Seen (The Face)

Was it heard

Was it felt

Was it understood?

Rhythmic silence between

All that is good .

When to start

When to stop

When to pick up the pace,

Disarmed with a grin

The one and only face

I haven’t forgot.

I still live in this space.

It runs throughout

Still on my mind,

Ink blots that stain

Memories

Bleed through

Again and again .

Dark matter of the brain

Will I see you again?

Nothing to lose

Nothing to gain.

It’s up to you

It’s up to you.

Tides & Currents

Ripened Desire. His love ran down my chin like juice from the pomegranate. I savoured every seed, looked up to see his ecstasy, syrupy sweet. When we locked eyes, we threw away all keys. I swear his gaze alone could bring me to my knees. A graze of my hand along the side of his neck, that was pretty much all it took to set his soul at ease. That kind of power is deadly, dangerous. When the pull is so strong that all resistance becomes weak. I would run to him now, but I’m not prepared to bleed. I only have a few more lives left in me. I’d be damned if I stay, damned if leave. So leave me right where I stand, don’t call out to me. All the memories I hold on to, where do I put them down? The bass of his voice, can I rid myself of the sound? The mischief of his smile and the furrow of his brow. Shit, I even romanticised the downward curl of his frown. The tides and currents we made. Happy to be a drop in his ocean. It’s my greatest strength and my worse vice. The way I studied him. To replay every conversation like a never ending melody. To still feel the warmth of his skin on bed sheets. Sights and Sounds, I can never forget. The Taste, Touch , Smell of someone I swore saw the human in my being. Martyrdom in the name of potential love, the only sacrifice both binding and freeing. Teach me to let it all go. Sweep it all away.

Do You Believe In Second Chances?

You don’t like being controlled.

I don’t like being lonely   

Even when I’m not alone.

Desires for intimacy

But your hands too shaky to hold

Not trying to force you to fit the mould,

You know I struggle with control.

I looked inward to find the source of my inhibitions

That floated up to the surface  to a synagogue  of witnesses.

A sea of faces, and they all have your eyes,

When there’s nowhere to run or hide 

You gotta enter the chamber

Slay the dragon, kill the Pride.

Disarmed you with the truth

And a conversation you weren’t ready for

Corrupted soil bore the fruit of the land you consumed 

Now you’re dazed and confused

Wondering why your mental strings are out of tune. 

It’s a parasitic cycle we live in 

Acting like we don’t care,

Closed mouths don’t get fed

Pleading the fifth gets you nowhere.

Miscommunication patented the seed

For the roots of deception

Descent into the land where entropy reigns supreme.  

Energy of entitlement got you all fucked up 

it seems.

I want to understand

First you need to throw me a bone.

These virtual realities of failed systems 

Could crumble at the foot of our

Ignited soles.

When your vision meets my minds eye 

What a sight to behold.

We could get a taste of how it feels to be whole 

To see today’s genesis 

In light of the old. 

Reflections

9:37 pm. I’m alone

The call has just ended

With unresolved silence

From my side of the dial

Tone deaf and dumb

An uncertainty lingers

In the air from her

‘Goodbye, I love you, speak soon.’

Naturally I deal with these

Uncomfortable moments

Where I’m left with nothing

But self reflection and a

Dead battery the only way

I know how.

Cherry red lips

And a swivel of gloss

Stains the rim.

No drop will be left to

It’s lonesome tonight

There’s a Red Sea inside of me

Waiting to be parted

I dissolve into despondency

Inebriated therapy .

There are mistakes that I’ve made,

Risks that’s I’ve taken,

Sins I still seek atonement for,

And decisions I refuse to face

All screaming in

Harmonious discord

Why did I let it get this far?

If a sixth sense exists, and

A woman’s intuition is God

Then I have denounced both,

My own personal Judas.

Didn’t listen to my heart

Did what I was expected

Paralysed by parental pressure

When it was time to speak my truth

My backbone bent

Not strong enough to withstand

The commodity of my youth.

So they all laughed .

Laughs turned to horror

Horror turned scowls of disgust

Disgust to confusion

They must’ve thought me delirious.

