Tag: listen

Cold Fusion of the Mind

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Cold fusion plugging my artery
Making its way into my brain
Locked in embrace
With two swines for dinner
Make me a salad if you please.

And a winedrop
Caressing the glass window
Spilled over with a passionate moment
Left a gray cloud
Hovering closely
To the carved portrait on the wall
With graceful messages
In times of need
To all those who took to listen.

And I never left the door open
To invite all the neighbours
Though they took all the mail
And ate the fridge dry
I wore my best suits
And tied my own tie.

Who listened when the podcasts were turned on?
Will the beet juice stain
Each keyboard with fury
Slowly running down the lips
Of the sweetheart
With eyes of translocation
Heavy on my mind.

Upon This Spot (day 3039)

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Here, my dear
Let us take to rest,
Let us close our eyes and listen
To distant gulls and wind blowing
In the air so clear it’s effervescent
As we lay upon this grass
Freshly cut just so.
I wonder how, in times of y’or,
Two lovers could walk a path
Taking them to a similar clearing
Groundskeeper had made avail.
Or would they wander
Amidst a forest
Criss-crossed with paths
To and From
Neighbours seeking neighbours.
How lucky we are
To share a spot
Sunlight here, so dear.
Your cheek resting so close to mine
Lips so tender here.
Let us take this moment
To talk of what wonders we dare,
To have you lay close in my arms.
Your sun the warmth in my heart
You near, my very cheer.

Telegraphy (day 2950)

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I found you in the golden era of telegraphy
Long you swept, hard you clicked
We always, forever, kept quite a line
That bounced us as if ever worn
Ever tried, ever sent and ever received.
I waited, listened, you spoke and I heard
We danced to the tune of crispy crackles
Little quips
And we never closed our doors
For we heard, and that was enough.

Why (day 2790)

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I ask myself why
Not knowing I’ve never known

Can the silence exist
Though no soul partakes
To let the other side be felt?

Through screens
And irrational blank spots
I rush
To no spell I have listened to.

By my wild eyes
I have come here to exist;
There, too,
Shall running scenes
Invoke my childishness.

Listening To Meanings (day 2407)

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You know
I’m standing here
Trying to listen to you
Trying to break out
Of my vision
Crooked and skewed
To a daylight
I see arching over Doi Suthep
In rose filled monograms.
A lava lamp of discussion
Concentrates my colliders
That don’t give me a chance
To deconstruct meanings.
No,
A flow has taken
Over a system of flutters,
My boredom insulting purity
That rocks back and forth
And forgetting
Once again
An understated meaning.

You’re Perfect (day 1958)

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When I say you’re perfect
I mean it from the whole of my essence
From my tingling toes
To each breath I excitedly (and deeply) inhale,
From my deepest lost fantasy
To each lightly placed finger tip
That crawls every imagination I’ve got.
Your perfection seeds my stillness
That captures me in your grace.
Your wrong is not a wrong,
Your wrong is effort in my eyes
That nurtures your blossom,
Imagination takes your fancy
And lifts your spirit,
Infecting me like a perfect vision,
A serpent,
A sun rising from the horizon
Inch by inch warming my open eyes
To the miracle of a new day.
Your perfection isn’t in your perfect action,
Or your perfect features,
Or your perfect voice or perfect success,
Your perfection lies within your being.
Your perfection lies within your effort
That dances as you know how to dance
Over obstacles and through conversations,
That listens and speaks and shares and fights
And bruises and hurts and feels and bites.
Perfection is you, not the sum of your doings,
It stays with you as you go,
And returns again tomorrow,
It follows you into your messiest of days
And shadows you as you run.
When I say that you’re perfect,
It doesn’t hinge on how you treat me
Or what you bring me as a gift,
It doesn’t depend on your generosity
Or how close you hold my hand,
No, I mean it without you even knowing me
And I mean it as you walk upon your path,
I mean it as you say goodbye
And wave me our last kiss.

lisa-2

More or Less (day 1636)

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Listening to me. Listening to feelings transpose into logic at a thousand frames per second. Listening to a new widow sigh on a train into dark night.

With your help I have gone a step beyond. An echo off in the distance as a bat flaps it’s wings in pure silence. But my heartbeat has become deafening, your pulse as elixir.

Listening to me delicately tap echoing waves into a silent-still pond, fireflies becoming breath upon my eyes here aglow. And a memory, just like you said: life is not more less.