Pisces fever

Talk in my face with a smile, with a smirk

I would never control you like that

cry me a river so I can drown you in it

It’s so good, it’s so bad. I can’t decide

all the wavelengths that’s crosses my head

I am tired. I’m tired of mistakes I keep choosing to fix

Chose your words very careful around me

come in my space but leave that energy outside

I DGAF if you think you know everything

Cross me once, I say oh no shame on you

cross me twice, you’ve got voodoo in your name

hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

I say nothing and you peg it for weakness

I’m ghosting right now , you can join me or leave

You can’t sense my vision so let me do it all by myself

I don’t like you today, maybe try me tomorrow

depends on which of me you met today

I don’t mean to hurt you but I will if you let me

I’m artsy. I’m empathetic. I’m pisces

I can be just whatever I want

please hold back your opinions and doubt

I’ll never say I told you so to your face

I’ll never look to your eyes and say you were wrong

but if you’ll play games, I’ve got a license to play

Thanks for the advise but I’ll take it from there

drop all manipulative tricks at the door

grew up around it so I can smell it from miles and miles

Don’t ever, don’t ever try to control me

Don’t ever, don’t ever try to lie

I’ll forgive you but know you are dead to me forever

I don’t mind being hated for me

but I hate being being misunderstood so much

love me or hate me but please don’t misunderstand

I love you today but I can’t guarantee tomorrow

take me as I am or just leave me alone

I know i’ll be fine with or without out you. it’s all the same

No, It’s probably best if you leave

you’ll probably offend me if you stay

blunts make better friends than people anyways

I say nothing but I can feel every little thing

been crying all day but I don’t know what’s wrong

this whole solar system just loves to play on my nerves

Sit back and observe everything around me

many will come my way but there’s room for just one

what can you do for me that i can’t myself

Don’t ever try to make me face reality

i’ll get things done in my pace, in my time

i’m not put together, Neptune knows I’ll never claim to be

I started writing this and i couldn’t stop

it’s got me feeling some airy type of way

Can’t put it to words but pisces fever is a vibe.

you

I find it a bit comish

that I had to leave you to miss you

when we were together

I cursed you with every morsel of my being

you caused me many tears

not physically ofcourse, it was the feelings you stirred up

the feelings that made me want to lock myself in a shark cage

at the center of the earth and be there alone

lost. forgotten. dead

waiting for my fossils to be dug up by anthropologists eons later

it’s funny how much I love you now

how much I yearn for you

I never experienced this side of you

nor this side of me

it’s like scales have fallen from my eyes

and i’m beginning to peel a new layer of you

different from what I’ve been used to before

and I hope you feel the same way too

that you can feel a part of me

you can see me, as a whole

not a half-blood you loved to loath

me, for not only who I am

but for who I am becoming

oh my I hope you do

because I want us to remember each other

not for the past

but for every waking moment

I’m imperfect. say you can appreciate my mess

and I’d be lucky enough to see yours unfurl too

Love, Your former muse.

Soul blisters

There are sores and blisters on my skin

I know not from wence they came

after the morning light sprawled through my sill

I felt the hands of time ticking backwards

Reminisce on past duende

I was like fluid running between iron framework

some would swear I was too arrogant

I took the form of a space-occupying lesion

The blisters lasted a few years

before they coalesced together like a wave

reminding me the past never hides away

this tumor can only be carved with laser

But this isn’t about the blisters

it’s not even about arrogance

though they all influence my demeanour

it is about the keel i’ve rebuilt since then

I’ve dug out fossils of my being

and wiped off secretion from my chin

i keep pointing into the shards like there’s someone there

to help me climb out of this jar

I’m fairly stronger than a twig

My process is a layer of chaotic wind

It’s time to disintegrate my ship

and healed confidence where shame blisters once were

The process

I tried many times to explain how it works

but really there is no formular to solve this

the mess is alway supposed to be ugly

Something you should hide from everyone that knows you

if they see it, you feel guilty. if they don’t, you feel guilty

you don’t tell anybody and you nurture fear

now there is hole, borrowed so deep you can’t see the end

this all started with your perception of the mess

look at the mess you’ve made

you’ve harvested a basket of regret

i can’t speak right, and i cant laugh right

but the mess could be beautiful too

i don’t need these guilt

i don’t need to worry about others beliefs

it’s the process of unravelling your mess that straps you tighter inside

like a fly struggling in a Venus fly trap

but you could see it as a person

let it know you’re still afraid but this phase will pass

as long as we live, there will always be new messes to process

better to work with it than to push against

there’s never been a formula for it

I am a mess, but i’m beautiful still.

Nya ébok rà

Control isn’t just a word to rhyme in poetry class. It’s the pattern that pragmates the cervixes of life. I knew how to breath, eat by listening to the voices that scream the loudest when my soul is reeling in unfathomable silence;

“Nya ébok rà this is what you should do”

I’m not used to the uncertainty that taints my own voice, or the scent of naivety that trails my skin. I’ve been told I’m too wayward, addicted to carelessness like it was heroine. Control is the word associated with power, they said,

Nya ébok rà, control will keep you strong, even if it’s just a bubble of illusion that distorts perception.

There are daddy issues interwoven in mummy issues interwoven in life issues. It’s not like me to leave things alone and freedom is like the stars I sleep under every fortnight so I could dream in bright white light. When the last piece of me broke away, I ran up the a mountain, pointed my forefinger to the air and screamed,

Nya ébok rà I hope I’ll swim back whole some day.

