Talking

     I am 31 years old. And just now I am realizing that people can't communicate telepathically. My whole life I've been confused and silent. And everyone around me has been upset. Now I know. 

     How did it happen that we've forgotten? How can we relearn? Is anyone else interested? Or are we stuck in this horrible affair for a while longer?

     Now I try to communicate with words, with letters, with sounds; I try my best to reply to e-mails & texts, and outcries. It's a lot of work, a lot of energy ... now I'm tired ... But I'm aware. Somehow it's empowering at times. Sometimes I'm proud of myself ...

     Yet words can only point to the Truth, but will never be the Truth.

Bloody pinky as a means to enlightement

     Ever since I was little, if I hurt myself I get angry. Toes looking for furniture in the dark or coming back to reality & not noticing the cabinet above the head  - and the time stops. Like droplets of water frozen in mid-air, nothing, for a jiffy, exists. And then a huge wave of anger drowns the world. Why?!
     Anger causes pain, it's true - mental, emotional, physical ... Is it the same vice versa? Are the two connected? And what if I could use that pause in time to get elsewhere? Treat it like a door, like a chance ... to enlightenment.

If a Moose were I

     I can't say I'm very social. I can't stand a neighbor closer that 2 miles to my home, and my dogs are not friendly. I don't reply to text messages unless I'm in a mood to socialize. I don't ever make phone calls ... I run away from human situations.
     But I do like dance parties. And fires. And sharing a smoke, even though I don't like smoking. I like to people-watch & to observe. But please don't come up to me and ask me boring questions about my name, my place of birth and my hobbies. I love spontaneous everything, even people.
     I have to get ready mentally to go into work; unexpected "Can you come in and cover a shift?" turns me into a cussing monster who throws mayo at the walls.
     I despise being fake to people, and I fake it badly.
     I'm just really confused about it all. Please don't like my hair.
     But I love to love. And when I love, you'll feel like there's no one else in the Universe as majestic as you are. One-on-one, you & I - we are the World!

When the sky dances above you

     I've been away from my birthplace for quite some time now, over half of my life. They say the water keeps you homesick - one yearns for the water from home. Water is magic. But that's another story...
     There's no way I'll learn how to speak another language like I speak my first. The colors, the textures, the waves and explosions of life weaved into syllables & sounds of my language that I am unable to convey through translation all gather in my chest, threatening to burst out through my tears. The oddest thing happens every time I walk into my native way, talk to someone in my native obnoxiousness - it feels like a thread pulls me together, it's so gooey-pleasant, it awakes me, intoxicates me & throws me into a plane where everything is possible. And so I dream & get drunk, and dance & sing out loud! Such a pattern! - it would make a great dress!

When I read what I write in English, I feel my mouth stuffed with fabric, yards of silk fabric. I can't pronounce all the letters properly. When I read what I write, I hear the accent, see the clouds in my head, feel the fog in my eyes. I still have trouble understanding & expressing the world in English. If both worlds are real, is that a blessing? I can travel between them, change who I am, how many I am. I wonder  ... I always wonder.
Too many "I"s in here ... it bothers me.

art by Michel Ogier