My photo
:, Indonesia
I do not speak my truth to antagonize you.... I share this swollen river running -- This waterfall of faith-- because it flows from me like lennon's endless rain.... --my paper cup: this poem-- to which an endless string of words spill out and on to... I stain the sentences with abundant articulations that boil inside of me... I thirst, I starve, I crave. and all that quenches... all that can satiate me is to open the faucet and allow the words to run... They skip and dance across themselves... They formulate on their way out like fireworks deciding which way they will face when they open and sizzle in the night air... And when they do... it's a sight to behold. It shocks me like the boom, and takes me aback to see what has emerged. And Keroac knew. He knew all along... that I was one. As my words explode like spiders across the sky... I watch in staggering wonder at my truth revealed and know that I am home here. I have taken my vow... signed in blood... solemnly sworn myself in... been hazed and pinky promised... and I know... without the shadow of a doubt... that I am a mad one. ...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Reflections in Steel

She called me a steel magnolia

My veins carry in them both wind and water

When frozen with fear, I become dry ice...
I'm untouchable by human hands.
A chilling dance of hypnotic smoke

With wrath, I boil.
A steaming kettle...
Spitting my poison...
Searing the skin of those who stand near.

The liquid soup of my soul is tender and giving.

Parts of my self are lost in the splash made by those who dive in to me

Shallowed by those who reach down with cupped hands to sip me.

Liters of myself lost to lovers, takers, vampires sucking me dry.

My wind blows eternal.
My breath
My life

I gasp for air until parched and raw.
Scratching, clawing at my lungs.

Be my pinwheel...

Be fed by this roaring rapid...
This hurricane that is me.

I can't compress myself any longer in this bottle of a body I reside in.

I am a force...
But powerless and scared.

Below the surface I am soft and clear
A drop of dew
And a gentle morning breeze
Whispering through and hanging upon the leaves of this steel magnolia.

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