Tag: poem

Aim and release infinite

i.

04.agosto.2022


Dear,

Why does life feel like a perpetual state of discovering things you’re unhappy with? We then make a choice to do bare minimum in order to change our circumstances or we take a leap of faith.
Is coping honourable? unashamedly rapturous? or downright purgatory?
God and Satan smile upon us with their fictitious teeth.

I swear that pretension is not my aim my dear, in fact I shield myself with metaphors and verse. I don’t swear to anything or against anything, I just mean it wholeheartedly in this moment.
My aim is clarity, it’s the most humbling feeling and I regularly release and miss but I keep aiming and releasing til the target is hit once more. Not many people account for the same target to move, why is that? You hit it once but then it moved so you have to hit it at this new location.

[Let my silence speak volumes for I am restless with speech.]

Yours

The First Intention

iv.

19.luglio.2022


Dear,
In the error of our bodies, we’re too cruel, cruel to one another and in that cruelty we are selfish and unjust; you have done no wrong dear, you must accept.

You shed a tear for my lack of punishment towards you; you have done no wrong dear, you rest your head.

The day is honest and my mind is clear, this is no race for us to place in; you’ve done no wrong dear, you close your eyes.

I sit and contemplate, my greatest skill but not so fond of my mind at the best of times. I see the light in you, I see the light in others but their light is not the same as yours and mine; you’ve only wronged yourself dear, your light still shines so bright.

The parasol tarp loosens under the stress of heat, all creation bows uncontrollably to the conditions and tries its damned hardest to relieve its state. I’m with the knowledge that this is only the beginning of our unbearable heat. We should find someplace cool to look upon each other and say nothing at all. We can talk when the sun has set and our lungs fill with clean air.

[Your aura has a coolness that is not compatible with today’s tribulations; our pores chokes on the dry saltless fumes. The hot still city air.]

Yours faithfully