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Posts Tagged ‘direction’

Verges means being pushed to the edge.

Like you are being confronted at a knife point

and you just can’t turn around but to dive

into that abyss while you don’t know how deep it was.

You always say that you can’t let them ruin you

but it’s a plain lie you wish that all is perfect.

 

If only you can cut the wire and kiss the voltage.

If only you can let the rope grip around the neck.

If only you can break the mirror and embrace danger.

Would it change a thing? Ah but no, you just go on

struggling with your inner demons and chase them

wielding that sword to cut-off somebody else’s head.

 

For you, everyday is a waging battle of wits and reason.

Perfection is costly. Holiness is fatal. Which one are you?

Nobody is born a saint and you won’t believe it too?

Do you suppose to expect the world will applaud a hero?

You raised the bar too high and it left you there isolated

basking in your self-proclaimed brand of narcissism.

 

Tell me now then, how it hurts to held onto the razor’s edge.

Or screaming mad in silence when you temporarily got insane.

Does it worth to feed people’s expectations and drag your feet

into that unending precipice while you can’t discern the apex?

Excuse my French, but I think you need to stop this disillusion.

Take a turn towards the direction where your heart leads you.

 

You might be a simple man- confident and unpretentious. Free.

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How long would you hide your true feelings?

You wish to say something but the words swerved

to its opposite direction-sugarcoating the angst

frothing bittersweet at your mouth verbalizing

 

euphemism.

 

Say what you really mean.  Look me

in the eye and cut through your razor

sharp, spine-tingling voice into my face.

Don’t let me read between the lines.

 

Just to make your point mark deep

into the recesses of my consciousness.

Leave me bleeding. You’re the best

pretender that I have seen.

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A balladeer sings a song.

Serenading his heart’s reflection

in wine glasses rippling its rhythm

navigating strange passages

of tenderness that filled

water canals of romance

he witnessed everyday.

 

His voice knows the direction

where to bring new lovers

bowled over by the moon

and the stars, sailing

their feelings away.

Smooth gliding inch

closer to tranquil

crying of a love lost.

He forgot, almost.

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It won’t be as black

as my umbrella I forgot

the weather I carried around me.

My eye bags were  like cumulus cloud

hanging low, grey and heavy

moving slow hovering thoughts

you won’t know what I am trying

to get over underneath. I expect

 

rain showers drop down its pellets.

And the prevailing wind will keep

nagging my peace of thunderstorms

and lightning, intermittently

piercing montages of grief

into the continuity of my sleep.

 

I had lost track where the wind vane

points a direction towards depression.

I forgot how to regulate the flow

of the emotional flash flood I contain.

And here I am with my lonely forecasts.

The weather disturbance I blame

when the sun won’t smile up

on me, again.

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Not a soul passes by but me

cradled on this steel machine

hugging the asphalt hard

chase the broken lines

fading into the infinite sky.

 

I see the tyre burning marks

like tattoos criss-crossing,

shifts of directions of going

and coming into your life.

 

A rugged kind of art

you have mastered

with speed. I surrender

to freedom, leaving

traces indelibly

creating loops-

togetherness

under heat

pressed

suffocated

in our bodies.

 

Raw, savagely

carefree.

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My hands perspire from the grip

I need to loosen up.  Bringing in the air

to these burning palms laid down from commanding-

life directions in the intersection of good and bad.

The right from wrong.  I twist and turn in indecision.

Bending  and yielding.  Speeding up and slowing down.

I try to break down the clods of earth

from forming  into mounds of rock.

I try to make a path through the grass

and keep the weeds from growing.

 

I try to calm down my reflexes and think

that the tyres won’t leave the road

and it’ll continue chasing the horizon

until that cul-de-sac to begin again

turning in circles. I gave up the throne,

to allow the changing of hands

of the driver seat into that passenger,

I surrender for the first time. Watching

someone else’s lording over the brakes 

and keep moving the distances away.

Away from  myself.  Trusting.

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Farther and farther apart

the road stretches oppositely

into two directions. I came

to home only to find I did

not belong there anymore.

 

Strangers fill the rooms,

I keep communing with ghosts.

Speaking to the walls and floors

absorbing echoes and heartbeats

from a dying man.

 

Like a bird lost in migration

without a nest to lay its wings.

Through the labyrinth of dreams

I am not yet found.

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