perfection

TE WAIRUA FREE (‘The Free Spirit’)

My spirit needs mending but I have
no coloured thread
to darn these fraying burdens

The eye of this needle lay gaping and empty
and I am standing on its edge ready to fall through;
a knot to my ankle and my fast surrender
and I’ll fly deeply in to weave new dreams:
a fresher self with perfect stitching
– an un-perished disaster –
still surviving in spite of her erupted soul

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 19 May, 2017

SPOKEN WORD WOMAN

You might not like to see my fat jiggle, or my butt wiggle, but this body has carried me farther than your giggle ever will.

It might not thrill you, but I’m a no-frills woman who takes what she has and makes with it her own – and lets not pretend, I have more than you know beneath these clothes. There might be rows and rows of dimples and wrinkles and obvious freckles (that to some might be cute) but under these puffy cheekbones is a skeleton I call home, and it’s not yours (thank GOD), but it’s worthy of knowing.

It’s your loss if you choose beauty over brains and heart and THIS thinking mind. I might have a long way to start to be someone you’d find yourself watching through blinds, but I’m a damn sight better than someone without the courage to stand wherever she lands – and if that’s behind, then that’s where you’ll find me. That’s where I’ll sweep my floor and make my bed, and, with pity, watch YOU instead to discover that not everything ‘pretty’ is worth uncovering, or owning, or smothering with pride, because, for those with eyes WIDE open, there’s nothing worse than a soul smashed and dried with a hole that leaks powdered ego, nor the upper-class battering eyelashes of a pointless romantic who would rather own lavish belongings than dance in her heart with far less than what she ever dreamed to start with… and woe to all if she ever had to depart this earth without her heels and her silicone breasts and her lipo-suctioned stomach and thighs beneath that little black dress.

Woe is me for laughing at such perfection, unimpressed.

The truth of where I am in my life, and what I have, and how I give it all when I can to others is what keeps MY story so grand and worth more sand than all the beaches combined, although, in this body, all that matters is INSIDE, and not sun baking, or swimming, or shopping, or dining, or making up lies to refine me. I am THIS, just what you see, and if you don’t see me matter-of-factly then I won’t miss you, exactly.

Oh, and what I also won’t miss will be wishing I’m something more than I am which is smaller than my clothing size – but still ‘too large’ in your eyes… but that’s YOUR lie because you’re controlled through the media and told like a child what you should want and should need – and, furthermore, you are blinded by greed, and blinded by fright, and blinded through – God forbid – actually SEEING.

I ponder what company you will be to yourself in your house or your mansion with nobody else (all alone)… Maybe not now, but just wait for a while and you’ll age, and you’ll moan, and you’ll wish you were at home with your path and your decisions and your personal mission… and I’ll envision (through my second sight: a premonition) a TRUE vision of you enslaved to your fantastical and ‘brave’ dream of nothing but perfection; of washing your life of mistakes like erasing infection… but it’ll all be fake… And, sure, it’ll be your cake and you can eat it too, but don’t go waving it in MY face. I don’t want any of yours, no matter how hungry I feel, and regardless how poor.

You are a disgrace. I don’t need a cake to celebrate my present state or my coming fate. Nor would I offer you a bite from my own plate. The less of you I see the more I satisfy me, and my larger-than-life conscious mind will be FULL for eons more time, which is far, FAR longer than you’ll ever, in your ‘right mind’, be privy, or one day, ‘destined’ to find.

Now that’s a party in my opinion – perfect, infinite, and exquisitely divine.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 17 October, 2015

THOUGHT #454

Perfection is everywhere; the mistake is in thinking it’s to be reached.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 18 January, 2013

THOUGHT #394

The perfect human being wanes in comparison to a perfect human, being.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 5 September, 2011

WRITER STIMULUS

 

Your perfect lips
speak volumes,

an outline of their own

creating a story
of a thousand possibilities
straight from the mouth
of the beast,
the hidden tongue
of the devil,
and the mind
(digesting this author)

– the mind –

of
a
GOD

Your eternally paged fiction
stands alone,
(unseating its writer)
awaiting more images

– square jaw, naked mouth –

– bedroom lips –

to express the next chapter
of my printed vision
processed by a
hungry and
adulterous
need.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 25 August, 2011

THOUGHT #231

What is the purpose of a polished gem, if not but to prove that life is the perfect reflection.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 25 November, 2010

I WOULD, I DO

 

If I could depict the substance of my heart,
this mass of space (this massive room!)
would brand a masterpiece of perfect art.

If I could write,
the composition would neither start nor end:
the meaning lost on tongues of lovers.
Yet, spoken soft or written proud
your name would glow its fame out loud;
expression shining strong and sound.

If I could activate emotion,
unhindered,
I would sway in craze;
but movement knows not this commotion.
Impeded,
but just,
with solitary devotion,
I mind the thoughts.
In silence I thrill.

I love you still.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 July, 2003