelessness, it is hard to ignore theimpending nothingness that awaits.Gib jab, blib blab, what does nothingness matter? This is what we have to experience. This is what we have to live. Thisis our only chance. Why argue, why stop to think, why not just run full tilt towards the wall if the wall is what we've beengiven?There is beauty to be seen in frozen tundra. I know that, I still see that. There is perfection in a cold October day, walkingbriskly with hands tight in pockets, crushing blood red leaves beneath boots. Fireflies still scatter on the wind, mockingus to come and take a chance. We don't have to live in one world or the other. The isolated nature dwelling child (withfriends in imagination) or the isolated urban dwelling adult (with friends in appearance). These can both be part of onewhole. It is crucial to me that they be compatible, because I cannot have one or the other. Life would not be sustainablewithout imagination and animal shapes in the clouds, just as it would not be sustainable without jobs and creaturecomforts.It's burning now, the chance to see clearly, and yet the incapability to do so. That would entail a restructuring of theconscious mind. The subconscious already knows what it needs, what it would chose to see. But the conscious, adult,human mind is racked with restrictions, guidelines, masked figures we must follow. How can two beings reside in onebody? In reality, there are so many beings, more than I can list. Child, adult, subconscious, conscious, depression,happiness, panic, calm, night, day, love, hate, excitement, nonchalance, arrogance, self-doubt, music, math, machine,
 
paint, clouds, earth, water, fire.... The endless possibility of countless words and feelings bubbling beneath the surface,ready and waiting to release themselves in eternal combination, be they in strife or harmony. The subconscious doesn'tcare if it's expression makes sense, if one combination proves disharmonious- it just wants to be released- it just wantsto TRY.A chance is all we need and that is what we can have. And not just one, but as many as we can rightfully take before ourtime expires.Or until we give up.Which is basically willful expiration. Why not then live a million lives in just one day?That way when the final day eventually does come, we will have lived deeper and greater; a million times a million in thespan of a hundred.------------------------------------She chases her shadowacross wadded sheets.The whole room washed in blue,even my mind-in your absence.Wherever she lands,she pretends she was meant to be.-------------------------------------Decomposed and unfocused. A scattered blathering mess of incomprehensible nonsense.Too analytical, less feeling. Allwe can see is what we feel, so we immediately try to understand it. Feeling seems like something that can (and should)be bypassed, rather than something that should be experienced and left to its own whim- let it stay a mysteriouscreature with great, dark power. What does analysis do but soil all that is good?Why is it that certain atmospheres are more conducive to creativity? If creativity is truly in our heads, why wouldphysical environment be a determining factor in its' ability to flourish? Because nothing is purely from our minds.Our minds are influenced by all that we see, the real and unreal. But we must see the real in order to see the unreal, andin this comparison (which produces one occurrence as unreal), reality must be analyzed and processed in such a waythat it filters the mind upside-down....But isn't reality always upside-down? We all see different things. A slinky, a coil, a circle, shiny, amusing, annoying... Inthis vein of thinking, every thought, real and unreal, would have the potential of being unique. If each individual craftshis own interpretation of things based on unique experience, doesn't that mean every persons' filter is entirelyconstructed by unique occurrences? And then wouldn't our minds produce entirely unique thoughts?That's the rub of it. Two people may have very different experiences and interpretations and still arrive at the samethoughts.Isn't that truth? Isn't "truth" universally accepted concepts of how to interpret reality? How to properly construct realitybased on commonly perceived insights?

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