May 22

Entry Poems

1 comment

Providentia

 

The distance between Earth and M87* is incomprehensible to

this poor mind used to counting apples and years and fingers

And yet we crept across the globe

to Maxwell’s sturdy pedestal and to shield volcanoes

And to deserts where it sometimes snows

Even had the southern lights illuminate our patience

And quiet work of waiting for the atmosphere to smooth itself

in awe of our curious and stubborn effort

Catching light with metal mouths gaping at the sky

hungry for whatever length we told them

Feeding it into whirring little suits

Neat on their racks and proud as if aware of the importance of

their charge

And after months we crawl back with those boxes in our

hands “How the heavens have aligned”

We say and shake our heads and bend over blinking lights and

screens

Nearly praying that we're right and haven't just collected

pretty chaos or nothing or something

In hope we separate from each other and thus from a

particular form of failure -

There are only so many things we can do together without

risking the infection that was always there but only recently

classified as human bias

 

The importance of what is undertaken does not allow for

simple errors of the soul

So the work continues in single effort until the image is

revealed for the first time

Bleached by the morning sun and smelling like coffee

The seconds seem to separate around that lidless Eye

That black heart of the universe with its crown of fire

And drag around it ponderous and halting like an anchor

hoping to stop the world from going on just a little while

A hand reaches for the telephone careful not to disturb the

constructed sacredness of the moment

“It is done” the voice confirms and cuts human history in half

with held-back tears

But there is something more pushing through the static hiss

“We know” it seems to say “And whatever follows we have

known about this damned universe all along”

 

 

At peace Between Mondrian and the tree

lies a sea with many valleys, and in them the light is distant if at all light;

there may my pieces rest for all eternity,

or at least until the oceans boil away

and the Sun is a rotten blood orange

peering in the depths

where the dust of my dust is scattered

with the salt and sand, and entropy

to guard against my recomposition.

 

 

 

 

Huronian Glaciation

 

I was there when the world almost died;

trillions writhed at my feet in the tainted waters,

drowning in their own waste

which made its way to my lungs just fine

and I breathed the months away

watching as the ground was eaten by the ice,

then the rivers and the lakes

and finally the newborn oceans,

sealing away the depths of life

under white expanses stretching

for three hundred million years,

pressing down and extinguishing

flame after single-celled flame;

there was pleasure

in how they could not comprehend

that they had caused this

and swam on in pathetic seizures

as death descended from the ice

now too thick for any light to bore through -

in the dark their tiny bodies failed

and fell to the ocean floor

where pressure ground them into dust,

then to nothing at all,

and the world was thus remade.

or at least until the oceans boil away

and the Sun is a rotten blood orange

peering in the depths - WOW the "rotten orange" theme in your poetry! Either we both listened to No Doubt - Don't Speak MTV Video, or it's strange and worthy of exploration coincidence

