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January 27, 2010
At least for now
I just looked away
and the spot light fled,
I saw traces of her frame
leaving the stage,
Funny where life takes you
Funny it happens like it was supposed to
Sad when her lips don't melt in your mouth
and you know, you know well and yet
you take a deep breath, turn on the light
put your glasses on and open another book
what always stays is time, at least for now
Posted by Idinraha at 04:37 PM | Comments (0)
January 25, 2010
On my mind !
He sat deep in his chair with a look of sympathy . I told him how it hurts
like a cold numbing pain that hurls through you and what leaves behind
is emptiness. He nodded and I knew I had reached him by the expression
on his face.
However I knew he needed a better explanation so I sat in front of him,
asking him to hold my head on both side. I knew I had to be fast so I
do not lose his attention. I had done this before once trying to have a
better grasp of what was on my mind.
I found the Zipper underneath my hair line, and gently opend it up
removing my scalp. Quickly unfastened the clips on the sides of my
skull and pushed it back carefully feeling the air on my brain and
asked him firmly if he could see what's on my mind, and why does
it hurt so much.
Posted by Idinraha at 09:50 PM | Comments (0)
The story teller
The story teller walks in a different reality, straight posture, head high,
he is a spectator, simply observing, viewing, judging and musing. The
story teller stands aside in a safe distance, he observes pain but does
not realize it, he mocks the irony of faith, the cruelty of differences,
Nature or Nurture. He is a voyeur. he is an elite, with a gray beard and
eyes that can not see, bored still behind his thick glasses.
And yet he is a God, not an assumption but a reality perceived by him so
forcefully it convinces others to believe. He is God for he believes it with
no doubt, and yet this assumption would push his psyche to such labor
that he would soon wallow in expectation and guilt all wrapped in deity
of his self grander.
Is the story teller the villain or the anti hero, the murderer or the murdered,
the sinner or the puritan. he has the choice yet he does not bind the reality
of such decisions. The story take such decisions away. The story teller begins
the journey but the roads surely will turn, and to his dismay he loses his way, there
is a sunset and the gray dark empty quiet eerie of the woods where he gets
lost amongst parallel spaces as the story unfolds
Posted by Idinraha at 09:13 PM | Comments (0)
January 14, 2010
Sweet sweet prince
Sweet sweet prince, such a short journey,
Oh sweet sweet prince, such bitter sorrow,
How could sun rise again,
and the beguiling Moon should shun the world in shame
the images of you , of your youth, all in beauty
your eyes, your skin, your hair, and the fair constitution in you , sweet natured
with a smile that dazzled, sweet sweet prince, such a short journey, such shame
why the haste, such cruel cruel purpose, a beloved fallen, no reason, no reason
and the ones who loved you, the ones left behind with a chill in their bones
besieged by eternity of this pain, the finality of the passage,
sweet sweet prince, such a short journey
Such a bitter sorrow, why, why the haste !
Posted by Idinraha at 05:29 PM | Comments (1)
January 12, 2010
She is lost
she is lost
in mirrored hallways
blinded by flashes of cameras
lost in hours of a day long
some say she stayed too long
some say she looked too far
some excuse her youth
like the sevengalies and the muse
but she never read
the writings on the walls
some say if she had...........................
however its late. she is lost
Posted by Idinraha at 11:32 PM | Comments (0)
Most every day
a peice of Earth with soft patches here and there
fresh mornings of harvest, long days of sun sweat and dirt
Every day, you stand by the field squinting a glance
and plow through them as they come, most every day
you wink at the crows, look hard at the clouds as they gather
you wish for rain and stay soaked knee deep in mud as it pours
Most every day, almost all , your peice of land
with soft patches here an there, your earth
your soil, your dirt, your seed, your harvest
somewhere between promises and heart brakes
you plow through most every day, almost all
and a quiet satisfaction of bruised hands
and callased fingers, your life
on a patch of Earth to live
and to die
Posted by Idinraha at 11:14 PM | Comments (0)
January 07, 2010
I am hungry
Maybe I should deny it although its recognition would soften the blow
Lonely men do know their shadows, and have a keen awareness of time
and obligations of every hour, they know the clarity of light as it side
steps the shadows moving west
I declare as if it is crucial for all to know that I am dying of hunger, no
it is not the quantity of feed or the quality of its essence but the need
in me to achieve my hunger and deny it all I can with a clear mind and
bulging anger that has served me my place on such a stage and the
generosity of the light that beholds me a nucleus within my being , yes
I am hungry and I can not eat. as simple as it sounds I am awaiting the
reach of pain as it crawls in me hands by hands bones to bones ,
alarming a sour danger that could linger and grow to its tension and
growl beast like within me ; FEED ME, FEED ME FEED ME and yet as
a child I need to shoulder him, resting his head on my frame and loll
him to sleep with promises of sugar canes and sweet dreams and
once he glides above the cloud with his eyes shut . I shall lay close
and await death calm.
Posted by Idinraha at 05:32 PM | Comments (0)
going further...................
I asked her if it is too late.
she answered it is later than you know but
much earlier than you can imagine.
I asked her if it is time to go,
she answered time is not of essence
where we go. --perceiving a motion delays it
yet it allows a design to pursue further--
I asked her do we come to know where we go
She answered once we are there we will know
What if we never arrive at such knowing I asked
We go further she answered
Posted by Idinraha at 05:18 PM | Comments (0)