Month: April 2020

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Thoughts Like A Theme Park (Part 2)

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Thoughts Like A Theme Park (part 1)

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And here is a recording I made for part 2 of this series. I wrote the entire poem below for those that prefer reading as I speak. I hear its more immersive that way.

You could otherwise gaze at the lovely art during the recording, that works too.

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Slow, steady and ever-so routinely,

Words cascade from parts of the universe unseen

Effortlessly drizzling, washing over me

As if my words have gained sentience in an attempt

To deem my vessel unclean.

 

There are many ways to say what I wish to say

But I only get one chance to say it my way.

A way that bridges me with my understanding of peace

Sometimes I feel I’ve found the answers I seek;

Like I’ve taken a long hard look at life’s tapestry

And from that, know exactly where I fit.

But that’s not how life tends to work, is it?

 

I balance my inherent strength and vulnerability 

In ways reminiscent of a tight rope walker

Trying to maintain inertia — It all gets a little murkier —

As I guard my heart like I know nothing else

Like it’s all I’ve ever felt, I might as well — heart shattered, scattered,

Some pieces find themselves lost under the furniture —

Each time — the part that keeps me alive gets a little smaller.

 

I love fiercely, consciously, dare I say ridiculously

I love without expecting, I love like no one is watching,

I love because I can — but it’s within this dance 

That I’ve begun to understand the limitations of man.

 

The love of my individuality

And the desire to connect whilst still being me

Oh, the persistent dichotomy, repeatedly unveiling itself in front of me —

This is why — this is why I sling ink to a maddening degree

Why I can’t stop myself from being entranced with this natural high

Why oh why do you do this to me?

The more I get better the more I run the risk of sounding a little crazier.

 

Erratic in my delivery,

I hit the beat and accompanying piece like I exist within each—

Rib-caged, I am the part that pumps blood;

I don’t believe in fate, but for this, I was certainly made,

And there’s nothing anyone can say to give my thoughts sway.

I lay back — absorbing the moment, wishing to have it framed

It’s the only one like it… and I wish to always have it…

But it’s only in letting it go that I make room for more.

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: SuperPhazed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Side They (Don’t) Like. (Voiced)

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That’s right. I voiced one of my favourite poems. The Side They (Don’t) Like

Thoroughly enjoyed the process and will do more in the future. I copied the poem below so you can read along as I speak.

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I navigate the battlefield pacifying every ill-intender with a collection of Swords

Repeat the prior sentence without the first S

And you’ll bear witness to how it takes a pen, or even less

To bring to attention the distance that exists between you

And the unseen heights of my plateau.   

 

You shout all manner of things yet you know I can’t hear you

You’re all the way over there, and I’m over here

Layman terms for your planet and mine

Perhaps I ought to underline how aligned

I am to the stars. I’m not just another Leo,

I bear an unkempt mane

Thought formation teetering on insane

Why would I roar – when I need only soar,

Break the sky, and from space, re-arrange

My life’s pieces back into place.

 

Your awkward attempts to wither my flame 

Are about as unsightly

As witnessing a giraffe throw up – arduous and long –

Like the time it would take to break down

Exactly where you’re going wrong. 

 

See, with each subsequent step I take

The eye of the storm dilates

With each word, my thoughts levitate,

Marking yet another escape

From the self-sustaining prison

This world makes.

 

Your taxidermist has been stuffing you with garbage

Meanwhile, I jubilate to my bountiful literary harvest

Far-reaching words are at the tip of my tongue

Much like when I explore all your unseen bits

I promise, I never meant for any of this to sound erotic

It just tends to happen when you make a habit of being honest.

 

Look how considerate I am, 

Even skipping a line to let you catch your breath,

I run in parallel with a calmness 

Born from poetry and I being bound in marriage

I called myself a failure, but poetry was not having it

Master of the art, showing me how to repurpose

All of the Ls projected. Flipping them on their axis

Like another casual game of Tetris

Forming a continuous line, that in due time

Cancels itself out.

 

Still don’t believe in my prowess?

Tread the surface I ink for your enjoyment

A Mobius strip – It doesn’t matter where you begin

With each piece, with each end

I’ll keep you in the perceptual present.

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: AngelGanev 

 

There will be more recordings like this in the future. Mostly depends on the length of the poem itself. I will also record poems I have done in the past; if you have any, in particular, you wish for me to voice please let me know.

Thoughts Like A Theme Park (Part 2) will be coming out tomorrow. For those interested in part 1 you can read it right here

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Thoughts Like A Theme Park (Part 1 )

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I ruminate over an unearthly amount of time here,

This medium and I bleed into each other,

A testament to our unspoken blood oath.

