Character Portraits, Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #7

Shorter days mean longer nights and more gin and tonics.
Woke up blurry-eyed and confused with mind reeling from last night.
Composing of:
Girls in short skirts, white tops and blue wigs,
Women in cat ears, purple eyes and fangs –
Men in black fishnets, red heels and bustiers.
And watching an old man clad in black leather, swaying his body, front stage and centre –
A young man in a Giovanni suit, who drove there in an Italian coupe,
Who tried to buy me with liquid nitrogen cocktails and caviar,
leaned over and whispered, “Look at that weird man.”
To which I turned around and said:

YOU’RE WEIRD.
These are MY people.”

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Character Portraits, Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #6

What are the foundations of my self?
When it’s so illusive that it’s become impossible to touch?
When it’s so diverse, it’s practically theoretical?
When it’s so fragmented that it’s crumbled into microcosms?
But if I had to pin my identity down –
If I had to grasp and seize desperately at the particles
of my unthetered constitution,
I shall limit it down to:

Anything by Tarantino, Kurosawa, Hitchcock or Kubrick,
because it is their films that provide the means to my escape.
Because I am trapped by that inescapable sense of authenticity in their fiction,
for it has solidified my belief that there is more truth in a forgery,
than there is within presented honesty.

“Resident Evil” will always evoke a sense of pride and accomplishment in me,
because it was my obsession,
because of the fury and the loathing that it made me experience –
because it made me question my own capabilities –
until I almost gave up –
but didn’t.
And on a hot summer’s day, inside my pink room,
I punched the air with weary, triumphant fists –
and reveled in my own, silent victory,
satisfied, content,
and so madly, so genuinely –

PROUD.

I am here because I’m an adventurer,
a writer,
a cat – inquisitive and playful in nature.

I said “Hello,” because I found you enticing –
you made me wonder what it’s like to be you –
I am consumed by that overwhelming curiosity,
to see a part of your world,
from your own, unique perspective.

And the only goal for my existence?
Right now? At this very moment?
It is to try and understand and fall in love with as many worldviews and experiences as I can –
while I can
because nothing purifies me more,
but that momentary taste
of a stranger’s universe.

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Character Portraits, Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #5

Today I visited 13 Miller’s Court with Sir William Gull,
dated November 9th 1888
where he started a legend with a six-inch blade grasped firmly in his hands.
She muttered a “Hello,” before it struck her deep
to decorate her pillows made of breasts —
all for a good story.

He said:
Some wretches have a downward momentum in their lives
almost impossible to reverse.
A water will of necessity flow downhill,
thwarting all our best efforts that it should do otherwise.
(For) water (to) rise despite itself; it must first
be transmuted into steam.

It must be touched
by the purifying spirit
of fire.

This way.

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Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #4

Shisha and coffee,
Kerouac and Kurosawa,
Arianila and Stapel,
Saturated heat and a manic-depressive kitten,
Overpowering doubt and that gigantic effort to stay out of bed —
little tidbits that detail my days.

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Character Portraits, Day to Day Poetry, Epiphanies, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #3

Spent the weekend at a cottage down Tobermaury / and hiked for an hour to jump off cliffs down the Bruce Peninsula trail / was reminded of other trails like the one in Varadero / where we crossed paths with snakes, crabs the size of human heads, bats and wild dogs and the one in Quebrada Grande, Costa Rica / where we were strapped to each other by a single rope as we crossed waterfalls and eucalyptus trees so we can make a path in the rainforest / A crazy, beautiful life and yet /

Driving back to the city / and rejoining civilized life / am reminded of the fury / and isolation / in a place full of strangers and nameless friends./ When will I find reciprocation? / (If you stop looking for it) / When will I find adventure in my every day? / (If you continue working towards it) / When will I find peace free of envy and spite? / (If you release your ego and practice kindness despite how you feel)

What’s tricky about this disease / are the things it forces you to remember. / All I remember are the things I’ve lost, taken for granted and can’t have. / I forget the pleasure in the mundane, the rarity of unconditional love and the trill in absolute isolation./ It is a constant battle to remind myself that I have what I have always dreamed of since I was a dreaming child: / a best friend who loves me, the time to write endlessly, and the freedom to choose my own future.

Don’t get lost in materialism and societal expectations. / There is nothing manmade that have made gasp in awe and wonder as much as I do when I am surrounded by nature / Be grateful that love and adventure resides within you, / that you depend on yourself / and that you create worlds and realities within the tip of your fingers / because of your great capacity / to feel and fall in love with everything so deeply. /

Today I am grateful to be me / and if tomorrow I forget / I can go back to today and remind myself / of who I am / and continue to be.

 

 

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