Obsession: Raven’s Milk

29 09 2010

Double clicking. Pecking at the keyboard. Automaton of attention. Solely directed towards you—a word, an imagined lover, friend, a foreign country, an image, a myth. Repeat. Repeat. Search. Search. Still intensity lingers until frustration mounts like boiling milk. Given enough air, the milk lies flat and slowly becomes putrid and rancid. Reflection brings frustration of wasted time of an unrelieved reception. Unmet expectation reeks of expired cream. Obsession a highway of continuous -gasm fades into a horizon of ravens.

A plume of black soaked in unmet expectations. Beak scratched. Talons taken. Feebly lies the body of the bird once majestic. Entangled in wires of obsession. Squaks speak of silenced desire as night sneaks upon the wounded soul. Nearby those untouched fly with freedom. The branches bleed green in moonlight as the weight of the free break the fragile covers of the forest. Moonlight paths trace the stars grace to a pond of milk, a pool of night’s orgasm. Glistening feathers moving muteless and weightless through brisk bright darkness close and glide to shore. Startled to see such murkiness, distorted reflection frustrates free soul who attacks blurred self.



29 09 2010

Hair –hideous, oily, rough, frizzy, tentacles of the self. Thousands fall and tremble unnoticed, as thoughts of vanity fly underneath this basin of logic. Inside the follicle lies the folly of ourselves—DNA spirals trapped inside protein protected strands. If the follicles could communicate what would they say? Would they revolt against the logic binding them to the scalp? Would these colonies of hair organize and declare autonomy living like lichen in our living room floors laughing at the nakedness of its old host? Do we owe the patterns of DNA our attention and gratitude despite their grip on our personality? When we pull back our hair are we subconsciously pulling on reins that control who we are? Can we alter the course our DNA will lead us?

Attraction: Splintered See Saw or a Deluge?

25 09 2010

Appearance like shadows on the skin shed leaving traces of beauty behind as memories. Between wooden panels, beads of sweat communicate awe and ask for acceptance. Admirers admit attraction. What is the basis for such confessions? Desire? Validation? An initiation of communication? As relationships see saw between comfort, love, and acceptance, attraction continues its chase between groin and heart. It binds and ties together mysterious souls till the boards of the body bend or crack. Willing emotion flows surrounding us—asking us to define our paths with each other. Seeped in the heart’s tea, reason absorbs the desire of the body. If we soaked our heart in reason what would become of us?

Attraction to others contains neutral implications to our current relationships. Experiencing this beyond our partner/partners may indicate a certain desired trait is lacking or it may remind us of what we so lovingly desire of our current partner. Feelings are not ponds or lakes bonded by societal levees instead they move beyond over and under the landscape of our lives. They are our deluge– unearthing the seed of our earthly selves speaking to how we can creatively save us. Reason nails us to a splintered existence. Too often we become dry and airy devoid of humidity blowing too easily towards the nearest bar.

Forgotten Silk of Naivete

25 09 2010

Naiveté exists in caterpillars and joeys—in their cocoons and pouches metamorphous occurs silently away from light heat and dust. A surreal almost clinical earthen bubble prevents these creatures from experiencing the plight so many of us intoxicate ourselves in order to forget. How do we cultivate a childlike naiveté that flutters away from the gravel of society’s judgments? Those who appear naïve and innocent must not really possess any real innocence but instead must choose to perceive differently. If only we could perceive ourselves as caterpillars crawling, chewing, and changing in accordance to our internal natural law rather than abiding by societal demands.