When the jokes not so funny anymore,

‘Oh, she’s serious?’

Voices sink like quicksand.

People really look like places

When you’re lost.

A man can look like a home

When you think you have none .

Hollow inside

I allowed many to take up residence

Not even dead presidents

Could pay off the debts they raised

Imagine me, Almost 23.

And I thought I’d ruined my life

Thought I spoke up too late

Ran when the timing wasn’t quite right

A trail of breadcrumbs left

Still waiting on the mice

To take it all away,

Conceal my misguided steps

I was waiting for days, weeks ,

Months, a year later

And still left there standing

Still hoping to salvage my self before expiry

Eyes cast to the heavens thinking

Man, God must be tired of me.

Gave me so many exit plans

I stood dumbfounded at every door

Looking for ways out

Drawing circles on the floor

When momma hang up the phone

I didn’t know what to say anymore

Didn’t know my future

Didn’t know what I was doing

I let him change my name

Left to ruin

As if it made me any more of a woman

Signed my independence away

Blood stained calligraphy.

They say a man who finds a wife

Finds a beautiful thing,

But I wasn’t ready

So his blessing became my curse

Final chapter written in cursive

Open Endings still uncertain.

I can never really explain

Just how much it hurt,

Still I managed to claw my way

Through the dirt.

Sometimes the pain comes back to visit

Like an old time friend

Reminding me, Never. Never again.

If life was a lucid dream

I would’ve woken way sooner

Changed the narrative

Traveled the nine circles of hell

And bought back my soul

…Just 22 years old.

I’d tell her don’t slow down

It’s only just begun.

Simulacrum

Crisp evening air caresses my skin

Ears teased at the whistle of night wind

Metronome beat,

The cab metre makes me steady

These roads and skylines

Commited to memory.

Sitting, watching

Little snapshots of life

Whispers go by as quiet as Sin.

I study each and every passerby

Individual worlds

Unknowing of my watchful eye.

I think to myself

I could be any one of them

Mirrored reflections from a distant realm

Do they look at me and feel the same?

In what stranger does my kindred soul reside?

Shared experiences, common fears

Mutual victories, congregational tears.

And here I am,

A microcosm of the whole

A piece of the mosaic

Another name etched on the scroll.

The Walk

I haven’t just yet.

But I’ve figured it out. And amidst all my worry and doubt a sense of relief lies buried beneath the rubble. Relief in the inevitable or what I deem to be decided. So much could be solved if I simply speak. If I articulated what I felt instead of waiting for words to fall into my lap. I feel the shift. The change in energy, and the looming threat of separation like a candle in the wind. I know it’s a matter of my own doing. I want you to speak, but who am I to demand expectation. The lingering thoughts in your mind, the content of your heart, all your senses and sensibilities, are yours to share, not mind to demand. Besides, I want you to want to. To reveal, confide and confess on your own accord. Because you feel safe with me. Because you find consolation in our minds interweaved. A knot in the thread is the only thing that seals. Let me be transparent, I’ll stop making excuses. I know my diversion can be worse than hubris. Sometimes I shy away from conversation, afraid of losing the illusion of control. Control of my fears, desires, secrets. Control of my philosophy, interests, taboos. I say it’s because I don’t want them to consume you. In part, that is quite true. Really, I fear that you’ll contain me. Whether you want to or not. There are depths behind your eyes that I can’t quite reach, but I feel them as if I’m slowly drifting into the deep. And with every glance in my direction that current is felt. I can tell you’re not like everyone else. So I hide behind base level vanities to shield my fragility. Deep conversations breed vulnerability. I know you want to go beyond the surface, ironically I want the same. My countenance may say otherwise, but really it’s all a foolish game. There’s much more to this, it’s worth the try. If it means I must lay aside my pride, then I’ll throw down my armour and look you in the eyes. No distractions, aversions of glance. I’m ready to talk if you’d still like to hear. Let’s go for a walk, you can lend me your ear.

An Instant

They say if you go looking

Be prepared for what you may find.

Disclosure to Ignorance is as Sight to the Blind.

