Line of Deliverance
In the shadowed shades of my blues.
I tenderly look for another who I can summon as one who lives life in honour,
Of all that is true.
Those who speak the spoken word in all its iridescent hues.
Colours drape my inner wardrobe.
Yet, I clamber for my grey, nuances of noir.
Catastrophizing all the whites for showing up my yellow gnashers.
Against a blustery pale backdrop of mountains blanketed by capped ice.
Brazen, I stand on the highest peak.
Cheeks misted by tears.
Contemplative in being joyful for the moments of inner peace.
Cast out this unwanted wardrobe.
No more colours in clandestine!
The drab shabby (not so chic) curtains concealing my true identity.
My makeup is not for every entity.
I’m asked to write the truest sentence I know.
Hemingway knew a way to interweave words worth more than bread made from the finest patisserie dough.
Scraping pennies to get by the hard knocks.
We do what we gotta do to get by.
Poverty causes ‘bros before hoes’ and ‘chicks before pricks’.
Keeping my pins steady as balls curve to nebulant sides — it incites fear into my inner stream of consciousness, dialogue conflicts –
Savaged by doubt and insecurity.
I’m on a trip with a Make believe demeanour.
One to conjure up more stamina and longevity-
To warn my inner Hecate to hesitate before she dare pro-curate.
Write to recover through seeping, bandaged wounds.
Riddling the mind with infectious curiosity,
To want knowledge is the power I crave.
It’s my security.
Droplets of lonely anguish torment my darkest spell.
I am the white temptress tempted to awaken the beast inside.
Though, I know it will be the catalyst to an eternity of mocking turmoil.
My final destination is not the country I occupy.
I’m an immigrant
I’m a traitor.
Colonised and imprisoned by outdated Imperialists.
The world is full of egotistical folk in full throws of the delirium tremens.
Murmurs of fragile Life keep me close to the fire.
It scintillates what I know is inside — lying dormant.
Ready to drive out the cancers multiplying with faces frozen,
In that blissful look of the ignorant .
I raise my sword.
It bleeds ink.
It is my heart : my deliverance.
I can’t fathom another way to jolt my instincts to kick out, and rise to take another breath.
I’m the one who needs these murky waters to survive . Forget I too need oxygen and gills to stabilise my Eco system.
If my world was captured by a drone;
I would want it to show me evolved into a hybridised pro-humanity amphibian.
Swimming side by side
dolphins & whales ad infinitum.