Welcome to the silent babbling brook of heavy banter.
Welcome to my Melancholy Mayhem
Can’t talk right now
I can’t stand to hear my own voice
Shaken
Negative
________
Dinning on the bile of un-love at the pit of my stomach
Eyes burn with speeding time…
But I can write… I can do that well enough
I can only think of songs at the moment to express how I’m feeling
For my vocals are like chalk that crumbles on a sidewalk
A child who sits fretting over techni-color dreams washed away by rain…
Hard
Unyielding rain…
The kind that stings the face when you’re caught without an umbrella and you are steadily running under awnings and street signs that may or may not have any significance on an “ordinary day”.
Woman/child who’s Spirit is broken by none other than herself
Who has a dual bravado that reigns supreme.
Adoration is few and far between
She wishes she had never shown so much of the ugly
The ugly side of Sears like the hideous floral print pants she’s once brought too many moons ago when they were in “style”.
Weight of thinking out of “style”
Out of sync
When adoration passes and the inability to deal as the cool waters emerge & seaweeds of
Clouded visions appear
Eyes purple and swollen from the discover of the un-divine
Divided Deity
Phoenix burns deep in the flames but hasn’t arisen to the hr of shinning
Ashes are thick
They stink of fucked up repeat sonnets
Someday her Prince will come back to her laughing, smiling
Being what once was…
Someday she’ll welcome him back inside from the cold residue of creamy love gone crusty around the edges
For she knows he only abides by the cause and affect of things
Again
She just holds on because she can’t let go
It’s too hard to stay and ruin him with falsehoods of her overactive ego and under nourished pro-fidence
Too easy to be forgetful
Sweet
Ignorance
Ugly urgency
Ties that bind and blind
Years of the “why” are indeed over
Years of the “fuck it” have replaced those
Tears of the unknown are repaid a visit by tears of regrets
Regrets still remain small but well noted
Wishes of current timeline deaths to be replaced with a resurgence of just being
Of just doing
Faint cries of fathomable Faith
May I step out on Faith?
May
I
Let
Faith
In...
Others talk of self-esteem
Some live it
One surely does not have in self fully
Scared to ask
Scared to trust
Driven down into a special dark dank place where clear film in eyes and lumps in throats coat.
Stifle and choke her visions, she wants to see herself in the equation, but as a contributor
Or just a person who remains as the “significant other”
This Little ‘girl’ with such a big brain and a bigger heart
Filled lungs and mind and spirit with weight
Wait…
Unnecessary weight she knows, but so very necessary she feels to kill a part off in order to be reborn as something else
Staying in the moment…
This same angst that prompted such an Artistic response
Play of words
A bit more to endure
Babbling brook… I put my feet back in
Rambling on
Run on metaphors symbolic
Wondering if her special friend, her only external love will overstand her writings on the wall of his heart.
Hoping she hasn’t turned him off with her jealousy of him.
She knows it’s a false jealousy
It’s more about feeling inadequate to herself currently
Hating to love the hate because love is just too sweet and effortless to be true at times
Oh woman-child has so much more to bear
So many wonders
So many cares
Tries not to stare into the mirrored tomorrows of thought these days
Best duality cheerleader and critic of herself
Worst contradiction, hypocrite and nemesis of herself
Silver lines in her skies sketching themselves
Eventually
I am becoming familiar with my brand of 'Greatness'. However, there are times of doubt and internal unrest. I use my best foot to sometimes step on my worst foot and make sure I'm still breathing feeling & inevitably doing what I set out to do at my own space, place and pace.
"Go do something Audacious with yourself and enjoy the memories!" - Aura Dynamo
Audacity Of… © 2010
**first photo captured by Saddi Khali**
2 comments:
My Sister, my Sister, oh Woman Child, the voice can’t speak while the heart is screaming.
…and let it scream damn it so that your soul will hear your heart loudly lamenting, and together they will gather the scattered feathers that fell among the ashes.
My Sister, my Sister may your woman hold and cradle your child, and both find strength and warmth together.
Until that time I pray your mane with its many woolen like tentacles spread around your bright ruddy face to shield your heavy eyes from those who would harm you while you weep.
The smoke has burn your eyes but your vision is still pure.
My sister please forgive us who draw near to your bed of painful transition because we smell the amniotic water of labor. We seek the eternal without willing to kill the lamb. Such is the folly of men and their two heads. Plus shame on the fool who did not see your greatness, and did not see that you are a creator of life.
…If there be for you an Angel
Hold on my dear Sister, hold on you are not done. You have more to say and more to be.
Your light is dull for a moment. You are too precious to fade away.
May love hold you in its purest form and kiss you on your cheek.
The smoke will fade. Your tears will clam the flow, and your feet will again stand firm.
Time will temper the memories and the feathers will become wings and she will fly.
* If there be for him an angel, a mediator, one of the thousand, to declare to man what is right for him; Job33:23
Post a Comment