poetry for thought

title: Tomorrow

Tomorrow, I will write a poem,

A poem so great that it tugs on rib cages,

A poem so simple, that it makes you smile,

A sad poem, for that single tear.

Tomorrow, never comes,

And I am stuck in this loop,

Of story lines and sentences of incomplete prose,

Of silences and memories.

Today, I write this poem,

Reminding myself of the words

That do exist,

Even when the mind aches from forgetting

And remembering.

Poetry for thought

title: Still

I feel like I am yours, still.

Not like a commodity,

But like you-know-parts-of-me-that

I-have-forgotten,

Parts of me that are hiding today.

A pinch of my personality,

That only you saw, then, and only

You can revive now, maybe.

Makes sense? Shall I continue?

I feel like I am yours, still.

Like the word still, in still water,

Water that stays still

Even while the sun eats it up in summer,

Still lingering and feeding organisms.

Yours, mine, ours, are the

Stories that need telling, lingering, eating, feeding

Wait, vocabulary makes no sense right now.

It’s a word jumble, a crossword, falling out of my tired heart,

Are you with me, still?

Nostalgia is a funny thing, isn't it?

A show reel of hazy memories, ideas,

Thoughts that need re-writing, re-imagining
Can you help me find the cracks?

The cracks that sent me, spiralling,

Through a memory, a sound, I keep
Wandering, like a fool, searching, breaking,

Is the map lost too? Do you have it, still? Maybe.

Are we at the end now?

I feel

Like

I

Am

Yours,

Still.

Even when the weaves of time

Have changed everything and nothing at the same time.

Poetry for Thought

Title: What do you think?

Loss is weightless, isn’t it?

Like a fictitious story.

Where is the documentation of loss?

Yes, a person died,

Yes, a person left,

But is that loss?

Isn’t loss what follows?

The weightless fog that has no colour,

No smell, no speed, no way to find it in this world.

An obituary doesn’t smell of loss,

It is at the period of the last sentence, of the obituary where the loss begins.

How do you explain voices in your head from a dead person?

How do you explain the smell of your ex-lover in your room?

How do you hear a meowing of cat that is long gone?

I carry loss with me,

Everywhere, every time,

Each loss having their own personalities.

Sometimes it’s a tea party,

Where we can laugh.

But does that last forever?

Ask anyone, it doesn’t.

Can you feel that weight on your chest?

Feet? Arms? Fingers? Eyes?

Is there someone holding you down?

Did you check under the bed? Behind the doors? Inside your memory?

Questions without answers, answers without questions

Is the loop of loss, I reckon.

Well, in the end, we can make friends with our monsters,

And all monsters are not scary,

A lot of them are heavy,

Like unwanted mosquitoes when you want to fall asleep,

But they come back every night.

So what do you think?

Why is loss weightless and heavy all at once?

Why do we have this loop?

How do you end this loop?

-the end-

Poetry for Thought

Title: June

You didn’t send me your overly seductive birthday message.

And I find myself wondering if this is (finally) over between us,

This dance of conversation between the silences.

I found myself reading our old messages, emails – filled with promises,

“I will never stop loving you”

“You make me better”

“I’m sorry for being an asshole, but you are the best thing that happened to me, and I will never stop loving you”

You and me are a faint memory now, the relationship,

But between those blurry flashbacks,

Some stand out like a flood light, lighting up my weakest and strongest moments.

You, my love, are light and dark,

An addiction and a rehab,

I want to hurl abuses at you,

And at the same time….

Pull you close into a warm embrace.

I’m jaded now; carefully stitching words to all the new people I meet,

I didn’t say ‘I love you’ to one lover until we broke up.

I’m jaded now;

I say ‘I love you’ to everyone, afraid of losing them.

So is it finally over between us?

Poetry for thought

title:
How to ache?

It aches sometimes,

Or maybe it aches all the time,

Maybe the ache has always been there,

Maybe it hides behind all the motions of life.

Life must be lived I am told over and over,

But how do you live, when there is a hurt, an ache,

Always searching a wound to penetrate,

Searching for a way to exist, exit.

