Amaranthine; a blog of original poetry

 I see a red leaf float on the lake; Changing shape and form with the bouncing water To become the bouncing water.  Maybe the leaf is Bruce Lee reborn; Being shapeless and formless like water... Or at least it tries. I watch as it bends its yellow veins; Old, Yet solid still, With great difficulty To match the water young... Being reborn in the mountains every moment. It tries But it can only try so much. I see the leaf being swept up on a rock... Stuck there; Not quite as formless now As the water around it. There is no rescue now.

 I overlook the landscape of my mind Like a grey old building; Rusted pipes on the side, People hanging clothes at the balcony... I overlook the landscape of my mind And my view gets blocked By the taller buildings Which rise to hide the sun. In a way it’s good... The sun won’t fall on me, And no one will see the ugliness. The sun won’t fall on me, And I can keep looking at these skyscrapers; Tall and glossy But empty inside... No life, No noise... Just people and computers... Just people at different corners Like dirt swept aside To be thrown out... I overlook the landscape of my mind Like a grey old building And feel proud for what I am...

There is a heart in this strange body; This body bloated and contorted Like an inbred potato. There is a heart in this strange body; Sticking out Like a mushroom amid the moss... Kissing the air and turning red. There is a heart in this strange body That does more than pump fuel to turn gears. The heart can sing when I'm sad, And cry when I’m happy... The heart can go to the hills, The bar, The beach... All on its own. The heart Can touch another heart, And heal another body, And save another soul. The heart does more Than to pump fuel to turn gears. The heart Touches another heart Where it hurts...

 The sun drowns And sends out red minions over the water To find help. They reach the shore And slow down  As they pass through those little purple flowers; Like a family on a couch Watching television... The minions slow down Infatuated by their beauty And forget why they swam so far... Liberated from the past And not knowing the future... Stuck in the moment With the shells, The flowers, The free wind... Stuck in the moment As the sun drowns. They realize that they’re waning away And still doesn’t remember the sun... The sun drowns And sends out red minions over the water To find help. They didn’t search, So all they found Was death...

I know of an invisible statue With only its reflection seen in the water below. I know of an invisible statue And no one knows what it looks like... Because the boats and the gulls and the whales Keep disturbing the water, Contorting and stretching the reflection Into floating lines which stretch and break Like moonlight on a lake... Constantly moving around... Trying to come together And failing. I know of an invisible statue And I’ve speculated what it looks like; Maybe a Rodin; Nude And bountiful with masculinity.. Maybe a castle Made invisible to the enemies..  Maybe a handicapped angel Or a god with a slit on his face... No one knows what it looks like... Until one day the water overflows And the boats take shelter. No one knows what it looks like... Until that day When we saw a pile of bricks Looking back at us from the water...

  I look up And see the sun leak through This sieve of leaves Making the misty air visible; Moving away like a ghost Afraid of daylight, Letting the light all the way through To my face... It grows brighter But I don’t move; Stuck there Like a money plant without support Dreaming to jump at the rope above it... But only dreaming As it can’t even try To fail... I look up And see the sun leak through This sieve of leaves... And I keep looking Until I see a twinkle here and there. I keep looking Until there's a hole in the eye; The world swirling Like a film of soap on water All swimming with rainbow colours... I keep looking Until the hole in my eye grows so wide There’s only darkness left...

 I look out from the deck And enjoy the scene; The mighty ocean stretching endlessly... Not liking being stretched... Constantly whimpering In a loud silence; Quiet Yet very audible to a lonely listener Who himself is in pain. I look out from the deck At the ocean; Old Because of the wrinkled water, Young Because the wrinkles move Like one huge heart With a subtle pulse... That touches everything immersed in it; Actually Or metaphorically.

  I look at the hills And see no daisies. All I see Are white palms sticking out the grass; Painted white  With a yellow circle in the centre, Trying to move their fingers Like actual petals in the breeze... They fail at this And none of us climb up. They fail at this... But they do not fail At coming out of the sand beneath my feet, Dragging me in Slowly. I see the ground open up... The lava rising to touch my shoes. I see the ground open up... And I kick back Before it can drag me in. I kick back, But fall in. I’m still there... Forever burning, But not able to die. Forever burning And burning...

