Life and Death

ABSTRUSITY

(meaning: wisdom that is incomprehensible to one of ordinary understanding or knowledge)

Alone, let me dissolve into the stale persistence of repeated memory, where,
to sink, into that moment, long at last, I will;
to time that stained my white and holy life like thick excreted waste,
as lost among the black apostles, self detest infection festered.
My soul did roast my psyche.

Let me watch through wiser eyes as I was suckled dry by rogues and devilled men who
fed me lies and praised degraded hopes in tight knit bondage ropes and
prayed their symbiotic futures whole;
their shackled lives, encased by squalid dwellings, raped to empty, burnt to coals. Then,

let me fear again the death I cheated, let me shy away again from light and love,
as once I did,
and let the drugs inspire hunger, let my ribs admonish friendships;
show me seated on the sharpened iron throne that clawed its way into my life.

Let me remember courage, this, when biting clean the straps
that bent my arms behind my back,
that tied my feet without allowing slack, that stole my mind, that seared my life,
that scarred my flesh and sent me running, set me free at last
from final unforgiving seas that tempted me with futile guarantee
to nurture, care and carry me.

Let me, lastly, naked, stand in stark surrender, found by precious realisation.
Finally human once again! Majestic once again! While
chains of brutal, rusty, rotted steel detach,
and I begin to heal; to patch at last, my puzzled life that, muzzled,
once,
I hanged among
such sordid ruin.
Now a sequined future wheel rotates as I transition
from a past so art surreal,
so damn unreal,
and yet, a history, sad, but passed, that’s mine, alone to boldly feel.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 29 July, 2004

ALIVE

 

I fear to perish early –
dread my soul be drowned
and led astray.
Deceased
I can’t commit myself
to be the best I can display.
I’d like to grow in wisdom
lest my life be worth its end today.

But with dismay
I grow archaic
resentful of my future fate.
I can’t expire starved and needy –
I want to ‘have’
not live to ‘hate’.

Before the end
I’ll search for more:
another route
a higher state.
Then I can pass
become the past
succumb to death
become sedate.

Desiring this
I’ll set a plan to vanish happy:
die fulfilled.
In a deed
I’ll write these words
consumed with grace –
my burden killed.

I’ll live a life of glory now
enshrined in love
that’s mine to build.
And when my mortal skin is shed
I’ll know it’s something I have willed.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 6 January, 2004

MORTALITY

the life
on which we thrive
is so small
amongst the larger
landscape
of a picture
that tells a thousand words

the life
we so treasure
becomes a whisper
of nothing more
than a dream
in the lives
of those
who are dying

the life
we are
the life
we can’t see
is contained
in an egg shell

and its mother
is the womb
of all mothers
from the wife
in which we live
called life

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 21 October, 2002

BY I PASSED YOU

 

By I passed you

like a tornado
on a quiet day
sweeping you
into the jumble
of my world

I watched
as you floated
(unaware)
in a void
of confusion

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 30 December, 2002