Reflecting back on my youth until present, whether it was paint, drawing, music or writing even building and fabricating, none of it could occur without an underlying gnawing of agitation.
Agitation of the mind, heart or soul, something had to be agitated for art to manifest.
Prelude to Almond Geisha
For years I wanted to apologise,
Like a coward,
To the platform I couldn’t rise,
Confess my regret and sorrow,
My haunted memories,
Of watching your cheeks etch from welled eyes.
Alas last night I had the dream,
That made writing,
Flow like a stream,
For all the words to wash,
To the shore,
And prose to be my profession seem.
So Almond Geisha,
This morning I wrote,
I couldn’t let go of the pen and note,
Poured my heart into every page,
Inked it well,
Scattered love in air to float.
Hoping the southern winds would take,
Across the suburbs,
Through leaves to rake,
And rustle beneath your window tree,
Rise slowly, tap gently,
On your window to wake.
From scattered sheets you rise to read,
Crying, forgiving, asking God to plead,
That love is reborn,
And it nurtures again,
Water, sunlight, and plant the seed.
Today I had a dream of you,
Only it wasn’t a dream when I woke up.
Instead, I know it to be an expunging of my innermost soul,
Manifest to my present thoughts,
My eyes just happened to be closed.
Like an architect of love,
I draw plans on how I am to walk up to you,
And I scrap it.
I draw plans on what I would say to you but the structure is not right, And I scrap it.
I draw plans on how I will look at you,
Beg of you but I scrap them all,
Because my plans all go out the door,
Once I get smacked in the face with one look from you.
The day I broke your heart,
You have no idea what I did to mine.
You’re the reason why no other woman can enjoy my heart again,
No more do I roll off the: ‘I love you’s’ with ease.
No more do I caress faces just to tease,
No more do I lay spooning with no desire,
But to wake in the morning with a face full of your hair,
Oh that hair,
Incessant, stubborn curls,
You hated them but I adored them,
You always wanted to straighten them,
But I loved the way you wore them,
Long draping curls like falling autumn browns,
Almond Geisha eyes is what I remember you as,
You made me forget every woman on the face of the earth,
With one whiff of your neck.
D&G never smelt as good on anyone else.
My nose in your neck,
I architect that all the time.
So I knocked on your door,
You opened with a look of ‘I knew you’d do this one day’,
But a look that said ‘I wanted you to,
But now I will pretend not to want it,
But deep down I really want it,
But I’m going to make you hurt,
The way you made me hurt,
Because seeing how much you hurt,
Makes me love you more,
And I want to love you more,
I want to feel your pain,
And you to feel mine,
We’re not sadistic enough as it is,
Until we drive each other down to our levels,
Or in this case up to our levels’,
If you know love.
Yep, she gave me that look,
Love’s messy like that. Don’t fret if you don’t get it.
I begged some more,
We began to walk,
We began to talk,
Like nothing had ever happened,
She’d brush her hand against me now and then,
Making out like it was casual
And not intended,
I was cool with pretending.
We both knew it was meant,
We were just cautious with the messages we sent,
She kept at it though,
She made more effort than me,
Like she was starved for a touch,
That would send quivers to her knees.
I reciprocated in kind,
I’ve become weary of games of the mind.
And as I suspected,
It’s what she expected.
Almond Geisha all goo in my arms,
This time I’m not moulding,
I’m just holding.
Autumn browns wafting past my nose,
As the beach air tries to take what’s mine.
THIEF, STOP, THIEF, STOP
That scent is mine and mine alone,
But oceans away I can’t smell it,
And it’s not because the fragrance is obsolete.
Yes, I scaled the perfume stores,
I worked in the industry for years,
At the top of the chain trying to find it,
Alas to no avail.
It doesn’t matter,
It’s not the perfume that made you,
It’s your pheromone laden neck that made the perfume.
It doesn’t matter what you wear,
It will intoxicate me.