  There are bubbles in my blood Constantly rising and popping like lava. There are bubbles in my blood Slowing down the blood itself, Making the veins on my wrist rattle. Here I am looking at the bare walls around me, Such purity... Such grace and quiet... Yet on the inside, Chains break And the gears fall out... Leaking oil everywhere. The bubbles die As the blood is now too thick to boil. The bubbles die... But I die too...

 I see the couple kiss Wearing sacks over their heads; Not looking into each other’s eyes, The lips not meeting... Flesh not feeling flesh, But this dusty darkness Making one sneeze at one’s own face, Making one breathe not the other’s air But one’s own... I see the couple kiss, And they see only darkness. Yet they’re expected to love each other Or at least pretend like they do For everyone else to see They see only darkness... And they won’t find home Separately Or in each other...

 I drink wine by the fire And get lost in myself... I drink wine by the fire As the rest of them pack stuff And unpack stuff behind me. I drink wine by the fire And see in the flames little dancers; All joyful But none Holding hands... No one belonging to anyone else, Not realizing They are dancing to the flicker of the same flame... A flame now mellowing down And down, Exposing the dancers for once In their steam cooked nudity... Before they too crumble away Into embers With no power of their own, Hoping to land on something they could light... Someplace where they can be born again. I drink wine by the fire And get lost in myself... And the rest of them leave without me.

  Wrapped in a blanket With a cup of hot chocolate... The window still closed, Yet letting in a finger of light That strokes my cheeks Softly Like this lover I made up Inside my head... Making me smile. I see you as a cut out... Your hair erratic and blowing about In front of the closed window... A wind coming from nowhere In the blanket of this morning light That sparkles the window... Like the eyes of a giggling infant With its face bright on seeing something Boring to the rest of us...

  The wind blows And balloons fly away. The wind blows and cushion each petal Wet with dew. The wind blows And the sky blushes On seeing us kiss. Then the wind stops to look at us. The ocean watches. The cups of coffee on the bench Watch us too.. So does the crab, The sand And the dead shells on it. We're different, And we fill each other's flaws Like two pieces of a puzzle That fit together best. I'm water And you’re fire. And together, There's harmony. The wind blows And the sky blushes again On seeing us kiss.

  I look at you smile And see a painting; A lifeless resemblance With static shadows and blinding lights... Brighter than the real thing... A lifeless resemblance having life If you look at it from a distance; A distance that hides the subtle strokes, The gaps between the dots, The mistakes... I look at you smile And see a painting Resembling the real thing, Yet imperfect enough To be even more lovable... Imperfect enough To delight... Like a weeping song Making the heart buzz with joy... Like rough tides Washing away moss Until more of them grow around... Like the darkness that traps the moon,  But making the night beat with graceful life... A quiet pulse, An unfelt quake... Imperfect enough To be lovable...

 I weep And I feel someone shut my eyelids Gently... So that the scarce tears can flow down Like the crying image everyone has within themselves. I weep And I hear music coming from me... My heart with its many tubes, Playing notes like a pipe organ; Sad... Yet with heavenly ambience, As if it can part clouds And ferment water. But none of that happens... And I weep and weep Like a wet sock dampening the bedsheets... Staring at the ceiling where the paint comes off Here and there. I weep And no one hears As I keep it quiet Like a feather falling from the sky Gracefully...

  I work on the computer, And the mouse grows legs; Not two but eight... Like a spider, Escaping down my arm Dashing and stopping, Dashing and stopping... As an invisible feet tries to stomp it. I work on the computer, And the mouse runs away Into the trashcan, Into a lady’s bag, Onto the road... Crushed to plastic bits by heavy wheels; The legs very much alive, Join together to form a spider.. The creature comes to the table And I throw back the chair. The creature comes to the table And takes the mouse’s place... Very much alive, But very much useless...