Posted on by solangesuri2015

The Elite

I live in a mental asylum

With shadows for company

So powerful are my shadow-friends

That they’ve erected the walls

Of my asylum

For their existence

 

In its confinement

I yearn for friendship and company

Even if it is of the Unreal

The shadows beckon me to listen

Their amorphous forms speak in booming voices

That echo and resonate.

 

Their thoughts agree with my thoughts

That’s why we are friends…

We jog together in 10000-word dissertations

Or tickle each other with 140-character tweets

And I feel accomplished

That I now have friends in high places…

 

I now speak their slang

And their concerns

Are my concerns

Their outrage is my outrage

Happiness lies in the camaraderie

Between one bubble and another.

 

When you burst my bubble

I stand vacant

Alone in my madness…

And with this painful awareness

That I can’t see, or hear, or feel anyone

Outside of the thick walls

Of my mental asylum.

 

I have been shut in

To be protected from any contact with the breathing…

My walls are thick, impenetrable and safe

My shadow-friends erected them so that they could play

And oh yes, my walls have names

Please meet: Ideology. Fear. Pain. Self-loathing.

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Desire’s Destiny

Within me

So many have lived

and scripted my story

 

Some have stayed

for decades

for years

 

Pined

 

Agonized

 

Washed away

by floods of tears.

 

Some come visiting

a month, a week

and leave soon after

they find their seek

 

Coveted guests

who appear

for a minute or two

Rejuvenate

Refresh and

Renew.

 

A residue of wisdom

on ways to cope

They leave behind

magical wings of hope.

 

My nothingness defined

by their very being

They’ve challenged what I know

of my seeing.

 

They’ve come to me

inhabited my space

They’ve shown their artistry

their canvas- my face.

 

Desires in search

for room, for chest

They’ve come to me

to manifest.

 

It’s in rare moments like these

I stand face to face

Watching in silence

 

My nothingness

 

My space.

 

I know now

I can clearly see

My space is nothing

But desire’s destiny.

 

 

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It’s In The Getting to know

Yes…

I would’ve liked better teacups

But here you are

Nevertheless

Forsaken or gifted

Standing before me every morning

 

And so…

Despite a petulant will

Everyday I grow to love you

And everyday

I get acquainted

With your unexpected beauty

 

Love and Beauty

You’ve taught me

Are not mere affections

 

They are the gifts of our attention

Joys that we receive

Not in our hours of need or merit

But in the generosity of our receptiveness

 

They’re never destinations

But journeys of long, slow acquaintance

Of discovering

And getting to know.

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So much effort

To possess requires so much effort

To enjoy all that there is-

none.

 

To become rich requires so much effort

To be enriched-

none.

 

To solve a problem requires so much effort

To watch its passing-

None.

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Unanswered

You asked me why I ask

So many questions

When the answers are so few

 

What purpose could it serve

Asking so many questions

And will new answers

Stop me from asking

The same old questions?!?!

 

Why can’t I accept

The answers already given (or perhaps hidden)

For centuries…for eons…since eternity…

 

Aren’t willful ignorance

and elusive enlightenment

riding on the same adventure?

 

I don’t know…

 

I guess I find no silence, no repose

In the posers

you call answers

 

For the same twisted reason

 

 

You get so disturbed, so diverted

By the posers

that are my questions.

 

So there we are

All gesture paused

By an exasperated silence

 

Thought defeated, we now just are…

Sitting vis-à-vis

Sailing together, I realize,

In the same clichéd boat

To a destination known only to silent destiny.

 

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An Ode to Softness

A waking blue sky

An invocation to ancient gods on the radio

The trees sway to a soft and gentle breeze outside

And my baby sleeps

Her head nestled and caressed

in the nook between my neck and shoulder

She strings for me this precious chain of moments

With her soft and gentle breath…

In an embrace of re-assuring silence

All of life so readily offers itself

And everything speaks

Softly…

Gently…

Eloquently…

Simply.

 

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Unintended

Pen, book and intention

A haiku seems like a good idea

I need to know even though I know

Is this temporary, fleeting?

How must I apprehend it

This totality in existence?

How do I classify it

For the sake of memory?

‘Contemplation?’

‘Boredom?’

‘Living out my purpose?’

‘Existence?’

‘Being?’

‘Becoming?’

‘….none of the above…?’

 

And now I know

Acceptance is active and creative

And now I am

Excited, happy, alive!

Free of all lofty intention…

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The Free and the Fugitive

I sat still in my car

Incapacitated by the traffic jam

Unable  to inch forward

My eyes moved up…

I saw the metro crawl…

Above it, a plane flew past

In an open sky

My mind travelled

I visited a childhood memory…

And then a book shop in California…

And then to a time when Kiara would be vaguely older…

And then…

” Door na ja-o… Door na ja-o… (don’t go far away from me, don’t go far away from me…)”

My traveling mind was arrested by this voice crooning on my car stereo

I paused…

Cut short my mental journey through time

And listened out of a sense of obligation

(after all, I had turned on the car stereo to listen to music…)

I brought my mind back to where I was in the traffic jam

With the metro crawling above

And yet another airplane flying above in a vast open sky.

 

In that moment I knew

My mind was vaster

than the vast open sky.

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Lost Property

How dear is my present to me!

Even as it stands imperfect

And flawed

 

I know it. It’s familiar.

I’m drawn to it because it so effortlessly

Becomes mine

 

My present is the culmination

Of the hours, days and years I’ve devoted to

Become me.

 

If I lose it, I will lose all the vanities

That I had with great complexity interwoven with

My being

 

I will stand a ridiculous lie unto myself!

 

My heart will weep not so much

For the loss of people, places, property

Or poetry

 

But for standing disrobed and diminished

Before all that I dressed up

And decorated.

 

The present is rich in the meanings of thoughts

Whose enslavement I have come

To enjoy.

 

Who am I without them?

WHERE am I without them? They’re all

I’ve known.

 

My tormentors have been my only love…

 

And even though I know

That life is a habitually

Late messiah

 

A sleeping savior in a dream state

I can see now that I’m nothing more than

Its dream.

 

Posted on by solangesuri2015

It’s Plain and Simple

Yes…

I would’ve liked better teacups

But here you are

Nevertheless

Forsaken or gifted

Standing before me every morning

 

And so…

Despite a petulant will

Everyday I grow to love you

And everyday

I get acquainted

With your unexpected beauty

 

Love and Beauty

You’ve taught me

Are not mere affections

 

They are the gifts of our attention

Joys that we receive

Not in our hours of need or merit

But in the generosity of our receptiveness

 

They’re never destinations

But journeys of long, slow acquaintance

Of discovering

And getting to know.