Sitting indulgently in bed
Ravaging (I like that word too much to omit it)
Semolina porridge as I haven't eaten
And, I haven't;
12 hours have lapsed since my last meal.
I break the fast, sacredly,
Gingerly perhaps, well aware that Pi is still starving
Covered in salt blisters,
Living in fear of his survival.
I feel I am at the bottom of a hologram;
Surrounded with tantalizing fractured information
Fragmented; not yet coherent in my mind.
I might even say stress is gleefully impinging on my life
And I love it for once!
I have refrained from blogging lately,
My tiredness has brought out the most pessimistic of me's
And that aint reader friendly!
Nevertheless, I am drowning with inspiration and motivation!
Firstly, the night sky has been crystal clear these last few nights;
An Islamic blue bowl upturned, scattered with worlds.
I take no credit for this picture of Matariki rising in the early morning sky.
But the (mouldy) blue and ochre evoke everything that is within me right now.
The rising happiness, the wholesome belief that I am going somewhere
Somewhere I want to be.
The frail lacy trees are these shoots of new learning, new inspiration
Fragile at first, but later strong and foundational in my life;
Their roots grounded so to speak.
Yesterday I went through a whole wheel of emotions:
Hope, love, compassion, distraction, empathy, and utter, profound love.
I realized I was being possessive, I needed to step back
To uncover the gentler love ensuing below the tormented wave crests.
The easily judged guy sitting next to me
Sings under his breath that he shot the sherriff, but not the deputy.
I work out he is 49, has no biological children and is
Walking the path of faith,
Which he, no doubtedly, wants of me.
I am certain, unfailingly so, that the reason I love 'The life of Pi'
Is the mixed questions, the searching always for something
That is never fixed.
Bon Iver's 'Calgary' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KrmxavLIRM)
I could never walk a singular path, towards a singular goal.
Organized religion does to me.
Whether it be the suffering turtle I need to eat,
Or the assuaged tiger inside
One can only know what path, when walked.
Along the way, people's lives vicariously beckon,
Adding to the perplexity of the human race.
A race in itself.
R fails to give me eye contact,
Something exists I cannot deduce.
True love, true faith; true loss?
Guilty for my accusatory thoughts,
Pi's fighting off a shark breaks even.
M is driving me crazy;
She is the orb in everything
In everything.
Deprecatingly I associate her with my
13 year old self who cried on demand,
Sulked ruthlessly:
Talked whenever possible or impossible.
Just wanted attention.
I dig into my now rubbery semolina
While watching the fairies of the pre-school
Free of bias, as of yet,
How they are to be marred.
I give them 3 years till the action be complete.
While on the bus,
My head in the midst of a monsoon storm at sea,
I look out the window momentarily to have my faith restored.
A woman, with no more than a smile, handed over a bought meal
To an emaciated, lonely man sitting on Manners Street seeking love.
The smile reciprocated, the bag of food curiously explored, then hidden momentarily,
Then dispatched hungrily down the widening channel of love.
Oh, the overwhelming love in that moment!
My eyes were moist, my lower lip quivered.
Oh the love in the world!
'On the church stairs
The wind in my hair
A flood through my tear'*
While I write my mind coherently rearranges itself;
The flustering, sub-atomical range of emotions in this world
Engulfs me; smothering me with the entirety of its magnificence!
At home literal paper work awaited me.
Setting it aside I ate canned pineapple
With cocktail samosas,
Watching 'The Fall'
Adding to my hyper inter-momentary-life-orgasm.
The colour, the form, the music; the betrayal of survival.
What resonance this had, while I walked down the stairs.
I could have tripped to make my life more plot-like
How I could have sought pain, to make this happiness all the more eternal.
Beirut's 'La Banlieue' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bonzZowYre0) and
But, alas, I didn't trip,
Instead my stomach tripped when a 4.2 earthquake shook
The house forcefully with two hands,
Ever so briefly.
With my mortality in check,
I apologised for believing in everything was plausible.
The pentecostal flare above these divine beings;
The flame of hope that burned quietly in the Pacific Ocean;
The flame of hope that rages within me, bursting out orgasmically.
The timetable still incomplete,
The musicians still asleep,
The flier beckoning, I must close with a quote:
'We can cure physical diseases with medicine
But the only cure for loneliness, despair and hopelessness is love.
There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread
But there are so many more dying for a little love.'
--Mother Theresa
Must listen to this; this truly instills hope in me!
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