Poseidon’s poised on a precipice, Languishing lost in Moments of melancholic malaise.
Craving numbing night, filled with deeper darkness, Self-indulgently succumbs to
Soporific Laudanum-like liquid- Purgatory-pummelled merriment, Languidly dowsing spirit. It reeks of putrid powerlessness Yet, repulsed by broken bridges to freedom,
An impulse to extricate. Allows thoughts to settle, Words tumble forth- Moving pieces, sorting senses, By a glimmer of Apollo’s light, Combining motes of inspiration into life.
Abstract watercolour and ink painting from a few weeks ago
On Thursday, I was thrilled to receive lovely feedback about my paintings and poetry. I was inspired to wax lyrical, below is the result.
Seasons shift
The southern freeze hasn’t arrived, yet, Stepping out into a chilly ten degrees Elicits a soft billowy cloud. Echoes abound in the pre-dawn inky silence, Like deep squeak footsteps in snow. A trail of taillights illuminate the Trip from home to train. Others whoosh past us on their daily paths. Clearing the trees, the ice white edifice stands resolute. It’s cold magnetism lures commuters into it’s depths. Thankful for a black, long sleeved layer, My thoughts link back to the dark decades, Of deliberate anonymity and self discovery; Uniformed in raglan and denim. Compromise tempered the giving into temptation. Onboard, the sleek serpentine capsule streaks, Illuminating the slumbering surrounds. The warmth of sms’ from home and online messages Soften and brighten the journey as the seasons shift.
Soft, drowning, slipping; darkness Of heavy lidded slumber Creeping up to steal the light. Eyes closed, relaxing in to Drowsy, down plunging, black hole.
Loosing, grip, realness, draining.
Mirtanza warning; ‘may cause, Drowsiness and may increase The effects of alcohol. If affected, do not drive A motor vehicle or Operate heavy machinery. ’
Spanning decades, fear’s icy ectoplasm shocks my heart. Destination scene’s known as lucid dream materialises, only the route varies.
Deep within a dwelling, an unobtrusive timber shuttered room. A postern door opens to an unremarkable tree crammed yard. Overgrown spiky, entangled stems, ramble. Daylight barely penetrates the gloom. A sodden carpet of mildewed leaves, twigs and decay smother the ground.
Heady damp earth scent permeates my being as unseen hands claw, scrape, shovel, revealing a petrified hatch.
Dark downward sloping subterranean passage snakes forks, twists. Roughly hewn stone echoes footsteps, breath, rustle of clothing. Stepfather’s flaccid luminescent presence lumbers alongside.
Ever further trudging through the sordid depths. Always aware of being followed, no sight nor sound. At last, cavernous space reveals an ovoid mound. Knowing it’s secret, I turn to leave the cadaver, never will she make thirteen.
If I am not guilty of wrongdoing, why the anxiety of being found out?
Reflecting while writing; perhaps this is the resting place of my innocence and suppressed femininity.
Bored dismissive scrolling. Seditious libel pollutes. Venomous assumptions flash. Searing discontent morphs into Dank depression to distort reality.
Ego aimlessly destructing self In malicious derision. Rank regret rots, Withering to hopelessness. Despair pervades, to numbness.
Listless countenance portrays Unreadable amassed barriers. A carcass weighed down with Stubborn contrition, shame, guilt, Misguided pride; inner derision. Short lived thoughts of rebellion Come to naught.
Sitting in the garden, gazing at the seemingly erratic flight of a black- white splodged butterfly, I thought, self indulgently, I don’t spend enough time creating!
A glance at the pictures on my phone presented a shot of last night’s Netflix movie on pause. Taken through a gold banded champagne flute.
2067, an Australian dystopian tale of synthetic oxygen sickness and time travel, delivered perfectly.
Much digital wizardry; manipulating perspective, colour and tone, yielded a satisfactory image, herewith posted.
theINFP 