fire & smoke

She was the fire in my chest,
the volcano in thine breast.
Albeit my ice heart,
she burned bright and she burned blue.
She made my glacier part,
And my soul flew.

Mine own lungs’ oxygen kindled her,
as well as the brazier she lodged in my ribs.
Now she burns no more,
She left my core sore.
All that’s left is to vomit ash.

Sometimes at dawn if I am lucky,
I find my soul’s dew,
ruined waters of my spirit.
Even rarer i find a heavy fog,
or a light mist.
As though she burnt bright,
Even if only for a night.
On those days i am a kite.

And she is both the fire and the smoke,
devouring me, lifting me or choking me.

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Queer little twists and quirks go a long way into the making of an individual.To suppress them all and follow clock and calendar and creed until the individual is lost in  the neutral gray of the host to be less than true to our inheritance….

Life, that gorgeous quality of life, is not accompanied by following another man’s rules. It is true we have the same hungers and the same thirsts, but they are for different things and in different ways and in different seasons….Lay  down your own day, follow it to its noon, your own noon, or you will sit in an outer hall listening to the chimes but never reaching high enough to strike your own.

Virginia Nash

The attempt to infer existence from thought is a contradiction. For thought takes away from the real and thinks it by abrogating its actuality, by translating it into the sphere of the impossible.

Kierkegaard

The word ‘spirit’ has all but lost its meaning, and the human mind itself has been impoverished. For, though we may discuss endlessly what is the real difference between man and animals, there is no doubt that man is the only animal who is influenced by its idea of itself, so that lowering the status of reason has lowered the status of man and undermined to foundations of his dignity.

Reason initially considered as absolute and capable of solving all problems, finally seems to remove all problems by degrading itself.

Roubiczek

collegiate

Bright eyed and bushy-tailed,
freshly graduated high-schoolers,
scurrying and prancing,
Miles from the nest,
Glittering new apparel to boot,
Oh the sweet scent,
of clothes new to the touch,
nascent to knowledge and freedom,
that which they simply crave.

Now deeply set in the environs,
New appendages, less confusion,
tightening of freedom’s yolk,
Realization of the intensity of knowledge,
adulthood,
Lacking of the requisite organization,
Though all is not yet lost,
After all,
We are young,
We are free.

Scholarly maturity,
Inability to rid sins of the past though,
Farther away from that oblivion,
the daily battle of routine,
the tug of war between lethargy and discipline,
revelations of unleashed desires,
Wires of the intimate and impersonal interconnecting,
Surprisingly so.

Visitors yet again,in converse,
the elderly among the bustling babies,
Sleepy dozing eyelids,
Symptoms of that quadrennial fatigue,
Less of that prancing,
sluggish treading to the next …
Adorned in frocks and hammocks,
the circle clocking its final quadrant,right
Celebratory collective fear and cheer,
A burial for all that was,
Birthing of that which awaits,
Cheers, cheers,
May we again be bright eyed and bushy tailed.