Nya ébok rà

Presence

Breath in. 5…4…3…2…one I saw a nix sitting on a branch of a fig tree, dipping her toes into the stream of water below her. creating ripples that waned and faded. She looked sad on this beautiful Armenian night, perhaps it was the shadow she carried that whispered chaos in her mind.

Breath out. 1…2..3.4 five, every living creature has a mind, and is therefore equally important. The Owl on the spitz of the old fig was not more relevant than the Nix, and my life is worth the same as hers. I wondered if she could have been sad because the presence of the moon on this night was divine and she wished she could bottle up the milky way and the falling stars, or she wasn’t mindful enough to realise she was more than the feelings she allowed to overwhelm her thoughts;

the state if mind where she wanted the night to schatter into broken shards, prick her skin so she could feel her life force… or anything really. swallow her whole and drop her off the face of the earth.

She couldn’t speak stillness to the old fig, or reach out to touch the elusive moon. The lines between her reality and her reflection were blurred by a spurring internal conflict that could be solved by a drop of presence.

On this beautiful Armenian night I crouched next to her and told her to live in the moment, exactly how it was, listening to her heart beat, not wanting more or expecting less. Every day nature weaves a balance of subtle miracles before our ever dreaming eyes. If we’re lucky, our hearts can capture every butterfly smile our irises have yet to see.

A Sinner’s Prayer

Forgive me o’ Lord for I have sinned

You’ve heard this a million times

it could be tattooed to my lips

I head right at every possible turn

even when I know volcanic rubbles lie awaits

I’ve condemned my self all my life

better me than you I always say

better to start walking the grave than hope for life

for what has hope ever brought to the hopeless

what has life brought to a begger

I am a refugee at best with sticky hands

I know how to stop but I don’t know when

I think today is the last time but it never is

what has hope ever brought to a sinner?

I head right at every crossroad I come

Past the forest, deep into the woods

running up the hill that snakes at every turn

Forgive me o’ Lord for I have sinned

unfortunately it won’t be my last confession either

I’ve heaved and whined and rolled in mud

I say “it is well”, we both know I don’t mean it

I’m thankful for every chance of redemption you offer

and condemn myself every time I fail

better me than you I always say

what hope in life is there for a person who may know left?

Earth’s art

It is impossible to read a book

whose pages have never been opened

some of mine has got sands between the pages

and shaggy dogged ears

because I scribbled words I couldn’t speak

and watered-down thoughts I couldn’t share

The song of my dreams is but a cacophony,

a mixture of voices that drowns purpose

sometimes a ghost serenades me with karaoke

other times I’m enchanted by a siren’s hymn.

I scribbled dried blood on my sleeves

you’ll need a kaleidoscope to view my art

It is elusive even in umbra lighting

But it is enough the way it is

because I was made in Earth’s treasure chest

where no two narratives are the same

Party wie die Deutschen

Since moving to Germany. I’ve done everything except stop and smell the roses. At times, it even seems like i’m purposely distracting myself from everything except work. It was only a matter of time before I would be forced to stand in stillness. The opportunity to hang up my scrubs came last weekend when my man’s birthday aligned with Oktoberfest. Neither of us have visited the event before, so we neither knew what to expect nor what was in store for us.

I wore the appropriate Dirndl mit Schürze, courtesy of a german relative. She also pointed out sweetly, that women laced the schürze according to their marital status. Married or courted ladies always laced it to their right hip, and flirtatious unbethroted women tied behind. Apparently a long standing tradition in German culture.

Oktoberfest was grounded sometime in the 17th century in Bavaria. l didn’t really research the roots of the celebration, but my guess is that it has something to do with the Deutsche love of beer, wurst and parties. Eventually, this month long festivity, extended to welcome visitors around the globe

So I had my dirndl on, and was feeling really cute until I discovered that mine wasn’t the most modern in the swarm of festers. But that didn’t matter at all. What really got to me was wait periods outside the Biergarten. I couldn’t phantom why I had to wait so long, just to buy an overpriced beer. Oktoberfest wasn’t looking so festive for me right about then.

Eventually we made it into a tent, and if you think our troubles were over, you’d be wrong as we couldn’t even have space to breath, talkless of seating. We stood in a line. Stood to drink our beers and eat our equally overpriced Ofenkartoffeln. How delightful!

By the time we left the tent, I was cursing out loud. There were police everywhere, protecting drunk people laying on the floor from getting trampled. Other times, people got aggressive from too much drinking and had to be roughed up by security until the police arrived. We came across a group of men doing Cocaine right there, like it was a norm. I had to ask myself, if Jesus came right now, would I be be saved? would he be happy that I’m here, would he even find me in this crowd?

I dunno.

But we ran into luck in the second tent. The wait was about 10 minutes and as we were entering, a group was leaving so we got seated immediately and welcomed others to sit with us. We got a beer and food and got acquainted with an American couple as well as a group from France, the evening was beginning to light up and the music wasn’t bad either.

My final thoughts on Oktoberfest…. I really don’t know. It’s clearly not my scene but I towards the end of the night, I decided that maybe we could give it another try if, and only if we got tickets into the tents. On the way home, the police escorted the crowd to the trains, this was much needed as I believe as we witnessed many passed-out fellows even as we arrived our destination.