Be prepared, you may just despise what’s on the other side

Selfish curiosity turned slave to momentary pride.

Many know that melancholy can be oddly pleasurable.

Emotional extremities euphoria made immeasurable

Tethering on the edge of intrigue and it’s addictive

My curiosity finds it’s way back rather vindictive.

Disrupted hypothalamus, now how do I trust

I have a habit of prying my eyes open even when they’re not shut.

Extending myself, tearing through thresholds to see if new ones emerge.

The masochist in me says submit to every urge.

Usually I resist but in my moments of weakness

I’m left looking at the monster I’ve willed into existence

The thoughts go everywhere. Fugitives I’ll never find

Such an ugly use of an otherwise beautiful mind.

Call it brutal imagination. I still wonder why we do this.

In the ebb and flow of life

Some things remain superfluous

All I can do is wake up, make a change

See if I feel a difference

I’ve outgrown the myth of the Path of Least Resistance.

The sleep of reason doesn’t care either way,

So I soldier on in the dawn of a new day.

O(h).

Oh I feel ravenous.

I lay myself in front of you

Ready for siege

My defences are down

And I prefer it that way

Ready to be conquered

Ready to please

Spread wide as far as the eye can see,

You survey the land so perfectly.

I wonder to myself,

How can I be so deep?

You’re far too good at digging

The harvests that you reap

Sewn by every seed,

These threads are now undone

I’m bursting at the seams.

It’s getting late

And the symphony still plays on

Your pen is mighty powerful

The way you write these songs

Penance for my sins

You could right my every wrong

Iron firm grip around the reigns

I have no choice but to ride along.

I love to play,

He’s so good at games.

He loves a wild woman,

I love how he tames.

But he’s always prepared to reignite the Flame

Just in time for

me to send

down the

Rain.

Colour Theory

he speaks in colours

and he goes to my head.

tender yet brute

his touch paints me red

leaves my skin burgundy,

true premier cru,

a man so gentle

somehow so cruel.

when I’m waiting by the phone

his silence stains shades of blue.

and I fade into grey

the saddest hue,

if only he knew,

if only he knew.

I long for his embrace

like the perfect brew

warm brown arms

to keep me grounded

firmly in place

entangled at the root.

I give you my eyes

to travel through,

a sunset haze to gaze into

for you I’ll be an orange moon.

let down your walls

trust and believe,

here in my room you’ll

find your peace.

just lay your head upon

my chest,

fields of green

where you may rest.

Journeyman

Things aren’t what they seem,

In fact they’re much more.

Doors left ajar

Some unable to close,

Some bolted shut,

Some ready to explode.

Blissful dissolution?

Or chaotic clarity.

The journeyman moves

In ultimate sincerity.

Looking both ways

Above and below

To end up somewhere

Only (s)he knows.

The Doors

Lost in reverie

A call for action disguised as apathy

My tongue has turned bitter to the taste.

 I wonder if this feeling is temporary

In search of a reason 

More than mere definition,

More than a deaf Phoenician. 

They attempted to transcribe me 

But lost the etymology. 

What my oculus could not perceive 

Was surely felt 

Truly beyond like Nietzsche said

The end justified the means 

Reclaimed all intention

Machiavellian.  

Turned words into works 

When it was in my possession .

My devotion has always been quite fleeting 

I ask, am I fickle?

Is it a search for higher meaning? 

Am I the alchemist?

Or am I the sorcerer.

I carved ships from many men

Merely temporaries, sailed shadows,

No wonder they never made it to shore 

Ignoring intuition 

Knowing I deserved more.

Thank You

If the unendurable is truly the beginning curve of joy, perhaps my salvation is just around the bend.

If the edge of sadness descends into the pit of a new dawn

Does my former self die to be reborn again ?

I’d like to shed my skin,

Reveal the vessel beneath this weathered

Flesh

As skin reveals bone

Surpassing my idea of self.

Avatars are deceiving

And many I have deceived.

Nothing here is good, nothing here is clean.

So patiently I wait to be remade again

Perhaps my salvation is just around the bend.

