Tag Archives: self

Watering can

I feel like I have lost my words, an infallible dulling of the mind. And so I have begun to study them in all their multiplicity, colloquial lilt and marvel at the havoc they wreak when a poet or fire starter dare use them as an aberrant risk, forsaking semantics for depth. It reminds me of why I need fragments of language, so that I can, in all my capacity, describe these feelings pouring out, as if from the spout of a watering can. They  do not flood but pour and drizzle, so many all at once…pristine or murky with sand and soil. I need them, if not my sentience and experiences shall all but melt inside of me, succumbing to forgetfulness. I have to remember, for I am alive and I am here, filling that bottomless watering can and growing lilies, chrysanthemums and African violets to the best of my ability.

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My apoLogIES

Lately, I have been struggling to be comfortable with someone who claims to be my friend. This individual happens to judge the book by its cover far too quickly and it’s tiring to defend your lifestyle, choices, preferences and decisions to a person who has no right to ask and pass judgment. I really can’t stand the holier-than-thou mentalities some people allow to infect their mind, poisoning it in turn. And then these people spread that poison to others and I feel that is happening to me and a few others I know.

I had no idea we must craft so many apologies for the act of being ourselves.

And that is what inspired this…

My apoLogIES

I drink tea instead of coffee

I apologise for my choice

I want to go outside, breathe in fresh air rather than sit in a stuffy place

I apologise for my preference

I read historical fiction in a corner

I apologise for my taste

And in the end I shall repent for being myself

But those apologies are lies

Told to appease your sick mind

 

Because I listen when you say something

I take you into consideration

I try with you, I do

And for that I truly apologise

For your speech is worth not attention but neglect

The words are not worth the time with you

The book loses its voice

The song loses its tone

The beauty is without essence

and I lose my being

In your poisonous presence

 

I apologise for being me

Unaware it is a crime

bearing a lifetime penalty

That you disbelievingly impose

You, me, me you

We judge alike and oppose

One another

Till I too become a monster

That looks none other

Than you as reflection

And for that I shudder

 

When I no longer apologise

but instead eat, breathe and live

my lies.