Living Out Dreams

Yesterday the thought came to me. Another relationship bit the dust; and the thought came to me: where is true love? Is there such a thing as true love?

A year ago I was still this little, naive girl who saw the world through her pink glasses. I believed that people are basically good, that we can always trust others. I knew that there are bad people out there, but somehow I trusted it that they didn't exist in my own-built-world; they couldn't exist. The worst thing is, I believed that there would come the time when I meet the one who will love me with all his heart, the one whom I can love back also with all my heart.

I thought loving someone means always doing it with the whole of your energy, like Elizabeth Browning said in one of her poems, " [...] with depth and breadth and height my soul can reach [....]" I believed her fully. I believed it would come in my way. I always imagined how beautiful it would be, to be able to pour someone your love that way..., to be able to experience it; being loved that way. So everytime I thought love is coming in my little path of life, I thought, " hey, now it is your turn, girl!" Then I would start to live out my dream. In the end (there were unfortunately always ends) I eventually realized that I was just dreaming my love life. In the end it is just me with pieces of my shattered dream.

I am the product of trashy love songs and poems! They mislead many people like me! Urging us to believe virtues, which actually just exist in the minds of simpletons.

Really, they should ban such arts!

Fun(ny) Love

It is a community where love is a commodity.

It is just fun and nothing but fun. If it makes no longer fun then you can go try and look for another fun in another place from another person. If you don't play their game, you will end up being the ball instead of the player. You can stick to your principles and enjoy yourself being tackled and or kicked around the field. Or you can play their game and forget who you are and your root and history.

It is another side of the planet. They have different rules. It is the place where you ought to eat or be eaten. It is the location to eat more than you can chew. You just have to ignore it if you choke. Ignore if your food is sending you to meet the skeleton with the scythe. You can still be a zombie and continue to eat delicious food! There is no end to fun. Fun is life. Fun is love.

Hail to capitalism!

On the Battlefield

What is wrong and what is right? Are there still any standard answers for this ultimate question? This is a battle. I am standing in the middle of the field with my weapons on my back. My lover is my greatest enemy. My enemy is my beloved lover. Just like Penthesilea and Achilles. In the end she killed him and ate his heart. Eventhough it meant that she also ate her own heart at the very moment. So she died when he died.

Inside Dreams

I feel like I am walking in my sleep. Or perhaps in someone else's sleep. It is very surreal here. The days are hot and fuzzy blue. The nights are dying cold but full of day's light. I don't know this city. I don't recognize my home, my room, my bed. Different. Unalike. They are aliens in my little world. A few times I caught myself trying to wake up and get out from this particular scene in order to find something I am familiar with. This turbulence of dreams are holding me a prisoner. In the dream of dreams I am drifting like fog above grass, moving slowly, taking my time to put my marks on many corners: "This is my territory!", I'd say. What is surreal could perhaps be sur(e)real.

A Box Full of Future

I want to risk it all and be like Pandora. I guess it is engraved in our female blood, ever since it began to rush inside us. I need to look inside the wonderful chest of father time Zeus gave me. What is inside? What is hidden inside? Apathy is something unfamiliar for me.

I am a magpie, who can not resist the temptation of glittering jewels.

Ruin Dance

Another unfinished world has tumbled down. It was a kingdom of folded cards, which was wrecked because of a slight breath of wind. Still she smiled and laughed at her disappointment and hysteria. He bolted his feelings inside his red glass jars. Surfacing just to take a bit of oxygen and beam to the frozen water in the air. It ended. She ended it. They ended. Going to a new untamed territory is a reluctant decision. In the meantime they prefer to go on dancing on the old new ruins; trying to enjoy and scrape the taste of the meal they could have had together. Outside the fence I look inside of the unfinished world that has tumbled down.

as fireflowers bloom

Today I witnessed a big party over the town. The sky was burned with many colors, like splashes of tints on a dark blue canvas. The fireflowers blasted off, exploded, rained down: lending a little feast for hungry lonely eyes. People were there, friends were there, I was inside happiness. Everybody and everything cheered. Somehow I feel like the dark blue canvas, but separated from those splashes of cheering tints. There is another party of dark canvasses inside me.

Processing

I am learning to walk on fire without getting my feet burned,
I am learning to eat shreds of glass without making my mouth bleed,
I am learning to look at a sun eclipse without getting my eyes blinded.
All there is to life and to live. I am learning.

Battered

Has it reapproached ? Has it come anew? Am I still capable of those give and take games? Have I not yet been crippled?

I changed my shape. Now I long to go back into the old me, for I have a new vessel now. A place to pour my rainbows down, to dip my soul to rest. But somehow I can not reach my old state yet. Somewhere in my old path I lost something meaningful, which I dread to save. If I can be the mahadevi again, if he can turn me into his energy, if we can mould ourselves into one subsistence.

My resistance. My rocket. My safety net.

The Arrival

Lo and behold!
Here comes my savior!

Galloping on the last unicorn, singing the song of the unknown land I have been desiring. His hair is as black as cold coals down inside the earth with streaks of golden aurora of the north pole. His smile is more blinding than the brightest sun burning over the african deserts. His eyes are falcons combing the land from above. Bewitching the very land where I stand, blowing a sweet scented breeze, blooming little white flowers on the ground between my feet. In grace he comes, spreading ripples of gentleness towards the sad and frightened trees.