My Joy and My Melancholy

January 30, 2019: 

And as usual, he sits and waits for his nod of approval. The reciprocating stare that says, ‘Everything’s alright, all is forgiven. Immediate atonement to start again, all that allows him to continue as he is, never changing. To wreak havoc from the roof of his tongue again, to spew careless spillage from the wells of his mind. Destroying foundations that are already fragile, planted on shaky pillars. At the end of the day, he will always be forgiven, because to deny him that privilege would be nothing short of criminal, in the world that has been built to protect him at all costs. Finite.

And amidst all this, I love him more than I did yesterday.

Breathing

Thoughts run wild like fugitive souls.

How can I be stranger to myself

As if my skin is unearthed territory

Life claws at the surface

But my womb does not listen

My mouth is a chained vessel

Found in Babel’s ruins

Contemplating my value

Questioning the extent of what I deserve

These unwanted pastimes

Say here we go again.

These things never change

They evolve beyond control.

They’ve seized me by the throat

And dared me to exhale .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pandora Speaks

 

So she turned to him, and with a slight grin upon her lips she told him her truth. The whole truth and nothing but. One has never witnessed such honesty, spilling out of her mouth like water from the Chalice Well; it engulfed him from every corner. She could not contain it. This was her time to be heard, and I must remind you how rare it is in this life for a woman to be heard.

“Woman like me can never love and be loved in return. It’s always one or the other as our role permits. These men do not love me. I know I am a commodity , and the day I’m not desired I fear the walls of Jericho have been struck down. I was pure and good once . But the passion of the brute has dug it’s dirt ridden heels into my body, too many times for its mark to fade. I’ve given my passion time and time again for nothing in return. Nothing substantial. No permanency. Just a brief moment of feeling wanted and evading the curse that is loneliness . I feel so lonely after, and a little less complete. A little less whole . A little less me. I do not love these men. They would never take me home to their mothers because I’m tainted to them. Not worth a family or a household. Yet women like me are the ones they yearn for when they lie next to their wives at night. Oh the things they say! “You’re the only woman that can satisfy me.” If only they knew what it was to be satisfied. You see there’s these men. But then there are the others. The poor earnest souls. The tender cavaliers who dare to take a chance on tortured women such as I . Who choose to look past the snicker and whisper of the town. Who defend our honour against a world that says we have none. And, if they’re really foolish, dare to propose. To take to the alter one they wouldn’t allow through the church doors. These men are far too kind and therefore too good to be loved. I want to love them . I really do! But I would never allow myself to get so comfortable. He thinks he can handle what is completely irrational. I know it will become too much for him. You can’t possibly have these feelings reciprocated from a woman whose perception of love, has been completely distorted. He’ll be frustrated every time he looks into my eyes, broken little stained glass mirrors, and wonder why I won’t allow him to love me. And I just might love him, I just might do. Alas, I’m incapable of showing it. Throw me around, do your bidding, let the rage of impetuous lust erupt then retreat back into its corner. It’s all I’ve come to know and all I can allow . Anything else is unfamiliar— and far too scary . Remember, I too was once pure and good. I’ve forgotten how to dream. It is precisely because of this women like me can never be loved. I’m content living a life confined to brief intimacies and fleeting moments of inclusion. I hope you understand. I pray you understand.”

The Exploitation and Redemption of Laura Gemser

Wonderful insight into the life of the talented and elusive cult classic star Laura Gemser.

lost girl's blog

If you’re a fan of trashy vintage B-movies and Grindhouse films, there is no doubt that you are familiar with Laura Gemser. She forged a successful career out of her unearthly beauty, and she is still world renown by die-hard fans to this day. But who was Laura Gemser as a person? How did such a shy and intelligent woman cope with being viewed as a sex icon due to the explicit Black Emanuelle movie series?

On the surface, her life story is a glamorous jet-set tale of stardom in the flower-power & free love era. Underneath the facade of bare skin on celluloid, there was a darker conflict going on in her heart. She enjoyed and despised aspects of her work at the same time. The films she starred in were disturbingly violent and often pornographic, and after awhile she balked at doing such roles. Laura yearned for…

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