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October 20, 2009

By getting lost

Sky hoping -- I turn my head, looking up through the car window, as far as I could see Gray's closing on the turquoise blue and at the end of horizon the last rays of the sun is bleeding in oranges and pinks, purples brushed against the turquoise moving outward. I know further down by the lake where the green darks of the trees clear a path I could see the silvery water flowing still, moving within itself quietly , breathing, leading where the gray greens halt the view expanding to the pink oranges of a sky hesitant in its sunset, as the winds carouses the heights pushing the last puffs of the clouds to the side, allowing the darkness to pour, covering all.

I asked her how she walks on water?
she answered me ; we float in air and pass by the water.
I asked her how she floats in air,?
she answered by the drink we had of that sweet nectar
What sweet nectar?
--the sweat soaked sweet nectar of the love that found us
How one gets to be found?
-- By getting lost. she whispered

Posted by Idinraha at 06:09 PM | Comments (0)

October 13, 2009

Mercurial silver bolts

I remember how I could close my eyes, walk out of my skin by turning my head to the side and step out.
I could evlove, dream, I could live in a separate reality, all mine. controlled as it was my shapeshifting, thrilling in its curiosity and bengin in its quiet remedies, I kept the secrets, held the words, I never said, even when it all crashed, I simply accepted that I was a stranger I belonged to a planet behind the sun, I was different.

And yet I was a child running on rooftops following the sun, drawing squares chalks in my hand, numbers in my head, I hoped and jumped and laughed loud when the kites fled swiming upward in the sky . I liked mischief, it was pushing shadows and craving the sun, it was the shallow pool with its green water and yet so deep , we choose the life we live, the gouls and the monsters I played them well sitting quietly still.

she had yellow hair and fair skin, buttoned eyes hazel round , she looked like the girls in the movies. She smelled of soaps and perfume, and her hair shined in the sun. She was foreign to us and so fetching in her novelty. For a brown native boy like me she was a prize and yet so out of reach. I could have asked, I could have desired I could have wanted her ........but The thrill of waiting was beyond any joy any pain , I learned to stay away, I learned to wait...........I had been awakened to reality of differences outside the limited collaborations of Blacks and whites, I have seen the posibilities of colors and how they brought new sensations , Colors had a different reality, there was sentiments in colors, emotions, and so much posibilities. By the second grade she dissapeared. But then i had come to know all the subtleties of Browns and ambers, oranges and reds, I read my black and white papers and yearned for the colorful images that came my way in books and magazines.

I found how my body reacted to stimulies. I would close my eyes and try to remember the sensations, and the images they offered me. The scents that hurled within me and danced on the scenseroy receptive nerve endings and bled in pinks and yellows, a certain joy that ran under my skin and expanded within me, Joy , joy, and the breath it took from me, the friction of joy in me -skin, flesh or bone, within my head, my loins, joy and how it made my eyes sleepy and the fog it brought to my head, a humid mist to get lost in and day dream. I was hooked, I was charmed, colors, textures, images , visions, to tremble to shiver, hot little mercurial silver bolts crousing in me, day dream mornings, and midnight ropes, chains to hang by and dare in different realms of raptures simple.

Posted by Idinraha at 09:30 PM | Comments (0)

Sweat soaked sweet necter...........

I used to draw an Indian girl standing high on top of a rock, with her torso naked, and her hair silky blak flowing in air. The idea of loss had been within me , hurling down further , moving deeper, clear as it could, I was a fatalist at age six . Friday afternoons would push its nails under your skin, like a sky lost in gray dark of a storm and all that creeps inside like a disease that gnaws on you , you become scattered in pieces and yet proceed to move side by side there is a longing in you, day lights seems so faraway.

Quiet heat of afternoons when sun was many blinks away. There was a stilness in the air-- like the day had stopped in its track, dripping slowly . Life was moving away, walking steady in deliberate steps , shadows extending long in whispers and murmers of closed doors, humid windows and dizzy spells of urges , hands that tripped underneath her blouse, greedy femmes, oh curiosity we met in long quiet fternoons of girls with long hair lost in the teetering rythem of a certain growth, as I touched their skin and sniffed their air of sweat soaked sweet necter, pure and clean, I was charmed , bewitched by my own witchery , floating in beauty as the green frog smiled at the moth and licked its lips eyeing a fly at distance, humid , as the yellow walls swelled in patches.

we swam in silence . moving still, moving motionless, floating. The dragon was sleep and there was adventure behind every tree --places to see were we could disrobe and show our young penisses, laughing at each other
knowing the slippery flesh of sin, innocent devouring sin waking under our skin, poking sleepy yet waking pushing,
the secret was beyond , further down maybe behind the bushes of wild roses bleeding in their crimson dark rivers floating inside every blossom they bloomed. I kissed her pushing my frame slender on her with my head to the side
like the boy on the screen way up in black and white. gently pressing my lips on hers feeling her warm breath. and how sweet, how tender, how precious, ...........................the marbles green, teal yellow, clouded marbles sleek to touch, in their glassy indifference cold marbles rolling on the rug toward different corners, did i open my hand did I let them go, how did the hour pass, clouds ran trough the sky and the pink dark blue gray horizon rolled toward the west in one swift motion. I rolled the film in the camera, lookin through the lenz, I tries to catch it and hold it so I could look back. with my face arched in my palm , covered by my fingers.........


There were more distances between the walls, the walls were taller made of straw and mudd thick as they were tall...........The trees though hid the souls that roamed in the garden at night you could see their etheral frames moving amongst the dark spaces as they pushed the air and the branches trembled , some leaves fell . we stood behind the window pane and shivered cold worried if they saw us and if they should come to take us away behind the last bush that crowded the end of the garden in that dead space, were air stood still and moth grow, where every thing ended in a bare emplty halt . The darkness started there and poured like a fog as it covered all. The emptiness, horrifying, the stilness eerie. We all believed that you could get caught in that space and get carried away beyound the walls or maybe inside, like a piece of straw, mud, stone caught, left forever, motionless, with your mouth open eyes buldged in fright , shouting soundless wrapped in silence.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:10 PM | Comments (0)