He has found me.

step one

It is so very easy to be evil.
The root has been residing there since before the dawn has cracked. Sometimes you just do things without wanting. But still responsibilty is something you can't deny from you. Do you have to be evil to be able to keep on going with life? Because it is so very easy to be evil.

Explosion

Today I broke down. I tried to hold up the water inside my dam the whole time. But the pressure was just too forceful for my weakening strength; for the sky has been vomiting its bowels ever since his last new strokes. It was just too much for my basin, it was too hot for my snow barrier. I melted, it bursted out.

Transformers

I watch his words gliding to where I stand like a glistening serpent searching its way through uncountable barriers. Eerie it is, observing those beings changing shapes and shades gradually. What was blue can turn itself to yellow, what was big can turn into the tiniest element ever. What kind of magic takes place here I know not, yet constant quiver rules me, like lays of earth sometimes shudder when they clash on one another.

That they are carnivorous is not a new lesson. So I wonder, if I am going to throw myself back into their pit once again. Letting them fill my belly with sweets before all of a sudden slashing my flesh into little pieces, devouring them like hungry hyenas. Are they becoming my little gods that I am willing to offer myself on their behalf ?

Returned Order

In the yellow sky there are blue scattered thoughts of him.

Little dusts simmer whirling together shaping cotton candy fogs and clouds. Twinkling dots are the archer of the south; who is waiting patiently aiming to Apollo's charriot. If he could be shot down and tied up inside fogs and clouds for a while, perhaps there would be enough time for Gaia to return the long missed order in her chaotic bosom.

Then there would be no longer scattered thoughts of him in the yellow sky.

drip

A vast white tundra in my shelves. It's crowded yet it's also empty. It sprouts more than the speed of light, cramming and depriving at the same time. Very white and pure black. Beginning and end. Courage and fear. Holiness and sin. A vast white tundra clogging my drainage. It's jammed and starts leaking...
I am leaking a vast white tundra to the floor.

They are me

I rise up to the smell of hot coffee in the morning
I jump in glee seeing my long lost friend coming towards me
I hide myself behind a cupboard, afraid of my mother when I get bad grade in school
I have to hush up my tummy when I see chocolate-banana-pancakes in the cafeteria
I start to sing along when I hear my favorite song on the radio
and sing la la la when I forget the text
I panic when I don't finish my test on time and the teacher's already waiting
for me right next to where I sit
I frown when I cook for my father and he twitches his face while gulping his first bite telling me
how good it tastes
I pull up my blanket to cover my face when the morning sunshine tries to wake
me up too early
I cry when I fall down and get a bleeding knee
I laugh out loud when watching The Three Stooges

O how delightful it is being common

Keep Busy Don't Look Back Program

A friend of mine introduced me to a program for brokenhearted people. Perhaps it sounds silly at first, but if you're giving it a second (or third, or maybe also fourth...) thought, it is thousand miles away from where silliness dwells. She calls it "The Keep Busy Don't Look Back Program". I guess we don't need further explanations as to extract the hidden meaning from this extremely complicated concept.

She tried to recruit me as a member in this self help group of hers. The great thing about joining the group is that, you are not attached to it. You just have to get on with your life, be yourself and dump your horrible past. Even she --the founder and self pronounced leader of the group-- has forgotten why and how she started this program on the first place. You see how excellent it is.... She is so very busy that she doesn't have time to look back and already forgot her terrible broken heart and her brokenhearted people's club.... Or is it merely partial amnesia?

Well anyway, it's high time for me to take my wand out and cry, "cor reparo!"

Enchantment

O, Hail to guardian of the tower of the south!
I invoke thee!

Advance towards my shivering core
grant me thy dominion
to conquer the unconquered
defeat the undefeated

Hail to the guardian of the tower of the south!
I invoke thee!

Resemblances

Fire

Keeps you warm in cold nights. You can read your favorite treasury of love poems ("I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach...") and smile to the dancing yellow covering you closely with its comforting warmth. You can lay yourself on the rug looking at your shadow on the ceiling; at the way it moves playfully joking with the tune of Puck's flickering melodies. You can throw a glance outside the window, watching and eavesdropping the rain making love to the damp earth while sipping your second cup of hot china tea.

Fire

burns you in the flame of passion. Its kisses tingle every nooks and crannies of your hand-crafted body. It introduces you to the world of blazing skies, where every hue glows radiantly together with clouds and stars; pacing with great speed, jumping, frolicking with your willful desire. It blasts you off so high so that you burst out to tears exulting the glory of your love.

Fire

annihilates you into a heap of cold cinder. Grace is something it's not familiar with. It won't stop ravaging until it has gotten your roots and seed in its inflaming cussedness..., until it is sure that you're entirely nullified, scourged, plundered; into just a heap of cold cinder.


Speaking of fire.

Unfit

Look at them displaying their smiles!

Exhibition of happiness takes place in the very picture, embedded by the green harmony of the nodding trees. Doubts don't have the slightest chance to take shape in its impending occurence; not in this image. Frown would be a disgrace to the sunny day, tear would ruin the tuneful melody of the exuberant colors of nature. They don't fit in. Don't fit.

So brace yourself up! Take control!
The lights are on, the blowers are on place, the camera is ready. There is no left space for imperfect emotions. Let them be e-motions caught in a bi-dimensional painting, freezed up in a frame from the same dimesion.

No place for flaws; so cut the erose leaf and put it away!