Quite the task, telling me and my poetry apart,

Honestly, where would you even start?

You would have better luck counting back from infinity.

 

 A glimpse of my thoughts is like ingesting an Albert Hoffmann creation

My world is like looking at a rainbow and seeing colours diverging —

Criss-crossing, Intertwining, binding and colliding.

Absolutely. In my world, reality and I repurpose a rainbow for shibari,

I hear you say, “Well, by that point, It’s no longer a rainbow”

To which I say “Precisely. It’s become something more”

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: SuperPhazed 

 

New series. New stories to share.

Excited to write this set of poems in particular. Stay tuned.

 

 

 

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Poetry, To Me (2)

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Poetry.

What is it,

But a sequence of words

Tethered to bring about greater meaning?

What is poetry, but a portal into a world beyond human comprehension?

Each line inked cements its worth,

I graciously place one above the other

Like I’m creating an agate stone.

Wisdom embedded is re-current

Yet it goes unheard —

— Much like the b in subtle —

— Poetry sneaks up on you

With a message — an image,

That takes a moment to notice.

Much like the shape of this entire poem:

“Oh, look. A crooked home”

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by:  AngelGanev  

 

Poetry, To Me (1)

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Zugzwang.

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This is one of those poems that serve as my palate cleanser. I feel the urge to shout, but doing that leaves me exhausted. So instead, I just combined past and present frustrations into one amalgamation. After all, writing is what I do best.

Also, there’s a separate recording at the end of this post. A follow up to my last one.

 

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It goes without saying, right?

That what I say to you

Doesn’t need to make sense 

For it to be considered true.

 

You are bound by the world’s rules

You are at peace with a narrow corridor being

The best representation of your psyche.

 

I write about me, more than I write about you

I encumber the page with my struggles,

Involuntarily writing your name in the margins

The teacher always told me to show my working.

Lo and behold, that’s where you are,

In the humdrum of the equation; you are the sum of its parts

I seek answers, and yet, to no one’s surprise

You are the number that makes the problem clearer; easier. 

 

I welcome perspective, but yours I would forever take in doses

I’m not being harsh for simply showing the side you so thoroughly wish to see,

Needling me, with your unrestrained insecurities;

You are an insatiable vampire. Feeding off energy.

Trust me, I know mine is a unique treat.

But that drop is all you’ll ever get out of me.

 

Your words lost their weight a long time ago

Your influence on my life rings hollow.

You can no longer do as you please,

Your attempts to manipulate

Have about as much clinical efficiency as homeotherapy.

 

Seek your value elsewhere;

You are not my friend.

You are not my family.

You,

Are an example.

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: RHADS

 

An example of what some might ask? An example of what I don’t want to be associated with. You can’t claim to have a healthy mindset when you make conscious efforts to be toxic. Either you’re stupid, or you think those around you are stupid. 

I don’t need drama.

 

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The recording I promised in the last post. I talk about whats been happening these last few months. Pretty lengthy, check it out if you want:

 

12 minutes.

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Update No.5 *Recording Included*

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Small status update.

Indeed, I have a voice too. If you had yet to hear it, well, here it is. There are many other posts I’ve voiced in the past; for those interested.

4 minute listen

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: RHADS 

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Synchronicity.

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I shoot beyond the stars, searching for anything remotely interesting 

The path is never straight, I work the bends like Wesley Gibson

To my surprise it’s not yet illegal, having a mind this far-reaching

But that’s the thing about writing — poetry,

It uncovers doors that need opening

Concealing enough wisdom to showcase those that need closing.

 

Apologies your grace. You have no part to play in this race,

I switch lanes of thought in whichever way gives me the most peace

Clocking laps on my mind’s tartan track with inexplicable ease

But that’s a truth I’m encouraged not to say openly

If these arbiters are to have their way

I would behave appropriately

Adhering to all manner of doctored humility.

 

Re-direct your attention if my gift rubs you the wrong way

Because in this world, I hardly know how to behave

I let volatile thoughts loose like the gameplay loop of the untitled goose game

You can’t keep it a secret when you have this much talent in spades

In a world that edges you towards monochrome,

I bear a series of colours — emotions, that burrow themselves within me —  

— Think Dutch tulip fields — stretching as far as your eyes can see.

 

With that said, dear reader,

I would like to take this moment to tell you

That this piece won’t end with a profound lesson

I won’t lie and tell you I’m losing sleep over what’s happening

I owe you more than that.

There is no message. No virtue signalling. 

In this specific moment. All I care about is us, and this simple the truth:

“You read what I had to say. And for that, I love you”

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: mrssEclipse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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