Which means, every situation, every moment,

In the algorithm of the mind, it must answer to this ache,

The mind must find a way to release this into the world,

Or keep it within, having lonesome conversations,

Inside the ever changing world of ideas, beliefs, emotions, blood vessels…

The mind and the ache have many conversations,

Most often the mind wins, the heart cajoles, sings lullabies,

The mind beams a proud smile,

Watching the ache bloom into a flower.

Like a parent, the mind and heart know that this isn’t over,

There are more conversations to come,

Life will spiral, the mind and heart will need to learn new things,

New languages, new worlds will be presented in front of them,

While I keep living, learning and listening,

The mind and heart keep a watchful eye.

But the ache, like a wilted flower will show up,

With tears streaming, with anger raging, and silence screaming.

Poetry for thought

Title: Silence

YouTube plays a song that I heard when I hardly heard your voice.

When you were far away,

Even in these notorious times of technological connections.

“Invest in cuddles, and not conversations,” I said, yesterday.

And today I am craving for all those conversations we never had,

And even more so for those silences.

Though we were silent, it was in separation.

Silence in togetherness has its own melody,

Its own dance, its own memory.

As the song comes to an end, so does this verse.

We have drifted far from that month long, self-imposed exile,

From our love, our silences, our cuddles and everything in between.

And here we are today, in silence, but together.

Poetry for thought

Title: Imagination

Imagination doesn't suffice on a day like today,

Today should be spent falling asleep under trees,

With your hand in my hair,

Collecting smiles, watching the colour Red

Dancing in your eyes.

With every gaze, I fall apart,

And with every smile,

You put me back together,

Give me all those smiles,

I'll bottle them up and keep them for cold nights.

On days like today, imagination doesn’t suffice,

I close my eyes and I can feel your breath at my neck,

But you aren’t here and I am not there,

But imagination… is a bitch, makes you want it

Right now. Right here.

On a day like today, you should be here,

Distracting me, teasing me,

Leaving me struggling for air,

Did I mention?

Imagination doesn’t suffice on a day like today.

I am left wondering if I would forget how you smile,

And I am being greedy with memories,

Trying to always remember,

Replaying them over and over and over….

Because, you know, imagination doesn’t suffice,

9 January, 2018

Poetry for thought

Title: Good Morning

Wake up, lover.
Look, the sun is streaming in,
Drawing patterns on your skin,
Warming corners under my fingers.

While I move the covers away from you,
Here take my naked chest for warmth.
Stay warm, lover,
I am just getting started.

Your naked stomach,
Against my naked chest,
Your hand in my hair,
Are you falling asleep again?

That’s alright, lover,
Stay warm,
While my fingers find your soft nipple,
Don’t open your eyes yet.

This half asleep, half awake
Moment is my favourite,
While I part your legs slowly,
Stay warm, lover.

I am just getting started,
Your warm skin against my lips,
At the curve of your waist,
Making my body warmer.

I want to stay slow,
Keep you drowsy,
But I am thirsty,
And this proximity is driving me insane.

I take you into my mouth,
Now, your eyes wide open,
Tug at my hair harder, lover,
Show me where to go.

Are you awake?
Are you warm?
I am just getting started.

21 December, 2017

Poetry for thought

Title: Pictures

I want to send you pictures,
Disconnecting in this connected world is hard.
So.
I want to send you pictures.

But will these pictures ever tell you those thousand words they are supposed to?
Proverbs are being questioned now.

Let's not digress.
I want to send you pictures,
Of my day, of my face, of my hips, of my skin.

And you ask me for them,
For the fleeting moments in my day.
I willingly submit to your demands.

But will these pictures ever tell you those thousand words they are supposed to?

Well, they don't tell you things like -
The flowers are blooming here and you should touch them.
The flowers are just background fillers in the picture I send you.
But you should be here looking at them,
And me looking at you.

But.
But..
But...
I still want to send you pictures,
Maybe some day
The words will come back,
And pictures will scream,
And they will tell stories.

And I will be listening to you
Reliving those pictures.

Poetry for thought

Title: Lurking

Lurking.

You are lurking in my mind.

I should be thankful that

you are not lurking in my bed.

Melancholy.

Deep, deep sadness.

It grips me in those moments

that you lurk into my mind.

Miserable.

I am so very miserable.

Your memories are making ripples

in oceans that are already wild.

Desirable.

Miserable desires.

