The birth of a poem...

The essence of very tiny detail, like a carefully placed comma, or an invisible sigh of admiration, distilled into dewdrops sliding over the long green leaves that protect tulips from overexposure, redeeming the beautiful bold color and adding a dimension of its own.

Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.

The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...



Monday, August 8, 2011

C2H5OH Unlimited

The transparent bottle and the green optical illusion of the liquid, dancing, boiling inside is real.
Eyes open wide, not really looking at anything in particular. The strength to admit weakness is all there.
Vulnerable, fragile as the glass. Yet craving poison, because too much honey is nauseating.

All those faces, they give the impression of misguided youth and naivete`. Little do they know.

The Joker keeps his little secrets. One by one they appear in the morning mirror. Accusing looks and pointed fingers. You could have done better. You could have done more. You could have doubled that.

Just smash the mirror. Send those shards all over the bathroom floor, send panic in the house, blood on your hand, on your clenched fist, red knuckles of defeat, blood on the rug and tears in your eyes. Stains on your soul.

Tainted spirit and green transparency. Reality unlimited in free flow.
Why?
There's never an answer to that, or it is extremely personal. And as they worry about you, you cannot blame them, you gave them a reason to worry, to watch your steps, to be awkward around you. Is it helping? Nobody knows.

Ask the bottle. Some day it'll meet the same fate as the mirror. There'll be a mess. The police will be called. They'll intervene, cracking glass shards as they move in on you. And you'll remember the early mornings, once upon a time, when it was all right.

The cell has no mirrors. It gives you time to give it a thought.
What exactly did go wrong between then and now?
And why you?

All the broken glass in the world cannot balance out your soul. And there's no law against a broken soul. As long as you keep it in.



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