13/03/2018
I broke my heart on you
The way one breaks a tooth on a nut too tough to crack
LMD Poetry and Other Irresponsible Pursuits
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The page is categorised as 'Pet' because that's the closest to 'Poet' it gets.
14/02/2018
Her feet were fishes
And when she sat there, on the sneezing rock
Frankly?
I could look no further than the jewels of her eyes
Gleaming like leaves after rain
I missed a lot of what I should have noticed that day, for sure
And when it was time to go home, it was too early to go home
Train ticket rustled impatiently in my pocket
Yes, yes, I know
My dubious frown was but a mockingly dubious frown
For I, Mesdames et Monsieurs, am a creature of reason
Not like some dolphin, mind me
By brain capacity, they are equal to humans
Why then there is no dolphin civilization?
They would grow thumbs if that was the case, they are smart enough
It's just that dolphins, they are emotional
But I mean, entirely
You ever heard a dolphin laugh?
It's a carefree laugh
No ambition, no worry exists in their world
Happy fools, they are
Enlightened, if you will
And naturally so, for they have no egos o let go of
Hey, sneezing rock lady
I know I shouldn't wish to understand
The quicksands of whats and whys are just waiting to pull me in
I try to just look
I'll take my glasses off, as many of them as I can
I'll fold my ticket into a crane an offer it to the sea
Offer myself
No, wait
Offer the selflessness rather than the self
Nothingness rather than something
I blink and
The golden thread breaks
I'm knee deep in the water
I guess I
Better go
The unfinished thought dancing over my head
Like a broken ribbon carried by sea breeze
15/11/2017
I have toes that are very eager and curious and they grasp things quickly
Wise knees kind thighs grateful ass
My belly is a vast silent lake of tranquility
Fingertips they glow with intuition arms
Deep, thoughtful armpits and a pair of ever-jolly breasts
Nose is where most things start
02/11/2017
Blue becomes your favourite colour
After you've seen it from above
From below
And on the horizon.
In white
In green
And in gold.
Your fingers comb through the translucent flesh
Tiny faces of your fingernails
Sinking
Then emerging
From the tangible infinity.
Just let yourself be cradled
In the giant's sleepy breath.
Let yourself be rocked
Into the blue.
24/08/2017
Today
I woke up to a rubber duck
In the place where my brain had once been
Numbness
Tastes of rubber
The glass jar will protect me
From all things
Exciting
Outside a lazy
Droplet of rain will
Tap stutter
And roll down
My eyes
They
Will remain closed
18/08/2017
The thought
The warm breath on my neck
The first whiff of yet another miracle, yet another trip to the other side of the river of the less-dead
The red river that smells of caramel and humid soil
The fertile vein of Abuelita
So loving she is
She will sing while you pass out from exhaustion
So compassionate she will whip you with realisations you asked for
But didn't expect
She will cut your eyes open
And in her red palms
She will hold your quivering heart
Until it turns into a bird
01/08/2017
This is a recording or a recording of me reading out loud...
Below, the poem, still WIP:
Then with great fatigue
Comes defencelessness
And I can only stand with my chest wide open
Eyes melting under the infinity
Of the same old beauty, and the tragedy
And I know all about my mistakes and that
Nothing could be done
And death stands with me and weeps with me
Half an inch away
This time though neither one of us will stir
Because the spell of awe
Is binding
Like concrete around our legs
Look, it is so empty
The sky
Finally
We are not being watched
The earth sings of mysteries
The hum climbs up to our nostrils
And we glide
Into hypnosis
The one that is the highest form of seeing
And we sink
In this time
From before the contradictions broke apart
24/07/2017
Today is ten years since I started a journal. Ten years of writing almost every day, often several times per day. On the photo below are (nearly) all 38 notebooks I have filled so far.
No, I don't use journals as chronicles, I don't describe the day's events- or I do, sometimes. There are some great days in there and some catastrophic ones, and the ones that never happened, there are bread and butter lists, meticulous plans, sudden revelations, designs, faces, mandalas, sleepy musings, sleepless rants, emptinesses... Unfinished stories, letters not intended to be sent, an entire play in verse and a whole lot of useless ideas.
I wish I could call it a journey- I wish it was a story of consistent growth. It is not. Too much of going in circles or back and forth, writing just to vent or kill the time. I can't say there is anything this habit changes in my life, either, maybe apart from the fact I always carry a notebook with me.
Does it make any sense to write, then?
