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Poetic Interlude

  • Of free falling, letting go and silence...

    Oh I can feel as the gravity beckons me, 
    I can feel it's tug hard and pull ever so strong.
    Through each of the mattress, the bed, the air,
    And then finally the earth, where we all belong.
     
    If it's exhaustion or the moment of truth,
    I have to admit I'm afraid I just don't know.
    Right now all i really wanna be or do is,
    To just not fight it and be one with the flow.
     
    Ever managed to release yourself from,
    Chains of physical, spiritual or mental kind?
    With assistance of illegal susbstances, 
    Or meditation, got rid of the perennial bind?
     
    The free falling that musical legends mention,
    And the letting go that shrinks call panacea.
    Be one with darkness and silence together,
    You could close your eyes to get the idea.
     
    To be in the world and yet removed from it,
    Holds the precious key to my periodic salvation.
    Costs nothing but still returns enormous value,
    It's my most priceless spiritual vacation.
     
    Ah well, the commentary stops now, for now,
    I'm off to another journey within so deep.
    C'mon, it's not like I'm going to meet my maker,
    Just to the welcoming, rhythmic arms of sleep.

  • O Ball, don't you deflate!

    My rum, my rules,
    My electricity, my joules
    It make me high,
    All I wanna do is fly,
    Of course I'm no butterfly,
    Just finding my life's why.
    In slowmo I can see it all,
    The players fighting; referee's call.
    The cheering crowds,
    And the separating clouds.
    Oh but wait I'm just a ball,
    For a mo' I though I had it all.
    As I approach the ground,
    Stadium errupts; God awful sound. 
    I barely just miss the net,
    That player kicks the air in regret.
    Game went from the red to the blue,
    Collective sigh as if on cue.
    What about me, dude?
    Sure ure being terribly rude.
    As if I have no emotions, my own,
    The Monk, with Ferrari disowned.
    No, no personification there,
    A football has no here or there.
    My time in air was just that,
    Before I eventually hit back, flat.
    Though they certainly hope I don't,
    Don't wanna spoil the game, so won't.
    But what of me, my high and lows,
    Unsurpassable time n rainbows?
    Guess they exist just for me,
    My eyes n my dictionary
    How self deceiving can I be?
    Just like a human, really?!
    Anyway, loved the feel of the wind,
    Until the humans keyed rescind.
    After all this is over,
    I'll be lying like a 3leaf clover.
    Unwanted and ignored,
    Deflated and fatally bored.
    Oh wait, it's my rum, n my rule,
    My story n I can still be cool.
    If not in 'play' then in 'stop',
    Ball would be in air until it drops.
    Story's not over just yet,
    Win or lose, still a valid bet.
    Outside of the rum cloud,
    Wisdom stays and says aloud.
    Float, fly, stay in the air,
    Even kicked, don't be worse for wear.
    When u hit ground, don't deflate,
    End a hero, choose that fate.

    Image result for free football in field photo

  • Flight plan

    As I lay at night trying to sleep, it turns out
    there are other plans made by my mind.
    When silence makes the only sound,
    I reminisce cloudy milestones I left behind.

    That compound with its birds of a feather,
    whose flock I never managed to join.
    As I look back trying to visualize, whether,
    my fate was on the other side of the coin.

    That first male who professed his lurrve,
    whose naive promises my naïveté believed.
    The proverbial well into which I then dove,
    'n the un-drowning life lessons I received.

    That reflection in the well had me shocked,
    with face, appearance and body language.
    And the unusual confident streak mocked,
    lo, the fledgling was a bird out of its cage!

    That awful flight with the amazing 'boss',
    A combination that begged for a change,
    My struggle with accepting it just as it was,
    As I finally realized it outta my flight range.

    That vision of the perfect nest, its features
    would simply need be warmth and space.
    As I found it bordering jungle creatures,
    I decided to mingle with them unfazed.

    That  metamorphosis I could self-witness,
    being in the picture and strangely out of it.
    The bird had flown its nest, a wanderess,
    untamed and yet uncaught; proud of it.

    birdie num num.jpg
    But, 'uncaught' is a beautiful thing as it,
    spells magnetism they find hard to resist.
    Chase relentlessly with their might and wit,
    Tirelessly, yet blindly they just persist!

    I wonder how long shall I manage, staying
    untethered and free-spirited despite it all,
    I find myself as I often do - praying,
    flying high or low, just wish I'd never stall!