time

ASTEROID

I expect too much of time
in the little I have left.
I am a dinosaur,
and it,
the pummelling to come.

I wait for its whoosh to confound me;
the bending skywards of my neck;
the brevity of my innocence;
my un-vocal surrender.

A wounded animal,
contorted by such clarity,
confronted
by my lack of ease
as I awkwardly expire.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 29 November, 2017

SEIZED

I

am at

a complete loss

to understand the workings

of your mind; the cogs that turn

to wind your clock

have seized

and the only hands

that pass time now

are mine

alone

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 April, 2017

HUMAN BOOKENDS

It is here
in this bottle-necked existence, locked
into days captioned by ticks and tocks,
where time resides in each of us
until it stops,
rotating the same hands
inside the same third dimensional clock;

it is here
where every breath exhaled is a universal kiss –
it is simply one moment and
the space in between this
that binds together our journeys, which,
as uniquely defined as we feel each is,
are all chapters of the same book
we write to reminisce,
primed and painted with the same theme we
create to self-exist,
scrawled by the same pencil, held
by the same hands as we persist…
each of us artists
with the same precise and leather-bound twist

It is here
where we long for real purpose or true faith –
to believe that something
‘other’,
external,
or
majestic
awaits…
but in nothing we trust
yet, cry blame for our fate –
each a different monologue of the same hate;
the same distracting soul state;
the same periodic and prolific bait –
God would not want us, at any rate

It is here
in darkness, arms around each other’s back
that war hangs overhead in stasis,
circling, cycling on a track and
wearing thin our patience
while it leaks like yolk from all our cracks
(we watch it drip indifferently as we huddle tight within our pack)
S
I
L
E
N
T
L
Y
preparing
for the next surprise attack:
we, like wolves, insane
and seeing red with every flash –
our lonely pain inciting hunger,
our deep abyss as black

It is here
in this cosmic explosion,
and it is now just as it was then,
that peace is nought but a tragic parody
of the dreams of passing men,
and nothing changes but the theatre of stars
in lines, in queues, end to end,
enemy to friend to
ENEMY
for decades once again,
consuming pain like greed as our bellies all distend,
living every angle of the lie like it is money we MUST spend,
the broken tales of each of us
portending, true, our end;
dangling one more burden
like a dog-tag for a past we’ve penned
at rest beneath a headstone
in a yard of human bookends

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 14 April, 2017

KALEIDOSCOPE

With you
I spent my years like money
and what is left now are the shells
of every decision afforded;
the skeleton of time
the only backbone we could manage
not to crumble. Our own had weakened.

For many years
tears would leak like suicide
and I became an expert swimmer,
the apostrophe of all my strength
the board on which I’d surf;
later, the oar with which my raft would be paddled.
I cried an ocean
but still couldn’t willingly drown.

Of late
I ceased believing that I lacked worth
and stopped just existing to pay the karmic debt
my reasoning concluded I must owe.
I unshackled and chose to live outside the cage.
Giving up on failure gave me purpose.

Without you,
the tangible clutter we gathered gets dusty
and I can’t decide if I should blow it clean
or leave these fingerprints to remind myself why.
In shedding the weight of commitment
I am no lighter, but my kaleidoscope
now dazzles like a jewel.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 7th April, 2017

LAST SECOND (HAIKU)

Here, the last moment,
time stealing that now as well . . .
no toc to the tic

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 13 June, 2016

UNTITLED (HAIKU)

I have lost myself;
too many words left to write.
My void grows timeless.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 12 May, 2016

MIDNIGHT PASSION; STRANGER’S DREAM

 

It slips,
this new surrender,
past the rusted locks
and caution signs
and crumbling roads
of cul-de-sacs
and vacant lots
and open tracks
to freedom;
where conundrums play
and secrets huddle
and bodies lie
and youth decays,
retired past expired days

Engraved in time,
cocoons and shells
and nests are hung
and quartered for a chance at love;
the way ahead,
receding,
half behind
and part enslaved
(a mask of promise worn from birth to lucid grave)

