My Purpose

Esoteric:- private; secret; confidential; only for special people, like you :)

Saturday, 12 May 2012

A poem I wrote quite a while ago that is apart of my Wife Series:

The Wild Man’s Wife

HAHAHA laughed the wild old man
and aimed his rifle between his heart and mine
this romance balances on a needle and thread
too fragile for his liking or mine
he wished mistakes could be undone
down the line and the past rewind
so he shoots the cat lives nine, no fun
for him or for me
HAHAHA laughed the wild old man
his white beard sprouts in direction seven
one for each of my hands a pair:
hands that pray to heaven
hands the clay do mould
hands that sold
hands that gave
hands that forgave
hands that forget
and hands that regret
they dance around his shoulders
hands that clay do moulder
and tip toe through the night
and held on a leash by day
so my avatar is a puppet to his insane game, no fun
for him or for me
HAHAHA dead the wild man’s wife
on and on my death bed lay
staring through wild eyes - no life
in a coffin moulded in clay
too fragile for his liking or mine
he wished mistakes could be undone
down the line and the past rewind
so he shoots the cat lives nine, no fun
for him

Thursday, 10 May 2012

A Meeting, with God

You called to me
I responded
I fell asleep
And you awakened me
It is incredible, because
When I awoke, I was completely awake
In one second
I opened my eyes
And my head was as clear as day
Yet it was 2:45 in the morning
I turned on the lamp, and
You told me to pray
And 15 minutes later
You were standing in front of me
I didn’t recognize who you were, at first
You came so quietly
But when I actually looked, into your face
All I could see was your light
The radiance enveloped me
Waves of love permeated me
And I had no words
I just purred like a cat being stroked
Hummed in bliss
Breathed, for the first time
In the white brilliance, I could
See shimmers of different colours
After some time you spoke
So gently
You reached for a painting I did not own
You showed me
The image was faded and tired
And you said
“Don’t let the painting fade, don’t let your dream of becoming an artist die”
I sat there, still absorbing your love
You softly left
And I, without thinking
Opened my eyes
Turned off the lamp
Went back to sleep
And didn’t tell anyone, for months
Something so huge, to comprehend

Chaff Huff

Set me atop a sundrenched ziggurat
Listen as the rain trickles down my temple of heaven
This place was built by farmers
As their quiet selves adjusted straw hats
And went to work, plowing fields
Don’t ask me how the formula goes
All I know is the situation
The plump wheat grew high
And the yellow straws wrapped and entangled
A passionate embrace
The final scenario
Was a castle, unfolding like a parasol
Exploring the flavour, of the summer’s radiance
My architecture has many roofs
More ceilings and numerous staircases
That only go up
But I am afraid, snakes go down
A muralist lived here once, so did etymologist
So illustrator, so doctor
They come and go
But I remain
I can make many things into flesh
-       Autumn leaves, summer, harmony
But can I locate pre-made humanity
That fits with my puzzle?
The ridge of me, the edge of you
The systems function far better
I just stay in my tower
Made of nature’s string
And pray the wolf that preys
Isn’t all that big-bad
And if he does blow
With every puff of wind I’ll spin
And through a network of connections
He will himself be grinded into bread
The mill and the butcher’s shop
I can be
I do hope that my heaven temple
Can resist change
But wouldn’t it be glorious
If my Babel were to fall
All that yellow grass
My kingdom of hay
Tumbling back to earth
Collapsing as cymbals clashes
I could be chaff in the wind
Let me leave right now
Through the back door
As the sun sets on yesterday
With long shadows leading
I’ll go on the run
Here’s hoping my tower
Is not a wheeled creation
A locomotive of automatic nature
Instantaneously suggesting my capture to itself
And agreeing, determining my demise
Then my dire situation
Might lead me to surrender
Giving up the chase
The fortress, I would hate
The price of protection, is freedom
Safe in my prison
Who new this cereal was made of bricks?
But perhaps If I light a little fire
Paint the town red
Or just send a signal
For help.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Take me there
It’s where I want to be
In the forest, far away
Away from the wars of everyday
My eyes open, sing
Take me there
It’s where I want to be