The slimmest volume can hold the heaviest world.
The weakest signal can reach the strongest shoulder.
The rockiest path can find the calmest shore.
The hardest seat can balance the most fragile soul.
So yes, this blackened heart will face the brightest Light.
– bH374
I felt freedom today.
I still felt you there
But I ignored you for later.
I felt freedom today.
I found so many of you with them
And they smiled back
They conversed and
Conveyed
And when you swang on in
I looked up to swat you away.
I felt freedom today
And know tomorrow will
Have
No
Such
Luck.
I felt freedom today.
You’ll plague me tonight
But I damn well got today.
When the throat is straitened
and each weeze a corrosive churn.
My eyelashes become mallets
Pegging my sight down.
In ground.
Every raspy word lifts
Like steam in your cauldron
Boiling and reacting and
Unhurting
The only way we can to ourselves.
We’ll collect the remains
And archive the strains
But my mind will forget
As my body witholds.
And my brain will smile
At new seasons
And trends.
Forget the old, forget the current.
The future is definite so hold it
Precious.
Even though my breath can’t catch
Up. And I’ll still lie.
I’ll still lie.
I’ll still lie.
Reaching the quarter.
The century references dig
in its depth is death.
No lights and abundance
of noise.
We reached a pair of decades and
rushed for more.
Hated you.
Hated the past you.
Hated the you of now.
And hate the you in death.
Nothing makes you an angel.
Mold and plasma till
memories give you heart and smile.
Depth of the grave.
Depth of your human self.
Goodbye worthless
And captureless
And ageless
you. Goodbye.
Hate how it’ll change for you and for you and even you too. I’d
do it.
Again and again and again.
but this is expandable
this is tissue
this is just. Only not just.
this is talking over the head
this is words gone missing
this is me.
And this me is tired
or calendars that mess up
and groups that add up to
Spinning ideas and
lame humans
that pay too much for a human like face
and socially accepted manners.
This me says delete the days and
bring back the halls
of honest home.
~bH374
(On a brighter side note: The picture I’ve added to this post is from my trip to Chatsworth House yesterday. So very amazing.)
Words tapping away
days drawn in a sweep
markings made and
digits dismembered
agreements pushed
remember, hawks kneeyow and
sing as claws hold, hold.
Hold.
The release of age
promises but one checked out
some none and some so many.
A clear sky to the stain of sod
markings forgotten
illness overcome
caught in a new world, a world ignored
tested in depth
measurements and toil given and gotten.
Clutched so hard
forced to move upsidedown
trapped doors and archives for
murkier dissent, gems rare and
we but dwellers of dungeons
deep.
Praying for higher and fragrance and space
alone to answer and alone to see
blue eyes wait watching
cry, cry now
Waiting.
Hating.
Praying.
Waiting.
dead
Waiting. pain
Free.
may we never need the waiting room
-bH
On the bus again.
Nose running leaking making me drown,
Sides and back all clenched in pain.
Never cry aloud or shriek or howl
It’ll be over soon.
Each stop and start a language of shakes
No humming or soothing croon
Just clenching at each bash and bump it makes
Waiting for my final jerk
Though it be seconds before that’s gone too
For the roof and rules and runs of work
I’ll hang my time and avoid that loo.
These days are same.
Until I hurt in back and nose.
This lumpy, wet dizzying game
From where few have ever rose.
-bH
Disturbingly strange, but very real-like, dream this morning.
Then again, I have been ODing on Harry Potter fanfiction again – which had ABSOLUTELY NO CONNECTION to the contents of this dream.
I only mention it because fanfics have a way of seeping into my everyday thoughts. And fanfics are just Awesomeness.
Hope you’re dream wasn’t as freakishly vivid or in-a-roundabout-way tempting (??)
Happy dreams x
Hello World!
Best thing about writing?
When you hold that medium that clicks.
Like all impossibilities and negatives disintegrate and you’re left with the spark; the words and the world.
And for that time – before the rereads and the edits – you’re cocooned into this world of Perfection and every plan and plot is possible.
May it bloody last.
Happy writings everyone! And good luck!
~bH
Calm down it says.
Not possible
Why?
Why
It is as it has always been
Why
Why?
Not telling
Oh
Hey
…
Calm down
________________________________________
I desperately need sleep.
Soon I tell my eyes. Soon I tell my skin.
Soon I’ll tell my palms.
Very soon, I promise my arches.
Never tell the bladder, it lies. Forever so.
They never answer in silence. They wither in a Sahara, thirst for Petroleum , retch out Ashes. Dear Cotton don’t be holy.
Good luck on end of year exams, assignments, deadlines and corrections.
Academia can be a bitch.
bH's blog 