tried not to write you

 

                                        Image: www.freepik.com

                                      

I tried not to write you, this poem, and failed.

I failed, not writing you into this poem.

And there you are, bright and clear as annoying dew

frosted at the top of a flaming sword,

impossible, but real.

I tried to fold and push any emotions, tight, into a bundle

of rags inside my head,

contained, safe,

in a box squared with the walls of the real, and it failed,

it failed to hold it all.

Its walls imploded for a long second, then fell and

hung in the air, shaped like the butterflies

they were trying to kill.

Boxing emotions is a heavy-weight combat,

I used to be the world champ of that.

Now I lay defeated on the ring,

the referee counting on top of me

as I spit out the bloody words

with every second, waiting for the bell:

three, two, one,

and my reason becomes nothing,

I control nothing,

I am nothing

but a sigh, a tremor, a surrendering beast

under the heavy boot

of the impossible turned to real

that so coolly defeats me.

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explore the unknown

 

Let's all explore the unknown,

cut corners, jump fences,

embrace the strange and the stranger.

 

The man that walks with a smile,

shiny like a billiard ball

bouncing on corners,

with two parrots in his arms,

two parrots on his shoulders.

The lonely poppy bursting a red heart

in the middle of a green sea

of rye and rounded boulders.

 

Let's check on all the options for bliss,

no stone left down turned.

Joy may explode, like freaky stars

on the dark and mute velvety

unexplored universe's skin.

sitting on the void of the day

 

Sitting on the void of the day, your heavy truth

crushes the daffodils under its weight.

No more game of doubt can be played,

truth is all-blinding,

all-conquering,

sets you free.

So, free you are.

Sitting me, I don't hope the river waves

that were licking my toes and luring

me with promises of little,

of very little,

come back and splash me, accidentally,

anymore.

Words buzz around my head, like bees

annoying and selective

just sting on the days when the void calls,

heavy with truth,

crushing the daffodils under its weight.

motionless, emotionless

 

You lay down.

Motionless, emotionless

for far too long.

You skin crawling away from

the big

bad

waves

of feeling

crashing down on you,

all curled up

in a kernel of

peace

like a nutshell,

hardened out

around soft you and

holding

only

you,

just to end up

swimming, soaked, in pieces

and scattered.

Now, you are

seaweed

you 

are fucked,

your soft bits hang in the waters.

In the sobbing and heaving waves,

sharks dance for no one.

 

fight the dark

 

How do you fight the dark?

Staple it onto a white paper,

drown it in ink,

make it lay bare, flat out with outstretched arms,

capture it,

licking it with your brush until it begs for mercy

under the dire lights of an interrogation lamp.

How do you conquer the dark?

Spread it out over silences,

over spiky chords and notes,

jail it,

behind the bars of a song,

a handover from your wiser elders.

How do you make the dark collapse?

Share around its picture, in the open,

outstretched and nude under the light of a screen,

so that everyone can see her,

recognize her, pursue her, be warned,

be smitten, be in love.

 

never

 

It was never there

But now is gone.

It never lived

but now is dead.

Recoil, crumbling mouth,

melting ears,

deafened eyes,

broken shards oh so soft to the touch.

It was never there

but beware,

It bit my heart out.

Hollowed out, I wander,

hellion and bird

missing 

what did not exist.

clowns

 

My crusade is to create smiles

out of nothing,

out of dark seas of despair,

out of connivance in awful sins

out of pain.

I am the clown, the jester, the thief

of tears, the collector of broken feelings,

the mender of drums, the tuner of internal instruments,

the door

to a special kind mourning: the death of sadness.

Empty your pockets of pain, your head of drama, your chest of dumbbells

trying to pull you down.

The circus is here, it is just arriving,

conquering your town.

Crusaders of laughter, promoters of joy,

defeating the darkness with make-up and jokes,

we serve you our own blood for cocktails

we feed you our own sad heart.