almost invisible

Posted on Nov 8th, 2009 by

Stay,
As you are.
time folds it's arms against my chest
Unimpressed with my caged contortions
Illusionists tricks of yesterday tommorrow
of movement from here

Pull the walls closer round me,
tonight I need to feel less alive.
No longer young enough to know everything
Like I had thought;
The shock comfortingly overwhelming,
of possiblities.

Unmasked my horrer stalks inside me
aching her silent apologies of hope.
I wanted to be lonely,
to see what was left when everything else was gone
the feeling of feelings,
being me.

My friends on the T.V require only my suspended disbeleif
swapping names and personalities
they forgive me, visit me while I'm asleep,
Love me with Sins.
Giving stories
that exist without me.

So I can only be half real
can't bear the accusation of fire in your eyes
because in my blindness I earned respect from the dark
Learned patience from a stone
tied around my neck
as I bear it all, in this molten river of Love

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Loosing The Art Of

Posted on Oct 28th, 2009 by

Shanti

Treading Light
In a restless Ocean
Short Short Thoughts
Waves breaking,
bleeding internally.
No time for Now,
Or this thing that you call living.

this conversation
moves me
makes me,
irreversibly displaces me
converted, inverted
convoluted
My feelings flip.

Swapping edges
Particles of light,
won't stay still
whisper over and under
where I can't quiet hear;
Don't tell me what you want
make me feel it.

Eternity (always with a capital E),
taking over
and taking it all in.
My body spreads
mapping new frontiers
six directions converge,
As soft young girls
bravely bearing their chest,
we dare you
to rip out my heart.

I was falling high
afraid not to try
bite my soul in two
Oh So willing to die for your Love;
in a thousand words or less
an essay on everything
because art wasn't meant to be sensible.

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Tagged with: sometimes my mind moves very quickly it's hard to, dreaming I'm asleep again, essay on everything, Loosing many plots at once, The art of conversation.

Secret

Posted on Oct 20th, 2009 by

Shanti

If I told you
you couldn't believe me.
I wanted it to be sticky.
in the middle of the night
half fast awake,
but dreaming nevertheless
we felt so real,
mutually exclusive
of the god in your top pocket

listening with everything
under your held breath,
It's not like I could help it
if I could.
and I want you to know
what not even I know,
and then you could tell me
how much you Love me
and I would know it was true.

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Tagged with: if I told you then it wouldn't be a secret would i

What confuses you?

Posted on Oct 14th, 2009 by

Shanti

This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for October 14, 2009:

My Brain, a storm of electricty commonly experienced in the head.

        Things I don't understand.
          Sometimes Everything.

              A love affair with confusion.
                   Believing in thoughts.

     What he said.
What it means.
   Bigger pictures......

                                 The vastness of the universe.
                                 And how does my TV and my phone work anyhow?

                                         The complexities of Life.
                                                Context and Perspective.

                      If I am different than you?

                                            Wanting to know
                                             Right down to the seeds of desire.

                                            Where do I end?
The power of Love.

                                                                 How I am .

Forgetting God.

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Tagged with: Q&R, confusion, bewilderment, understanding

What Comes

Posted on Oct 6th, 2009 by

Shanti

Stewing in my own soft skin
slow asleep
caught in the spell
My prayer your lullaby
messing with my own sweet mind
Like this.

I dream of reality crashing through,
And the meaning of feeling on purpose,
Like I like to imagine,
Maybe it's you.

Abiding by this measure of time
pressing here into now
where I've never been quite ready
To take it all
at all
for what it's worth,
cause what's a girl supposed to do?

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Saturation Point

Posted on Sep 3rd, 2009 by

Shanti

Forgiven__redeemed__restored__reborn____set_free

Hardly Here
Around my fingers wrapped
all sense of meaning
Barely Making out
My heart
Breaking in.

Subtleties sighing
inside my sinking feelings,
oh so wrong,
its just right.
All Exactly held against me
Still the light shows through.

" What " Whispered in my ear, like I know.
Who wanted this?
silent poetry softly drips
new tones in full colour surround,
Painfully clear now
Just How God it is.

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Talking to Strangers

Posted on Aug 11th, 2009 by

Shanti

Something in the shape of your face
reminds me of God's gentle love;
A private sign written in your silent grief
assures me what a grand design
this ground beneath us is.