Poetry for thought

Title: Of Lovers.

I miss that weight of another person on me.

When they’re kissing me, with hands searching.

With hands desperate, but mouths gentle.

Do you remember that?

That feeling of carrying another person’s weight?

Those soft creaks and moans from your body?

I can’t breathe suddenly, but you cant stop kissing either.

I miss it; the warmth, the sweat, the search.

Slowly the weight becomes nothing.

All we have left is instinct.

And with it, we go places and take holidays in our minds.

In our bodies. In our dreams after.

I really miss that instinct to spread my legs at their will.

Their slow soft kisses, leading me, teasing me.

Their rushed breaths, almost tearing my skin.

I miss that weight of another person on me.

Around me, spinning legs like they are vines.

Humming lullabies and I love yous.

I miss them all.

Desitined to dream of them all.

And of all those to come.

Poetry for thought

Title: Reality

I am feeling sexual today,

Also angry,

Also sad,

And mostly confused.

I want to smell your sweat,

Dripping off my forehead,

While I find that spot

Under your left breast.                           

I want to unravel this,

Erase all memory of us,

While I slowly break down

Into this pool of angry mess.

Tears well up,

Crawl through my fingertips,

While I try to find a breath

And fail.

The imagination of your left breast,

Thoughts of our tangled feet,

While I slowly wipe away the reality

Off my forehead…

Wait,

Which is real?

The anger? The tears?

The sweat that appears suddenly

On my palms,

Which is real?

I hold my face in my hands,

Not just hold, but grip,

Which is real?

And I try to grab the imagination

To blend it with this sad and angry reality.

Forms merge, order becomes chaos,

Chaos becomes breathing,

Breathing.

Breathing.

Breathing.

Is it me? Is it you?

Chaos, calm,

Earth shattering,

And then.

The shush.

Flashes of my hands shaking,

My lips searching,

My anger brewing,

Eyes closing, sunlight burning,

Moonlight calming.

Flashes, flashes,

Lines blur,

Breathing.

Breathing.

In. out. In. out.

Stay still, maybe now we’ll know

Which is real.

2016 rant

So many words are bursting to come out. But I am finding it so hard to express.

Words are shouting, poems are whispering in my ear and stories are waiting to be told, impatiently.

So here I am just trying to do a traditional blog post after a long time, maybe it is just a rant as well.

Well, considering it is the end of 2016, let’s talk about the year that went by, shall we?

What ended and started as a tough year, has now come to a sort of neutral space. My heart and brain was all over the place, last week too! Love found, love lost, new discoveries have happened, which is a good thing, one year is a long time no? some changes are welcome, some not so much..

Though I am hopeful for the next year, as I was for this year.

One thing that I really want to work on is cutting people off or finding better boundaries for people. Let’s face it, I am too nice, I don’t say goodbyes well and that brings a whole lot of other drama that I don’t need. So, cut off when needed and draw lines when needed and stick to them! We all have too much going on and we need to recognize that someone is negative and we need to say goodbye. It is going to hurt, confuse and leave you lonely, but but but but… it will also give you peace and allow you to find that positivity is goes missing along the way.

I really really want to start focusing on music. In whatever way, go to more gigs, discover more music, hang out with musicians and whatever else I can do to stay connected!

Definitely MORE WRITING!! I am going to write more, this is the most important thing right now!

For now this rant ends…. But I want to hear from you!

What did you learn? Or unlearn? Tell me your story? :)

Poetry for Thought

Trying to put together a thought process, TRYING. might have failed, you are welcome to help me articulate :)

Title: Friendly

I don’t want to fall head first in love,

Why can’t we start with being friends?

Did you love your friend the day you met them?

That intense deep love.

No; it took you years to say I love you.

So, I want to be friends,

Maybe we can kiss,

Maybe we can get naked,

But I don’t want to love you.

Not instantly,

Not head over heels,

Losing myself suddenly.

Years would pass,

And then we’d be friends,

And then you’d meet the real me,

And fall in love again.

Why won’t you meet me now?

And let me meet you?

Why jump, when we can walk a bit longer.

Let’s get to know each other,

And then love will come easily.

Leave that “in love” at the door,

And let’s be friends.

Do you want to get flirty and friendly with me?