New Posts
  • Happiness How much I long for peace and understanding. For love, emotion, sans pretending. I search in me and see her there, she's standing wordless, almost dead. But words are power, they are freedom to let her roar inside this kingdom that I call home, without a house. Without a harness but with words I feel so close to happiness. --------------- See me You subside inside, I feel it. I feel the ugly pain. I try to smile, to hide you, but it is all in vain. The blood inside me rushing. Oh, make it stop. Before I lose myself, before I vanish, before I am just a spot. A spot of happiness, a spot of smiles - "Can I be this?" - instead of ugly feelings and resentment, why, they feel so amiss. See me? --------------- In your heart You wake up, feeling "why?". Instead, try putting on a smile - for everything you are - you are enough, the world will see it when it's in your heart.
  • * i'm a thorn in the eye of abundance ruffling the light in his hairy knees in her naked flat breasts trickling between the moles of his pear skin on the slide inbetween her orange thighs our confluence possible only if we learn to suck simultaneously roots my giblets summoned up for the shooting down of a premature intimacy abandonment’s no death the black tightropes down the throat are roots devotion tiptoe running over the crumbly outlines of tonight i spread salty insights above the insensible streets i intoxicate hanging answers up the oval of grey swifts they fly away i crumble into a brand new pit
  • Look They lead me to a stage made out of wood. People cheering, all in happy mood. There is a rope. They tie it all around my chest. Another rope. This time attaching my body to the stalk. All are shouting. Screaming for a show. So here they bring another rope. They light the fire, I breathe in the smoke. I hear them all. All waiting for my fall. There is no fear. I still can hear. They’re all looking in my direction. No one seeing my reaction. No one knowing how I looked. No one caring why I burnt. My eyes open against my will. I just want to stop to feel. But instead I look and really see. I lock my eyes at them, but no one at me. The flames begin to reach my body. I cannot think, my mind is foggy. It quiets down. I cannot hear the screams. I have no choice but to close my eyes and breathe it in. I wish I did not have to feel. But I did. I felt it all. Until all left was my ash laying on the floor. A Spider’s Dance It is not an endless wave of pain. It does not hurt, it does not rain. And despite the tears that come rolling down, I do not jerk, I do not make a sound. For something in me broke today. Something I’ve been holding onto begging it to stay. I did not care how it would go. I was delusional, my apprehension drowned within my core. I have always thought that either one of us is better. He always told me it was him. And after every day the gap went greater, every passing moment in his favor. I sometimes tried to fight the storm, the waves of words, the smile that called for more. I ventured down the alley of defense, I speculated he would call for rest. And every time the attack came round, it was harsher, aimed with brutal calm. It went for all I held up close, through all defenses, keys and doors. And as every moment passed in time, he knew a flicker more of my guilt and crimes. But he did not use them all at once. He spent his time in a spider’s dance. He joked around about funny things. They all included dates and love and rings. He leaned down close and whispered in my ear, things that all would know, but only I would hear. He would call me names, some nice, most not. And with every step he would get closer by an inch, to my soul, my heart and a body he could lynch. Of course, I thought I held up strong, and as I fought I saw nothing wrong. For with all the webs that tie me now, he can eat me slow and make me bow. No. It is not an endless wave of pain. I was in love. He held my chain. It is not something that could easily break. My heart resists, my master begs. So I write this down with hope that I will not forget. That I will not be caught in the spider’s web. For I sometimes caught that glimpse of how it is, but never naked truth and always his. It did not help that they had my back, encouraging my delusions, not keeping me in check. He does not love me, he does not care. He proves that daily with actions I refuse to share. But this… It does not help. For when chains of leather break, ones of metal are eager to replace. So no. I hold no regret, not towards my actions or claims to be upset. He made me feel like shit. He showed me all the ways I do not fit. That I stood alone, him on the throne. That I could not fight, that he was always by my side. That all my words were always wrong, that all of his are a gospel song. That I am less and he is more, that while I squeak, he would roar. But through all of this and despite of it, he would be my friend, I would never leave. I dread and feared of being played, of acting as a fool. I thought I held myself together, I thought I played it cool. But I did not see that while the truth I would conceal, he saw through every wall and every seal. That even long before the seating changed, behind the curtains, it all was staged. And now I know that I’ve been wrong. That it is not at all as I had thought. My chains did break, no matter how much it had to take, but there won’t be new ones to replace. I see my class. I see every person till the last. He is their king. All are wearing the black stoned ring. But I do not. I am a threat, he is no god. And while he can scream, my look can bring monsters to their knee. He might have power, but it is not his own. And it is my fire, my will that will prolong. Just Alone I know they hear me. I know they see me. Everyone knows I’m here. Every morning I sit where I am placed, wherever I fit. Everyone greets me, as they arrive later than me. Everyone sits on their spot, as I sit on my own. We all do it together. This should make me feel better. But then the bell rings, and my happy mood flings. For they sit, too, but they sit in groups. They walk, and talk, and laugh like me, but mine is fake, and theirs is free. And yes, I’ve learned how to smile. It is not something new. It is a skill that is known, practiced, mature. So, if I have to stand up, to walk or look up, I put on a smile, and with small steady steps, I do so ahead. I don’t have much time, not that I need it. Everything’s fine. I study. I do everything due. When there are problems to solve, I do them both. When there are stories to write, I manage to hide. But then the stories we tell, and then starts the hell. The first one is funny. It is easy to laugh, pleasant to do so, we all have our fun. The next girl stands up. Everyone hopes for her mouth to shut. They talk to each other, joking around. That is why I begin the remaining seconds to count. So, the class proceeds. Every boy and girl reads. But I stay right there, someone says my name, but I am too scared. So, the class does proceed. I did not speak. The classes end. Time to go, to not pretend. They find their friends, stepping out, all holding hands. But all I do is smile once more and walk out the door.

+359 883 496 235

©2019 by Part Time Language & Culture Center