Frozen

I can't find the days in my past, hard as I try to look. I don't see them anymore. Although their scent lingers on. Fresh and green like lemon grass in the sun. My eyes water at the thought of those days suspended between certainty and disbelief, like missing pages from a book I know I've read before but no matter how many times I flip back and forth they are no where to be found.

Like dark matter, hanging in space, palpable. Making their presence known but hidden from everyone's eyes.

Their taste is still there, in the back of my throat, bitter sweat and sour with time.

Missing days.

They say you can live a whole life in a day or two. If that was true then I used to measure time by the beats of my heart.  The faster my heart beat, the faster the seconds flew by. The farther you are now, the longer my days grow, and the slower my heartbeats. Someday, when my heart stops all together , the only thing left frozen in time will be a thought of you. Distant and cold.

The Nature of Dark

"I love you" said the Dark to the Light
"Even when you destroy me,
I love you for that very reason
which makes me your vanquished,
And makes you my conquerer."

"I love you when you lift my cloak,
And peel off layer after layer of my skin.
When your warmth branches through my being like veins;
Like cracks in a glass poised on the edge of collapse.
I love you with a million eyes shining above me,
And a million eyes looking up from below,
Marvelling at your beauty, Light,
But their gazes pierce right through me
As if I'm not there.

"I love you Light, and it kills me each day,
And each night I pray to be murdered again.
To stand my ground for once and, come what may,
Fade into non-existence with open arms,
Embrace you, but I don't dare.  I swear
By the silence that is older than me,
And the vastess it claimed before we were born,
That I love you Light."

"I don't blame you for not trusting me.
I've run away countless times before.
And every time you see me creeping
Back over the places you'd left,
Hiding behind the corners waiting for you to depart,
Sulking inside windowless rooms,
Behind keyless  doors, In the cold and damp.
In all of these, because I love you light, I stay.
That's what keeps me around the corners,
That's why I inhabit those rooms.
That's why I put up with the cold.
Because I love you light.
It's in my nature." 

Oh no my friend I'm not here anymore.
Only my mail arrives here on Tuesday,
But even then it rarely ever finds me.
I've faded into the patterns on my wall.
All I see are endless fields of grass.
Maybe they end somewhere (or maybe I'm walking in a circle.)
I'll probably never get there.
People these days are ordering egg'n-a-half omlets,
They want the crust cut off their toast.
You'ld think that somewhere out there
Some orphan has half an egg and some crust
To be thankfull for, but you'ld be wrong.
We made so many coffins this year,
We also mad planters out of bomb shell casings,
But the plants keep dying in them.
So I say, "It must be the water."
But I know it's not the water.
Even though the water is poisoned,  
I know it's not the water.
Plants just don't want to grow for us anymore.

A Toast

Here's to cool nights and quiet days,
To whisky and the sound of crickets
And  thunder in the distance,

Here's to the gold in my glass
And exhaled dragons that carry
The sweet scent of rememberence,
And the dull agony in my bones.

To the fallen moth,
The watching crows,
The hungry dogs,
The engorged sows,

Here's to learning the words,
Acting the part,
To liberty in a cage and freedom in a nightmare.

Here's to the fire in my throat.
And the frost in my chest,
May they embrace,
Like long lost lovers
In every cliche ever written.
May they be happy with one another.

And to Dharma!
Here's to Dharma, to Karma,
And all the Mantras that have ever been sung.
May they resound until the last gong,
Is rung by the last orphan,
On the last hilltop,
For the last sun.

What lips my lips have kissed by Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, 
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain 
Under my head till morning; but the rain 
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh 
Upon the glass and listen for reply, 
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain 
For unremembered lads that not again 
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. 
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree, 
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, 
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: 
I cannot say what loves have come and gone, 
I only know that summer sang in me 
A little while, that in me sings no more.

Disclaimer

I think I'll tattoo the URL for this blog spot on my arm. I have grown more forgetful of late and I think that, given my family history, there is a high chance I will not remember where I write these thoughts in the near future.

It sounds bleak but my bark is worse than my bite. I just need a corner of this virtual world to come back to some day in the future. Something that serves me better than a daily journal, which I have, but nothing very interesting makes its way there.

I do my most interesting brain droppings on this electronic page, and I think I will keep on doing so.

For those of you who have stumbled into my page by accident, don't be too judgmental. These writings remain the rants of a restless mind. Nothing useful, to you, can come from reading my page. The experiences are personal, the imagery is comical, the words are mostly miserable, but the effect they have on me are indescribable.

My thoughts taste of strawberry to me, and that is something you will never get.

One more time (or Day One )

Molten copper, red and gold,
In rivulets, cascading over her sleeping face,
And, across the plains of my chest, snaking, they flow.
With every breath, the land swells, and the rivers sway.
Deep in the earth my heartbeats quake,
And I prey to God she does not wake
From her dream.
“Give me one more minute”, let her stay,
One more second, is not asking much,
For a whole day I've spent away.
Let me watch the curve of her lips,
The shadows on her arm,
The sun in her hair, and feel warm,
When I touch her back with my fingertips.
Let me trace the valley of her spine,
One more time.
(One more time)
Lightly so as not to excite, but that I might
Feel and believe this bliss of mine.
This bliss is real.

The beat, beat, beat, in her breast
Sends jolts of pleasure like waves over me.
They engulf me, and shake the foundation of my faith.
(Could this be God in my arms?)
The beat, beat, beat, like battering rams,
Against the four gates of prudence,
As a roar in my ribs gathers like a storm.
Where the caged beast that abates, and is grudgingly still,
Craves the flesh and pines for the thrill,
As it gnashes its teeth on the chains of my will.

“Wake her. Take her.” It growls.
“One more time.
"Taste her flesh, drink her breath,
"One more time,
"Bite her neck.
"Rake her back with my claws
"One more time.”

My eyes dance across her skin,
Tracing the migration of autumn birds,
On warmer winds,
Chasing the salty air,
To that familiar unknown.

"When was it, that you last fed?
"Loosen these bracelets and I'll save us both."
The smell of burnt matches,
Sulphur and wax, hangs in the air.
"You need not hunger" my striped ward adds
"Heed my advice and you will dine together.
"You and I."                                  

Once more I draw breath.
Deep, and slow, life's flow back
Into me lifts the veil of dreams,
I see my bare chest,
And the beast is gone.