Sayings For Sale II
Posted: July 20, 2013 Filed under: Writings by one ambidextrous... Leave a commentWhen observing one’s own thoughts,
At certain heights of insight,
One may find some revelations distasteful
And some – the purest of delights.
As illusions are exposed
And a little genius reaffirmed.
Although oxymoronic…
Simple truths remain mostly at inaccessible peaks,
And if one goes a step further to attempt interpretation
As a scientist would draw up his theory,
Is he aware of the limitations?
A respectable lady once asked a young poet
Why he dares bare his soul in words made public,
And the young man answered:
Because the truth, is, as such – already revealed.
© Heath Muchena, 2013
I of July
Posted: July 16, 2013 Filed under: Writings by one ambidextrous... Leave a comment”In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
The ultimate symbol…
And if I am the Crab…
Then the very Word I spring from,
That which is with me; the same that is me…
Is the I of July.
© Heath Muchena, 2013
down the hole
Posted: July 15, 2013 Filed under: Writings by one ambidextrous... Leave a commentAppearances and remembrances lost in
Black hole obscurity…
Failed physics of a potent chemistry…
The impenetrable metaphor which somehow rings true.
It was from the beginning a mystery,
But still I walked in through that door…
You took me in and completed me,
Which was all well and good, except, when we separated,
That is when I realised that if I am already complete I could no longer grow.
© Heath Muchena, 2013
Sweet 6:15 Still…
Posted: July 13, 2013 Filed under: Writings by one ambidextrous... 4 CommentsAll that surrounds me seems well adjusted,
And the harmonious silence of the night stirs up recollections;
Wherein I hear your heartbeat.
The sweetest music, the softest drumbeat.
Remember when I used to rest my head beneath your breast with my ear
Listening to your rhythm?
When all that mattered was us,
When we risked everything;
When it was worth living.
Even these winter beaten trees still manage generosity and give me air,
So please give me something so I know you’re still there…
Because although I live, it’s for nothing if not for you…
What’s the purpose of a life of imprisoned passions?
Yet there’s hope of flowering for the tree when the seasons change,
Hope that the stars will once again light up the sky when the clouds clear.
But does that spell hope for us?
Every one seems better matched
Because you’re not next to me.
I remember you once said that if it had been me you’d have adopted my name…
Even if distance is in the way; the memories are not faded.
Just preserved…whilst I wait and hope for reunions belated and happier days.
And although the compass that brought me to you,
Is for the time being making sure you remain lost to me,
Somewhere southeast …
Know that I miss you still.
© Heath Muchena, 2013