Punches leave a mark

no room

image via: http://eileentjan.tumblr.com/

—-

Great!

There is no pain.

No pains running through my veins… !”£$%^&*()

(Not enough!)

Except for one -

if you can call it pain.

It’s the result of this fact;

the consequence of nerves finally intact?

I can’t write!

Writing is now like a long-lost love,

one that cannot be mourned

in the way I felt proud.

Now every word

is weighted with expectation;

an impatience without emotion.

Placeless pain;

pageless passion.

Is it lost or did it die?

My way of release

now in need of release.

There are shadows inside you and me.

But they’re holding hands,

it’s just too dark to see.

Consciousness: You have to lose it to get it back again…

Dirty gold

-

Is it fate

or was it a mistake?

To come here and take a chance.

-

Will I regret 

and now never beget,

that which was mine

had I not tried to climb?

-

* Written when I was in a stink doing a job I hated far from home and regretting it. But there were drops of gold in that rain… There are no mistakes only ‘lessons’, it seems that’s true.

Intuition tells me

repeating the letter ‘c’

will go towards relieving me.

And so I go on muttering,

filing up my nails.

To cut you to the quick;

file you back,

get back.

Cus though worse things happen at sea -

and to people on TV -

with this I cannot sit,

I have to say my bit.

I’ve conflict born of inner-

conflict born of outer.

Conflict, Konflict, Cunt.

This is for your misdemeanour.

Jealousy

via: http://venanzimus.tumblr.com/

—-

Should he ignore his jealousy

and carry on regardlessly?

Should he try to let love be

and strive to give egolessly?

—-

NB. ‘Only those who are unable to think what they feel obey grammatical rules. Someone who knows how to express himself can use those rules as he pleases.’

− Fernando Pessoa :)

Little drizzle

Image source: http://boopiee.tumblr.com/

My mommy dressed me up as a drizzle

When I was docile and little.

Now she wonders if she’s responsible

For her little miserable.

Thing is that she doesn’t see,

Now I think it is funny. 

And I just don’t mind a bit,

I’m one of those for whom drizzle is the shit…

Perhaps it prepared me for dancing in the rain,

And staying rooted in a hurricane -

No space is immune to fill

When you flow like water without fear of ill.

So I’m happy just to be

The way she thinks she has made me…

Trust

via http://fuckyeahmouths.tumblr.com/

Time stretches ahead of you,

Its mouth open wide.

But why are you afraid?

Its teeth are far apart,

It poses no direct harm.

It waits patiently,

A benign, lockjaw entity.

Desire breeds denial

Separating Laundry

The world presented me

With all its shades and colours.

Yet I chose,

Or blindly tended,

To mix the good and the great,

And the OK,

With the shit that stained,

That clung and stunk;

turned white to grey.

Now I separate my laundry.