Double posting from me tonight. Woohooo....I just needed to keep some things on record. This entry may not make sense to most of you but this blog is to serve my purpose, not yours anyway. If it were for your purpose, then I should be paid. B-) I wish it was possible for me to keep every memory "alive" and recorded - this is but a poor snippet....but nonetheless, still valuable so that I can look back and think "What drug was I on when I wrote that entry?!"

materialistic party animal
enjoys drinking and dancing
street fight over a car accident
24 hours imprisonment
mountains natural surroundings
change 26 butterfly
in pursuit of happiness
loves ice-cream chocolate
within but surroundings affect that
searching still
calm introspective passionate
in touch but not too much in control
gecko agile
letting nature chart its course
in love maybe
with whom
yet to determine
pitter patter
midnight cries
digesting
still together? was ever together?
discussions solutions
question marks
no answers yet


Petal P. Rose

Something to chew on.....

As is my custom, I am reading a couple of books at the same time. How I do it, I honestly don’t know. Yes, of course, it’s easy if all the books do not have the same type of topics but ……anyway…. I happened to be in the poetry/literature part of the library during my last visit and I’ve borrowed books along those lines.

I started out looking for “Conference of the Birds”. I’ve been told about this book a couple of times and I did pick it up about 3/4 visits ago but put it back down, hoping to learn more on Sufism before I read it. One of the books I picked up this particular visit was a book of poems by an Albanian man, Visar Zhiti. Imprisoned at the peak of his prime of 27, for 8 years. Imagine being locked up in a dark, dank room, with nothing accept the clothes off your back and your mind. No glimpse of the outside world or even contact with other prisoners whom you know are within the other walls. No sun, no moon, no comfort of any kind. Nothing to lose except for your mind. Even the simple pleasure of writing was not allowed. I think if it were me, I would have been long dead – probably of insanity.

Visar kept his sanity intact by “writing” and memorising his poems. Reading through the first few pages of his book, I am struck by how he keeps things “alive” in his mind by reminiscing and remembering the outside world. Simple things like “the verdant branches of a cherry tree” or the shoeshine boy. He employs Greek mythology and Shakespeare in his poems, bringing in the likes of Romeo, Juliet, Prometheus and Ulysses to describe his feelings and his thoughts. He writes about how he remembers the outside world – not just through rose-tinted glasses but the brutality of war and the longing for loved ones. I don’t know how to describe his works – my words cannot tell you enough. You must read it to know it. I leave you with two of his poems:

The Condemned Apple

The day gapes open
Like a endless chasm under my feet.
How can I fill it to enter the next day?
Hundreds of times have I heaved myself into it,
trodden upon myself.

Descent into solitude!
I have been left without the comfort of human voices
as if without fire.

Barefoot day after day
I walk back and forth
With nowhere to go.
There is no road under my feet,
No one here to say ‘good morning,’
They hurl a broom at me
And make me sweep the floor
of my misfortune

And I, gone mad, scream in silence:
Hi there, world!
You may have forgotten me,
but not I, you.


The Little Things

Only with a leaf
Can I talk of the forest,

Only a star
Can ensure you are not alone.

An abandoned shoe,
Rouses endless roads.

Light a cigarette
From Prometheus’ pack.

Infinite Feeling

I will love you
fat or skinny
ridiculous and ninny
if that's part of you
it's the way you were meant to be

love you when you are down and out
even if we go without
life without love is a starvation
worst than famine and drought

that's what makes the world go round
a merry carnival
a kid's laughter in a crowd

I will love you
even if you bore me
or wear me out
I love you without a doubt

Petal P. Rose

Addiction

I had a thought
Didn’t find it from the ground
I’ve gotta, gotta write it down
Urgency most profound

Do you know where it’s found?
Do you know where I got it from?

The thoughts came from my head,
Got it from my head
From my head

I had a dream
That I was running wild and fast
Down by the meadows
Weeks slipping past
Way past the shadows

Dreams came from my head,
Got it from my head
From my head

I found snakes slithering, swords afencing
Pretty rainbows, my own pot of gold
Private seductions, ignored instructions
Passions uninvited

All from my head
Got it from my head
From my head

Petal P. Rose
*inspired by a song from Diana Schuur and Elmo (yes, Elmo from Sesame Street)
Yes, I do watch Sesame Street

About a girl

Strong tea

darkly acerbic

how sweet

take a sip

devil's chalice

beware, it scalds

Deceiving

tongue numb

bitten now dumb

Petal P. Rose

Conflicted....

"I don't know what to say or how to react. Emotions escape me as do words. Numb. Correct. That is the word. Numb. I anticipated bad news but not of this nature. Like chocolate, it was bittersweet. Sweet for him. Bitter, me.

I can't blame him for what's happened. It was before me. A consequence of a previous chapter in his life. I am the current chapter - it's still being written. Like a child who has lost interest, the book remains open with a pen thrown carelessly at its side. It is up to me to weave the next line. The happily ever after."

Maybe.

Petal P. Rose

Shadows

I can't sleep at night
the people, the people
all black and blank
I can't see their faces
but I feel
my heart pounds, panic arising
choke back the scream
swallow it
they are grabbing me
Don't! Stop it!
I don't want to fall
I can't stumble
they are chasing me, chasing!
Hail Mary full of grace,
the Lord is with you,
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
Faster, faster, they are gaining!
Pant, gasp, pant for air
Holy Mary Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death, Amen.
I expel the last line
I can't rest yet
they are still there
there, lurking, anticipating
I am tired but
I can't sleep at night

Petal P. Rose