I remembered where I got it wrong

This. 

I forgot presence

silence spoke and words were thrown ahead of me and

silence screamed 

it covered my ears

I heard another echo from beyond saying

this is what a poem should sound like

telling my toes where to step

I followed

placing feet over assumed footprint

trying to imitate what does and does not exist

no. that was not truth

there was nothing genuine there

 

Borges said ‘infinity was the number of the grains of sand’

I agree

and think about how this world as a whole

broken apart, can become infinity

and how many pieces make

a whole

how many shattered atoms of glitter

in dust

how many stars blink from the sky

how many skies sink from the universe

how many universes collide behind this one

how many 

but every separate piece is part of

each membrane an illusion

from this self-contained soul apparently 

framed apparently reading the world like

an other

an other

an other

but the world one day away from outer space

can be contained in a fist

and so I say to that

this world is a trick; it barely exists. 

 

Icarus

Em, A7,C, G

once there was whole there was happy

and control

like a newborn still complete

with a passion and

concrete

like a dream all fulfilled

and a presence and

two feet

on the ground and the laughter and the

love all around

and the faces always kind

and a blind to cruelty

and all words they had

meaning defined like in a

movie

and we danced in the unbroken trance of our lives

making shapes out of shadows

finding courage in knives

(skip notes, play harsh, and make ‘minor’ the tune from here)

then it fell then it shattered

and it smashed to smithereens

from a whole it was altered into

a million pieces

no control

small as dust they got carried

in a wind

losing trust they got lost

they were broken and unwinged

from the sun melted feathers but the fall was not

fatal

on the water that was blue yes the damage

collateral

as it  drowned in forever

watched the world fall apart

vision comprimised

from the marks  on its broken eyes

Icarus- but they never told your whole story…

How they took you from the water and

They made you swallow pills

And they told you to be normal because

Being different kills and

They made you wear shoes and

They taught you how to walk

Though the ground burnt your feet and

You didnt know how to talk

with the words

That they used and the meanings they

meant

And the things that they valued and

the way that they

spent

All their lives making matters out of miniscule things

like money and all its material

brings

(to be continued…)

 

Note: this is a take on the icarus story and depression. kind of a journey, Icarus is the every human and  life is a journey, we live with wings in our egos that take us too close to the sun sometimes, and when we fall we drown in a broken sense of confidence. The trick is learning to walk on water.

New

like Command A and delete

or friends that forgot

hate that lingers like

a soul slayed by the blade of

its own thought

so when it tried to talk

it spoke in a million voices

torn apart they all tried to leave

but they struggled with an anger

at themselves and then faced me

pointing fingers saying I was the one

who got it wrong and rude and when

you were the one who chose to see

it that way and

you know what they say

one finger points there and its

another three your way

now its 2 months and 

feels like a million celebrations later

and I hope that its been good for you

running in your own circles to form your

own gravity within your own world

a world that I can’t see

– and thats okay

we’ve been carrying on our own way

its all new here five minutes ago this was a 

new page

eight years each a great year and

another soon to be

This is not a resolution or regret

its just a rant because -i remembered

and now its done- 

I feel free

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

surgeon

I want to breathe

I want to feel how every atom of oxygen 

that clings unto the air fills my lungs and dissolves

into energy and life 

I want to know why I would need that oxygen

not from textbook but from intuition

I want to know

what makes the universe different from

wallpaper or television

if stars painting or projected on a screen

make it lesser than the real star

when the real star in essence

is inexistant

and how two-dimensional 

units can truly translate

evolve

into

three-dimensional messages

without anything being lost

-there must be something lost

surely?

like a skin graft procedure we must

pick at facts to form our truths like a

surgeon

 

 

 

remember

the fragility of a day

of a mind of a life of a

breath of a single

beat

of a heart of

four 

chambers

changed pressure

oxygen

energy

and nourishment

remember the seeds

in the soil and the stars

in the sky

the breeze that gets old

and the 

changing of tides

the moon’s gravity

knowing wisdom from heights

wait for peace as it nears

like sand grains in a wind

and it settles like a stillness of stone

it settles like a stillness of stone

 

 

 

fever ache

Like a burning stomach and

joints that scream when they move

in sounds that echo to and from my body

like eyes that hurt to blink and

feet that weep when they touch the ground

like the pillow that aches my neck and

the sweat that clings to my face like

these fingertips that hurt to type

and the heat emanating from my breath

that makes me feel stuck in a bubble

of warmness interrupted by a breeze of winter cruelty

that makes me turn to goosebump-turkey and a shiver

that makes me feel I’ll never be warm again

and then again

and again

I’m sick

so all I do is sleep in aches and dream of death

being shot in the wrist and carved on my face

and feeling pain when asleep or awake

I’m sick’

and pain is an emotion

I’d best to keep things in perspective and

stop feeling.

every step

cupboards full of childhood

baskets full of teddybears and boxes full of stickers

old tshirts since I was ten that fit

a little differently now

and no wonder. No wonder there is no space for adulthood left

when I’m holding onto..what? nothing that I need. 

just to ‘remember’ a time that is long gone. 

and a thought passes through me like the memories

that never stayed forever

that maybe trapping my memories in material makes me

lose their true essence in my mind

as I let them go into these matter things

trusting that they will stay true and close

they do not. 

throw it away

throw it away to keep it closer to heart

clear out one, two and three shelves for your ‘adult’ life

clear out a workspace table

organise your books and dreams and plan things

plan every step towards a goal

here comes melbourne

here come poetry

here comes reading and writing

and reading

and writing and constantly improving

improving improving

always struggling trying and writing and

this. This is a reminder

remember now

you are not a child anymore

you can daydream of real things and 

build them in steps

I am invisible

Like air and sunshine and dreams

like missed connections and heavy silences

like shifty reponses that don’t look eachother in the eyes

like a lack of network and effort and empathy

like it was never noticeable

like

like I’m tired and I want to break

free from every expectation

so I can learn how to fly