Skip to main content

Lessons From The Master

Sweet delicate premise
Balled fists and closed eyed kisses
Standing in your shadow is luminous
Morphed adaptations subject to your touch
Latching onto unstable footing
Quivering under the weight of the bittersweet taste of your monastery

You head the pulpit
Where only ever your testamony must ring true
So I bend and fold to fit biased accounts of realities I know too well
Student and teacher
Annointed caricatures of an Adonis complex
You are the preacher
Never choosing me as I choose you

Bad romances
A cult never devout of devotees
So you give out a piece of us
Played like a fiddle by your lust
There you go dancing again to the sound of your own beat
While I stand behind you watching my feet

Masterful wielder of the mightiest sword
Never sparring the rod
Silently unseen lashes and cuts
Failing and flailing
Trying to latch you on to my bust
The heady aroma of us

It's the glint of captured starlight
Both far away and so near
So I keep reaching
For the unattainable can be so deceiving



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Still too young

Infinite curiosity and wonder Holding up a woolen crown Weaved with a thread of certainty Kissing both the heavens and the earth Nestling the subtle nectar of unconditional love Tentatively peering past the constraints re-imagined by men The dirt and the musk veiled by bright lights Passively they walk past monuments and metaphors Little to no regard for the rotten underbelly The stench of hopes lost, dreams discarded -           And complacency accepted as a norm Ill fitted realities we slide into Like slick robes we put them on Forsaking a most sacred calling While we abide a most trivial and misguided mental oppression Somehow convinced that this is the best we can offer Prison or a coffin… Dying before we are dead- a routine we practice too often The shoes we cannot fill are too grand A history we cannot placate Because what we are is the change they died for Unsatisfied, but we remain...
2 comments
Read more

Blood Stains On The Pavement

Blood stains on the pavement The footprints of an extinguishing life force Squalor, death and rust They care not for us Gunshots, disembodied screams And the ever-present swan song of police sirens Little kids play on concrete streets No place to house innocence when home possesses no safety, Nor does it offer security In the men we can never trust, devoid of wisdom and humility     Masculinity as fragile as a wine glass We once wore deviance as the voice of the silenced Now we neatly tuck it away together with all the agency of our womanhood We weave street lights like moths to flame My brothers forget us My sisters allow it And the children cannot help but witness it They placate our existence with the amnesia we find at the bottom of a bottle They wait like vultures They poison us with unsolicited prescriptions, When only they carry the sickness Young boys raise hands and fists For a cause rooted only in violen...
2 comments
Read more

AURORA, DEATH AND BEAUTY

The gentle and rhythmic hum of the train soothed Aurora into a dull lull. As she peered through the carriage window, with one eye open- a picturesque field of grass spanning as far as the eye can see steadily came into view. What a beautiful and vast kind of nothingness she thought to herself. While others would have seen this and raveled in the beauty of nature and life. She instead saw the endlessness that is an affliction on all living things. We live, we die so others can live and die. The pointlessness of it all. Caught off-guard by the often absentminded straying of her thoughts, she shook her head violently to her left as if to wake herself from that dark place she knew all too well. Looking down at hands that were cradling shaky knees, she pulled up the right sleeve of a worn-out winter sweater. The grey stitches were starting to venture out and free loose thread that swayed along to the beat of the train. Aurora took one long breath in, closed her eyes altogether and mastere...
2 comments
Read more