Erecting structures in my body to dismantle the flesh covering
What is it you are defending? Time, Essence, Pain, Tragedy, Goods, Money, or You
I would like to, first of all, thank my dear friend Mustapha El Hajj for letting me pen beautiful poetry regarding the following original prompt, “Do you have walls up, and why? Where would it lead to if you were going to build a bridge in your life right now?”. This prompt started by Kimberly J Fitzgerald, rings with my heart very profoundly. And yes it's a proper Writing Competition as well, Kimberly J Fitzgerald will be giving her Feb earnings as a tip if you manage to woo her, which is $32. We all have an inhibitory side sometimes it becomes too hard to feel weightless and free. While we like to feel defeated and whine about misfortunes, we have to seek a way out from the status quo and change it to status-quo-anti.
Build a passage/pathway, go backdoors move around your little vegetable garden, and gain some insight to get rid of the stress that surmounts us often. This poem is about having to dismantle unsolicited boundaries and walls of not just traits, behavior, or feelings; it’s much more than that. It's about breaking the walls which are not letting truth reach you, you are rejecting it not out of choice since you were designed and structured that way. Let us explore the poem:
Indulging
Born in disdain, hoping for bread and milk, rice and love from ilk, like sorrows, anger flushed and left alone to rot.
Hot pot, take your shot, in unending hunger or times of wonder, peers came from outlandish boundaries,
As, you know the norm of hierarchies, yet still, in this shallow drill you play pawn and king games, to beat your own race.
Profound yet unfound, the dreams that you heap praises on, wishing it's all just a mystery craved on annals of history,
Yet it sheds the commoner light on the mystery, of an ecstasy unfound yet found in the organism in chiseled landed property.
Land in hand, Back in the 60s the Indica British left, had no food to survive soul, from eating raw fowl to howling and prowling in dungeons of holy-looking symmetric bowls.
Cross lines and Overlapping Tangents, met with untethered gaze, realizing the misfortune and horrors of ghastly ecstasy,
Stopped exploring the body, or search for self-sensitivity, of knee turning and feet quivering, stomach-churning hunger, and demonic depraved bodily integrity.
Rise and shine, you are my hope in the misplaced ring in wine, like a fly stopped and fell on it.
Out of an accident, or behaving like it was one, or trying at your behest to not make it a test for the rest,
As it turns the wheels of time make you a valuable perpetrator of a forming Alligator with shadow scales.
Shadows follow haunts and taunts, yet you did it,
Break open the matrix. Like a curvature unending, found an opening where you immerse in an ending holy.
After eating books, numbers, and cramming unending charters, enveloping and collecting opinions,
Reading blurry arts poems, and looking for techie magazines, as if the projection existed as bliss. Not so with deceitful acceptance of Poetic subscription.
For what it’s worth Man is never kind, sorrowful, or vengeful;
Even if he had the riches, not kindness; comfortable yet complaining like a willingly Disabled,
To ride the wilderness with compromised senses, yet trying to conquer pretenses, failing to reveal uncomfortable occurrences.
I said I managed to withdraw from a cyclical life, and live in a destination with fruitful habitation, and sorrowful exhibition.
Separating
As the man churns his body with time, from a rag picker to a software developer, from repairing internal enzymes to repairing search engines, from eating bread softies to repeatedly trying meat softies.
Everything comes and draws you into an inert perplexity.
As the sorrows touched, tormented, and yelled, You sense the loss, of none other than you.
A face that was you, in the world of unchanging kingdoms, you battled, but now you are failing, aching in ailing of reasons unknown.
The best of moments are heathen armaments, which just exist as a postulation and a haughty generalization of acing proselytization.
Feed the body with holy water, food, and Mistress’s juices; You turn to fire and ash, hire and brash, calling and falling, bewildering yet enchanting,
Looking right in centricity and opacity, the cries and armor fall on the ground.
Yet I stayed there in imprinting bars and rods to tame a dying man.
Little, little I knew the cosmic light, tracked and traced and followed.
Liberation
As the pain seeped in me, felt like a blood rush, assumed something is trying to kill me, but I become awake amidst the experience.
I feel like my cells are opening up, a force coiled at the base waits for an expression, of forever adhesive coercion to tie the knots of Earth and the Multi-Verse.
As the riveting dancing and ecstatic coil churn the backbone opens up cells of my body as if the shrunk flower is moving with ecstasy.
As the energy wrapped and cocooned in my base moves up and up, in hinges it felt like attaining almost something beyond orgasmic occurrence, that was a deep satisfactory experience.
Some foretellers tell the deed as it is, with ecstasy puzzles with such an encountering visual, of spilling fluids on and off till the cells stop blossoming.
Unending and Captivating as it passes through my heart, it felt like my heart was opening.
Opening and Closing, but the force opened up, this itself feels like an unending bliss.
As the trajectory comes the closing of enchanting opening and tumultuous encapsulating, the coil moves around the mind and it shivers you with bliss.
Blissful and hopeful, forever faithful, and ideas synchronizing and analyzing. You are beaming like a Thunder Volt and the force passes through your head and the lotus opens.
Lotus open and so does your cells, of cuboid blocks forming a bridge,
for you to edge and randomly move to and fro as the ecstatic feeling widens, frightens, and ever enveloping
You went to the source and in a minute the fear arrives and shuts your ecstasy down, like carved and created, withdrawn and old, bold and gold…
I would further nominate some of my good friends to take this challenge if they can and if their time permits: Shyamashree Acharya, David Rudder, Ann Christine Tabaka, Sangita Baruah, Leia Klaudia, Joanne Cipressi, CNLP, CHt, Ray Day, Katy Ramm, Michelle Renee Kidwell, Laurel B. Miller, Mon Esprit, Tony Fretz, Alexander Semenyuk, Aurelia Bliss, Jason Edmunds, Michael König-Weichhardt, Sabiha Qamar, Spyder, and In The Sublime
Thanks a lot for taking some precious time out of your schedule to read my work. If you like it, you can read some of the other poems I have linked below. I hope you have a great day! Thanks for stopping by!!!
Battling senses and illusion of reality with perception
Deva and Devi: Two strands of the same thread
I Start Scribbling and You Came Back Shoving Me into the Black Hole
