“I don’t sweat. I sparkle.”
Category: Poetry
Bullets of Adamantine
Occasionally, we come across a piece of work that wakes us up. This is one such work. If you feel so inclined, give him a follow. You won’t be disappointed as he writes as though a constant flame is burning deep within him, i.e., he’s always on fire. Yaaasss!
Please show the author some love via the “Original post.”
Peace.
On the patched road,
I am gone. My body departing
scene of mischief and parades
have passed this way.
No future to hide these nulled avenues.
I am skipping town till I find
the rooster who soar.
These are indefinite times. All my
moon gazing turned over.
Nothing like a good surprise.
But the stigma is a packed gun,
bullets of adamantine.
Leaving the body behind,
I am skyrocketing into the space –
my partial smile
and no other –
the partition of my mind challenged.
Dip a boat into my asterisk I have pulled
over my neck. Fever is complete
but the vortex keeps pulling me.
The drama is off, a misfit tragedy
but I escape the land where the grazing sheep
are nipping at the grass –
I am taking the high road to jeopardy.
© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2019
Image Source – http://www.availableideas.com/60-clever-abstract-iphone-wallpapers-for-art-lovers /
One-lined poem: Beauty
Taken on my walk during my lunch break on January 31, 2019.
They flaunt their wings and wade in the water during a cold snap–each of them reminded of their fittest survival tactics; no flying to the deep South now.
Mortality
I sit…
Tiger Balm filling the air.
Injured
But
Restored.
Age is creeping up on me
Fervently devoted to reminding
Me that mortality
And all its counterparts
Are HELL on EARTH.
We
Suffer
To
Live.
unconditional
My dad called last night. We had that talk about me being bisexual. I had wanted to be able to sit with him and discuss things in person, but according to him last night, he had something “weighing on his heart.” He just came out and asked me after prefacing it with how much he loves me and how he’d never stop, also stating that no matter who I am, I am his child first and his love for me will never change.
Him being an Episcopalian preacher has no hierarchy over his love for his child. He also said that he’d known for years but didn’t know how to approach the subject, but he’s glad that I was open with him last night, that I shared myself at my full capacity. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, it was like a casual conversation. I’m grateful for that. I believe, this will open up new doors for us. Expressing how this makes me feel has no words. I don’t think they have even been invented yet.
We all have our skeletons. I am happy mine are out of the closet.