Like Qays was called a madman for scathing walls for Layla,
He talked to the walls,
He caressed them because he could smell her fragrance on them,
I too am going mad retracing steps I took with you,
And I smell you,
I feel you,
Your aura etched into the ambience of the surroundings forever.
I can’t stop,
Anywhere I go there is a memory of you.
Into the asylum of the destitute throw me please,
If it means that the world acknowledges your ability,
To trap a man,
And I am trapped,
So by rights this acknowledgement will set me free,
For you all see,
How she holds me,
And too tired to flee.
The dream continues,
Now that I am walking near you,
Now you can feel I’m still alive and have life for you,
You ache in your sternum,
Because like me you have someone in your life,
Like a fiend,
Knowing we can’t betray the trust of others.
Others we’ve both accustomed to,
Even though we urge for more.
The dream comes to an end,
With waves crashing around us,
The sound of gulls in the sky circling,
Waiting an announcement,
For one of us to let go.
They’re all staring at us,
Urging us to move on,
As if the earth can’t revolve until we disengage.
So be it,
The world can stop for all I care,
If it means I get to smell,
Almond Geisha’s hair.
My size precedes me.
Say my name and people envision a hard time. A large guy with an ability to talk, conviction backed by brutality backed by humility, now there’s something to ponder over.
‘They can’t exist together’, you say.
Stereotypes of what should or shouldn’t be swarm your mind,
Overwhelm you until your mind collapses,
Your spirit bent over and I knee it to its head.
Beads of sweat fountain out of you,
Buts it’s not sweat,
It’s arrogance, it’s your prejudice,
It’s your lack of compassion.
I built this body on purpose! Not for show, but for purpose.
I can verbose with you ad naseum about the health benefits,
How I will outlive live the average person, how I can crush the average person, albeit all in a perfect world.
But the reason I built it, I have come to discover is to keep you all away, I had to dig that one out on my own.
Whilst your fingers jab away at keyboards,
You comment and opine,
You sit your behind,
You snort the cathartic line
Of social approval, conformist, online.
I learned to close my fists, feeling it viscerally,
Violence on flesh,
The real kind,
That’s done and dusted when one of us falls,
I don’t care for your flaws,
Man up and own them all,
Look up from the screen to see past the scores.
And multitudes of panderist’s, of safety network enforcers, of appeasers and cheer leaders.
Some people swear they are introverts,
Swear they like being alone but their guard is down.
I see their body language. They invite you all in willingly.
They don’t have the requisite guarded posture of an introvert.
Stay the fuck away from me. I’m pleasant, left alone.
Don’t come knocking and expect a half arsed attempt of insincere welcome.
Don’t come knocking expecting me to tell you my life’s grievances or what I heard or what I did on the weekend.
Don’t come knocking expecting cordiality and mutual acceptance if there is something I disagree with.
Really, I’m this big because I want to keep you away,
For your own sake, not mine.
Part of it is Gods work, I didn’t choose this height.
Maybe HE wants you to keep away.
However, the width and girth is my work.
The ability to fight you off with ease,
The ability to challenge your mind and break you down with my incessant pestering at the obsessive, compulsive details because you’re only happy if we only lament the surface trivialities,
Yeah, that’s my work too.
So step up,
Step up if you have the gall,
Talk to me, I dare you to climb the wall.
Maybe if you did, you’d be let inside and realise this large cavity I have created was to be able to house as many of you,
Securely and passionately.
Yes there is a wall, it’s high but if you have claws and feet, you can climb in, come over that wall, and be secure within its confines.
Maybe I purposely built it that high to only allow those with real drive, with sincere intentions inside.
Last two post didn’t work too well. So here it is again.
Reblogged from here:
You can watch it here: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/wearepoets
Pulls all the right strings
Emel Mathlouthi – Naci en Palestina آمال مثلوثي: http://youtu.be/Dsfv3dy5VdA
Absolutely floored me. This guy has talent to boot.