I look around you
moving glances
my humble form of praise
For you, For sure;
and us New strangers,
and all I do not know.

The script is written,
the stage is set
my secret shame,
the joy of sadness mixed,
The art of life
holding us in perfect place.

Undefeated because I do not dare
To shout out How,
out loud,
how Maybe,
It's O.K. to be happy
with this way things are.

And I don't need
to touch your skin to feel you.
Don't want to make you smile
or even try to understand,
what this means,
or really is.

Embarrassed by all I can not bear,
the fruit of knowledge blushing ripe and ready at my feet.
Where nothings worth, or worse,
to miss this moment,
How simply beautiful Life is.

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Differentations; making deals with light and space.

Posted on Jul 24th, 2009 by

Shanti

Sometimes it's hard to tell
all the things words wont say

the unutterable sound of deep silence
My Soul Undone

Fighting forward
instead of fighting back
the whole sky surrounds me
spreading heavey blue dreaming
through my incadescent veins
slow asleep.

My cells divide
as God decides
and time derides
the simple act of Life

until nobody knows for sure
how to know
what you know
beyond the shadows of this bright.

Rainbow chasers
Soften the facts we breathe
making fun, of real flesh and mud
smiling, sitting, still
where the hair grows softly
Of his ever mad palm
I shake
with Glee

___________________________________-

Differentiation \Dif`fer*en`ti*a"tion\, n.

1. The act of differentiating.

Further investigation of the Sanskrit may lead to differentiation of the meaning of such of these roots as are real roots. --J. Peile.

2. (Logic) The act of distinguishing or describing a thing, by giving its different, or specific difference; exact definition or determination.

3. (Biol.) The gradual formation or production of organs or parts by a process of evolution or development, as when the seed develops the root and the stem, the initial stem develops the leaf, branches, and flower buds; or in animal life, when the germ evolves the digestive and other organs and members, or when the animals as they advance in organization acquire special organs for specific purposes.

4. (Metaph.) The supposed act or tendency in being of every kind, whether organic or inorganic, to assume or produce a more complex structure or functions.

Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary (1913)

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Tiger in the Pool

Posted on Jul 14th, 2009 by

Shanti

The passion calls
life from the living
fast inside my chest
impatiently aflutter
shallow dreaming
drowning in my own sweet blood,
again.

immodestly meek
I discover myself disclosed
swimming with tigers
stiller waters cutting deep.
Understanding unbidden
how wrong I am,
and just how much I love,
Too late;
Because I thought life was safer on the silent bottom of the pool.

Tearing out my heart
measuring my pulse against this steady flow
pure feeling unstemmed
gushing through,
as I let go of my edge
off the deep end
so to speak, (in bubbles)
but I choke
learning to breathe now I am in over my head.

Too many things now
that sorry wont say,
Turning in time to see you turning away.
Burning with this impossilbe need
To have and to hold
These tears I can't cry for you
And the truth I just can't beleive,
or let be.

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Tagged with: passion, danger restlessness, speaking in bubbles, desire and need, immodestly meek, ferocity, fluidity, disclosure, mixed metaphors, sorry wont say

good hurt

Posted on Jun 20th, 2009 by

Shanti

What do you know?

Face to face, pale as my excuses excuses…..

The moments fall.

Tasting fear in the back of my throat,

Singing in the rain,

Soaking through like bruises.

Who said there’d be a drought?

Grasping for that space between;

Growing up and growing old,

Two breaths,

This thought and the next.

Almost inevitable, almost invincible,

Invisible;

Always and only mostly there.

Existentially incorrect

Mind breaking open

Water from the stone

The desert calls me onwards

This thirst I swim in

Wanting salt for the wound

Wanting, All of This Ocean, inside me.

__________________________________________________

"If that Spirit of Faithfulness⁷ sheds my blood, I will drink gulp
after gulp of (my) blood,⁸ like the earth.

"I am a drinker of blood, like the earth and like the embryo.⁹ (And)
this (has been) my occupation (ever) since I've been a lover.

"At night, I continue boiling on the fire,¹⁰ like a kettle. (And) from
day until evening, I'm drinking (my) blood, like the sand.

~RUMI

http://www.dar-al-masnavi.org/n.a-III-3884.html

__________________________

Image from here

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Tagged with: Love, Fear, water, blood, ocean, salt, life, mostly there, existentially incorrect, wanting

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