I don't know, nor will I ever know, nor will I ever care. :)
24/07/2017
On the fifth floor they don't wear jackets
On the fifth floor they walk around receivers glued to their cheeks cords contracting and expanding
It's the money, breathing
It's the sleeping monster they are trying to tickle just enough to make it sneeze
Here you need a spark of madness in your eye
So that you can make a furnace
Where, droplets of focus shining on your forehead
You will work on the shape of your devotion
Sun rises on the fifth floor, sun sets on the fifth floor
This is how you know where you belong
There is a smell of fresh meat in the air
You can't know that
The success will always remain a premonition
24/07/2017
On Love (?)
A clumsy leap of faith
I take
Diving deep into your retinas
Do you know about being soaked?
Wet clothes clinging to your skin, baring everything you've been trying to hide
Do you know how blurred everything is underneath the water
Also, how weightless
Your face
Shines bright amid the floating rays of your hair
Words turn into pearls here
They are all that pearls have ever been
And nothing more
Glowing uselessly
Do you know at the bottom of this pond
There is a chest that has never been opened?
10/04/2017
LMD Poetry and Other Irresponsible Pursuits
10/04/2017
LMD Poetry and Other Irresponsible Pursuits's cover photo
18/12/2016
From the summits of light
I'm falling
And I pretend I have decided to fall
And I pretend curiosity of the ground
And the awareness of falling
Within the awareness of not falling
Is the damned parachute
Weaved from fossilised scream
(Written in 2011)
17/12/2016
Ze szczytów światła spadam
I udaję, że decyduję
spaść
Udaję ciekawość
dna
A świadomość spadania
W świadomości niespadania
Jest przeklętym spadochronem
Utkanym ze skamieniałego krzyku
(Napisane w 2011)
28/09/2016
Dlonie mojej babci
wygladzone praca jak nadmorskie kamienie
ciemne od pasty do mebli
poorane jak oblicze Matki czestochowskiej
zamknij mnie, prosze, w surowym cieple tych dloni
bym w ziemi twojej skory
slodkiej jak jesienne powidla
mogla odnalezc wlasne korzenie
z papilarnej topografii odczytac miejsce pogrzebania sensu
zatarte twarze przodkow
28/09/2016
My grandmother's hands
Smoothed with work like seashore pebbles
Stained with furniture polish
Craggy like Black Madonna's face
Wrap me up in the austere warmth of those hands
So that, in the soil of your palms
Sweet as prune butter in autumn
I can look for my roots
From the papillary topography find out where The Purpose is buried
Blurred features of the ancestors
25/09/2016
Wersja polska wiersza o jablku/ komecie:
Jablko jak kometa
Spada jednym cieciem
Masz zyczenie?
Przerzucasz karty marzen
A gdyby ten kochanek sprzed lat
ten fatalny blad
albo duzo pieniedzy
W ciemnosci zostajesz
Album wypada ci z rak
Kometo, mowisz
Slodki owocu pradawnej przestrzeni
Niech ci bedzie dane wykielkowac
I moca wspiac sie wysoko
Wrocic do domu
25/09/2016
Let me know which one you prefer: (work in progress)
#1
A comet falls like an apple
Opens the skies with one clean cut
Do you have a wish?
You run through the pages of your dreams
If only this lover from years ago
that fatal mistake
or just a lot of money
The last page is darkness
The album falls from your hands
Dear comet, you say
Sweet fruit of the primeval space
May your seed find a fertile ground
So that on the stems of your power
You climb high
Back where you belong
#2
A apple like a shooting star
Falls with one neat cut
Do you have a wish?
You leaf through the pages of your dreams
If only this lover from years ago
that fatal mistake
or a lot of money
You are left in the dark
The album falls from your hands
Dear comet, you say
Sweet fruit of the primeval space
May you sprout
And climb high on the stems of your might
Return home
24/09/2016
Because yesterday's black protest in Poland (against an almost absolute ban on abortion) was not heard, today I express my grief with a
Ponieważ wczorajszy nie został wysłuchany, dziś wyrażam swój gniew
24/09/2016
Some gloomy creepiness about loving your demons:
(all other interpretations welcome)
The long-buried pieces of me
They knock on my door after dark
They climb into my bed, begging for affection
My sleep always too deep
And so each night
I lie next to my own dead body
And I wonder where the black marks on my neck come from
The muddy footprints
Smears of brown dirt
I will have to conceal, hide again
Dig a hole underneath the rosebush
Each night less space I have in my bed
Shorter my breath
Springs moan from inside the mattress
It's not long left until the co**se will claim my face
He will wake up in the morning instead of me
Toss the papers at work
Smash the crystal bottles in the bathroom
Then one day
I love you he will say
Bringing me camomile tea to bed
Will you forgive me?
I am your guilt
I am your fear
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