Tag Archives: man

Dichotomy of Man

 

 

Originally inspired by the poem Monster

 

Feathers and claws scrabble in the dark.

 

The sun is a warm distraction

but I am blind to my heaven

and words hit a dark wall,

erected by the king.

 

I close my eyes

And the words spring…

 

my soul drags itself from beneath the pot of gold

to weave an exit.

 

It is a dream and here, my diamond thought hangs

my button, pushed tenderly, brings breath…

 

my skin stretches

my ladder unravels

 

find your own way pilgrim…my hand has turned,

to earth

now

sparks and flashes force a rain of little pebbles

like droplets on the ocean…

 

if only the whale hears my prayer, do I still exist?

 

my words have hit the king

who pockets them and prepares their return.

 

I cry in the night

my fingers reach for the sky and moonlight

sitting on tips like points of knife

sharp and beautiful

 

Am I a wasted thing,

what can quench my thirst for all I need?

 

I want more

my tongue melts

into light on dark pavement

surrounded by opinions

accosted by adult mouths

baby noise

 

My shell is tough but not indomitable

I am one of 7 billion answers

 

My conviction cripples me

In my defeat I find my wings

 

I

an opulent monster,

misunderstood,

in my red riding hood…

 

I give in to the dichotomy and

shrug

like silk it slides and gathers

 

a bloody mess

 

a puddle

of love

 

 

 

Stealing People?

 

To ‘steal another woman’s man’…

The phrase is old and unreliable

it reeks of guilty blame

and shying away from responsibility.

 

Stealing; a concept seen cleanly when

speaking of chocolate and cheap jewellry.

Woman; a word associated with shame.

 

The guilty party is not the stolen nor the thief

but the water upon which the woman states her

ownership,

the mobile depths

the lack of firmament.

 

Stealing a man indeed

whoever heard such rubbish.

 

But what speaks here?

 

The use of abstract to deny the fact; the reality of pain in this world of grey matter.

Does it?

 

Matter I mean, really… DOES it?

Do we kill the abstract also, with our guilt.

Our need to claim, to drive our stake through someone elses heart?

 

It’s not as though I picked him up and put him in my pocket,

then scurried home to get him out

and thrill at my bold action with delight.

 

Or do we make real the theft

by doing just that in our lonely mind?

 

Is the purety of experience lost

in the hackles of a jealous thought?

From Man To Woman

From Man to Woman                                                 Arna Baartz *2006

 

Beautiful and kind

heart open wide

like womb

or

time,

soft

edges undefined.

Man is here

wants to be

loved we see…..to exist is all.

Making the rough

the tough

spearhead,

the phallic reaching, mother womb

fertile fields a sad man’s tomb.

A question soft and true;

See me? I see you. Please see me? I’m here too.

Out of hand,

far too grand and now we’ve lost the point.

A blood-tipped point,

the taste of salt,

a rusty thing no-ones fault.

Beautiful and gentle

a cry…..short and true;

See me? I see you.

Please see me,

I’m here too.