Poem 22: TRANCEPARENCY

I howled so loud,
As they buried me,
In the cold wet ground.
Time fitted that into a palm
Distance brought distance,
In unison, so calm
Harmony, transparency,
I feel your pulse,
With such clarity,
Many masks we all hide behind,
Don’t forget eye for an eye
Will make the world go blind.
Deception, betrayal, dishonesty
The lack of transparency,
Hold me,
Beyond a skin-deep sense of self,
There’s a depth of rasasvada unusually elysian.
Make a decision,
Watch an irenic mangata
The moon reflecting on the sea
Peace simply asks for transparency.

Poem 21: CONTROL

He would join his daily coma,
On his faded old sofa,
Just like clockwork, tik tok, tik tok,
The alcohol, streaming his veins,
Tied down with ropes and chains,
I am sorry, he cries as he explains,
All the broken promises obsessively he maintains.

I stood still in my corner,
Terrified,
I stood still as days became weeks,
Weeks became months and years,
Time passed uncontrollably,
I watched and learned his behaviour,
All his techniques.
I saw empty bottles broken, so lovely,
Face pale, and drained, so ugly,
I never saw him come home early.
Until one day, he never came at all.

I’m in no need for a climax,
After a sensation of alcohol,
The trick is to relax,
I promise it’s my last drunk call.
The world is black and white,
Sometimes a little in between,
Mostly smells like piss in the alleyways,
It’s far from a pretty scene.

My hands are wrinkled,
Eyes barely see,
Hair is now grey,
But am I really free?
Time has caught up,
I am old and grown up,
Turned into my alcoholic father,
Like father like daughter,
No point in regret,
Because I can’t just pack,
And pick a time to go back.
Funky smell, jukebox, neon lights,
Vodka soda, with a bit of lime,
One thing we can’t control is time.

Poem 19: UTOPIA

We are the brain cells,
Of a nine-year-old boy,
His imagination with deep wells and spells.
There is no reality, in this reality,
It’s full of faceless eyes.
Synthetic lips, cursed with sanity,
Insanity, sanity people so concerned for morality,
Yet their hypocrisy, hurts my chest
A dead utopia, dust and a quest.
Full of lawless streets but I am free,
Lawless streets with nobody,
Lawless streets and a smiling cat,
Singing from a tree, just like LSD.
This is the dead utopia,
All you people fear,
Because our existence only exists,
As long as this boy is asleep and unaware.

Poem 5

You claimed with all your might,
To know me better than,
The skies knows the kites,
You believed, deep within
You have figured me out,
But struggled to see the rivers,
Running down my spine,
Or the stony pathway to the castle,
Buried behind the forests,
Inside of my heart.
You were yet to discover,
The breeze my breath left,
On your skin,
Or the fingerprint marks,
That stained your bed sheets,
You tasted my snow storms,
You feared its form,
You ran away from my winter,
As you said it is too cold.
I watched you ran away,
Like a coward,
Before my spring able to come along,
And give you a bit of warmth.

Sex, the liberating delusion.

A sensual and passionate desire that captivates us all. Leaving a tingling feeling from our finger tips to our toes. Yet, well aware of the century we exist in, I guess it is a comforting delusion to believe that we are liberated, from the so called hang-ups and taboos of the old ages. Yet somehow, we still find ourselves with the shameful feeling lurking behind our shoulders if we were to ever mention these unspoken desires. We spit on the faces and claim they’re the reason behind the glorification of sex, making it the centre of our lives. I hate to break it to you, however, we have yet to begin to speak about these unspoken desires. We are yet to speak about sex, and I mean really speak about it.

As the world continues to believe the idea that we are sexually liberated, I unfortunately will have to disagree on the matter. Nearly every person I have known from a young age have been exposed to sex. One by one slowly each grew close to the idea of losing their virginity young, and so they did. I was certainly one to do so however, unfortunately not of my free will. I was exposed to it at the age of 13 still unaware of the exact definition of the word. I was scared and lonely but tragically I felt dirty. No matter how much I attempted to cleanse myself with soup, or rub my body with sand paper it simply just left physical scars, and the internal wounds never healed, not fully. Thus, I tragically could not achieve the sensation of simply feeling cleansed.

We as social beings have not talked enough about sex, and we should. When it comes to the characteristics of our personalities I cannot argue this enough, we are very different yet weirdly still very similar. We all aquire our own set of desires, as desires is what gets the world to go around and we all endure particular needs. And in many occasions this drastic split and conflict in desires can be found inside the very same mind and under the same skin, and nowhere does these desires float to surface better than during sex. A mere angel and a beast trapped in the same cage within the prison walls of our minds.

Nearly every human soul has, at least one point in their lives, have devoted themselves to the concept of love, a sweet and passionate sensation. We also try to be nice and caring too, but we cannot hold back the urge to simply tie our partner to the bed and do the unspeakable. Once we realise our minds wondering through the desires we have hidden in a dark closed off corner, an instant feeling of shame captivates us. Denying our thoughts of who we really are, why should our first instinct be to hide ourselves, surely this cannot be healthy for us?  Sexual loneliness is very much a norm even in our day and age.

We as children let our imaginations run wild and free, standard on a dessert island with the hopes of finding a buried treasure and following a rusty old map printed on sheep skin, fighting pirates with a hook for a hand and a single eye. In reality not only is would this have horrific and dangerous but it’s also simple fantasy. We certainly do live for those small moments in life where we lose touch of reality and a trip in fantasy land for a mere escape.

We always tend to find ourselves so attracted and excited by the idea of danger. Drugs for example, not only is it illegal but also addictive and very harmful to a person’s health. When we find ourselves in the bedroom with a partner, we should let our desires run wild. I mean why shouldn’t we? As long as everyone is safe and both or all parties give their consent, we should we hide our desires? Ourselves?