Colour Blind

I had written this poem and I had stopped on the first paragraph (grey being the last word). But today was such a blissful day! It was uber sunny – yet, still freezing – I met friends and felt nourished where was I lacking. So, while cycling home those other lines came out. It is ok being colour blind…once you can change the sights, you can change your inner state. If anyone ever seems me cycling, I am not having a seizure. I am just having the best time while I dance on my bike ( disclaimer: not recommended and highly dangerous) . . . Colour Blind I am bewildered by the wideness of this world! With periscopic sight, I see a palette of colours. Despite, at times, black and white Are the only paint that animate. It swirls in a spiral, mixing both Blending into one, tainting my soul grey. But hold on to your seat and sit tight. The rays of the sun serve to highlight. The alacrity of shapes and signs, The intensity of unseen designs. A glorious morning will come, After this grimm eventide. The sun beams while you rhyme and dance on your bike.

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Make A Dream

Our souls are consubstantiated.

Interlocked

by this sacred essence
That cannot be delineated.
A radiation with no starting point
Or ending.
Feel our hands touching the land,
See our hair cover our stare,
Caused by crosswise air.
Let imagination take you there.
Some call it dreams, others illusion.
Magic cannot be named! It leads to confusion.
Perceive your reality as make-believe
Building new life on top of your fantasies!

A DSM LOVE

I always knew You were not right in the head

.That is not how normal people act

None-the-less, I longed for your caress

I could understand

Your intricacies.

Accusations,
Limited views,
And miscalculations.
But you know me,
A maso-sadist
Who plays with fire to get burned.
I cherish the lunacy that resides in All of us.
Let’s “namaste” wild gods, thus:
My inner psycho master greets

The schizo deity inside of ye

We all have a part that is out of wack and unbalanced and rather than repressing and ignore it, I am trying to treasure it and acknowledging.

People with mental illnesses deserve to have relationships. For that they need understanding compassion from others.
I am not trying to make light of those conditions, specifically mentioned or any mental health issue. But this is me, acknowledging that we have a propensity to get there, to the same place some are at. By recognising it in myself, I recognise it in others and that puts me in a position of compassion, rather than judgement.

A dream-not of you

The process of writing poetry is fascinating. I have a considerable amount of stream of consciousness lines to work on and weave into a poem. Nonetheless, sometimes the flow does not come so I leave them aside. This poem came from a tag on instagram for the hashtag #youneverleft.

I love how free flow poetry works. One line pushes another and there you have it. You don’t really know where it will lead you to. In truth, the last lines came first and I built my poem from these pillars.
Just a reminder: no one but yourself can make your dreams come true. But this line just alludes to the fact, there was a wish that was never fulfilled. 👇

A dream-not of you

The rising shine of morning rays
Tickles the eyes, hatching for the day.
The first thought and memory that delineates my mental landscape
Are not yours, they are mine to gratify and celebrate.

Finally, I achieve peace.
No more worrying, “does he love me?!” The focus is, again, internal
The breaths and heartbeats make this poetry’s symphony.
Our story will remain stamped on my cells, the body’s journal,
For the learning does not die, it keeps on coming.
Forever ingrained in the patterns of the unconscious.

Then, I realise,
You have never left, never really withdrew,
That is because you never came
To make my dreams come true.

City Encounters

Who said loneliness is not tangible?
It is the phone that doesn’t ring
Or the finger taps that don’t please.
All those people in your feed,
Shutting their blinds down
On your window screen.

So, I download that app and walk around
Hoping our paths cross around town.
The red light beeps
Like my heart beats that bleeds
It is not a notification,
But my battery that ceases.

Town is buzzing, eyes are crossing
Heads are turning, men are watching.
Ripped jeans and some fake tan whiff.
Going out for a drink?
Ain’t nothing better than this?
How about a bicycle trip?

Pareidolia Love

The rhythm is faster than I would have wished. I just wanted to fit it all into 1min.

Sorry if it is a bit muffled but I am using my phone as a mic.

___________

Pareidolia Love

I am the face on this tree,
The face that all sees.
I carved our bleeding names onto it
And I circled it into a heart.
But I can’t find this tree no more.
I’ve been banned from that park
I am left to wander and look for parts
of memories left, in the forests of my past.

A date into the city burrows,
I saw the tombs where monks got buried.
I went where you saw Irish ship,
We kissed just right beside those trees.

Your dog was frolicking in the soil
The rain was pouring, but it was no toil
My feet got soaked, yet, you dried me
With lots of hugs and fleshy heat.

I look back and reminisce,
This was a real lived romance!
I then, wake up without your kiss
Was this a dream? Or just a trance.

I’ll let my eyes be on this tree
So it shall always look at thee.
Protecting you, when passing b,
Inattentive to my guise.