And,
like an avalanche,
it falls in quick pursuit,
this multiverse of
filthy guise
– of liquid paths and dangerous eyes –
and ruby coloured blushing cheeks;
where every lover’s
heart of sponge or stone
descends to meet . . .
heating,
for another touch
beneath the fraying sheets

And all the while
in rush and glory,
time,
undressing moments
as it passes, flies away –
manifest instead as flesh,
(again)
with wings that only beat
to re-transcend
and scar
and mend in
pounding,
swollen,
rhythms,
c
l
a
w
i
n
g
for the warmth of smothered distance:
roaring
for a welcome end

So,

spaced between
the tics
and tocs
of darting pain
and thrusting cocks,
of cunts aroused, abused, and shamed,
a silence, near, deploys again
the ever caged
and emptied song
and lusting shame
of mouths and tongues,
inclining, fast at last
to go
from whence it came
to soak the mind
and strip the soul
and blur the lines
of time and toll,
buried,
in surrender, whole

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 21 July, 2015

THE LONG WALK (HAIKU)

One moment in time;
an infinite path to fate,
always leading home.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 4 April, 2015

INCEPTION

Inception

Time: a purpose
built for frolic and fancy;
an infinite seduction
so exquisite
that it’s yet to be considered to exist;
a burden so nameless
that life abandons it
almost upon inception.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 4 April, 2015

TO PAUSE

To Pause

Abandon me
so I may postpone
this satisfaction
and
for an irrelevant time alone
subsist on nothing
but my starving need
for your fulfillment

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 20 September, 2014

THOUGHT #438

Today is a reality unplanned moment by moment, but perfected time and time again.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 2 June, 2012

THOUGHT #417

Time’s bride is a vision of emptiness against a backdrop of stars.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 15 November, 2011

A TIMELESS WAIT IN MADNESS

 

Your sweet promise
coats me like a varnish,
wrapping my sticky desires
in an airless
human
skin-tight
vault.

Fatally sealed,
this timeless wait in madness,
this paused intent
of craftsmanship

one unstepped
frozen
foot ahead

contains me like a parasite,
and I, far from drowning,
hibernate within;
mirages of possibility,
seeming eons of time

– bereft of touch –

pass me by, imprisoned.

But wide awake alone,
insane,
inside this vacuumed husk,
I quench my heart

– reflection –

while my hunger,
still un-fed,
provides the popcorn
and the trailers
to the feature film
that scratches at my
fading,
timeless,
statuesque,
and stunted soul.

I wait (believing)

baited and entombed,

for the next civilisation
to unbury me

and recreate a reason
for my being here
that parallels an excuse
for their own.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 28 August, 2011

THOUGHT #29

Time, full to empty with nothing, is something of which there is never enough.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 1 December, 2011

EVEN BEYOND DEATH

Concurrent sessions of geometric,
(explicitly whimsical)
liquified squares
arose from patterned nether regions
of ‘somewhere else out there’
in smothering particles of
truest radiant flares.

And sat I upon the visible dreamscape space
that existed no-where
but outside of my illusory plan,
and cherished, I, the pictorial preempted
in the moment of my after-life birthing
of which polite demand
again beseeched me ride.

Yet not a one of the graphical displays
(filtered fresh from infinite dimensions)
approached me like a complete whole
– neither a partial whole –
but as a synchronistic sphere
of clouded systemic rumours
made to halt to keen attention
but one light-bodied and mirrored virtual soul
such as the sporadically alter-egoed I.

Flowing from one source to the next,
beyond the simple measure of a single point
a blast of knowing flagged a recognition spark
that folded time and space
betwixt one universal structure
unto the
(not unlike symbiotic)
self instructioned mind –
and so to Mind Exist described another route
for Love to spread It’s fastest cycle;
birthing cells and growing rife,
to yield a fresh creation.

And hereupon I watch/ed with hunger
that which transpired time before,
providing what is harnessed now,
with will to still repeat again,
and so again to knot forever
into chains of new momentum;
weaving,
waving,
slipping through and marking too,
another path to God.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 11 June, 2009