When space is silence…

Words, sounds, and space…


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Confused reality

Hair!


I heard something   
         –maybe your name   
                        your voice   
                           or smile   

 Fast beats   
Thin air   
     Flushed skin   

I curl my hair with my fingers   
   doubt my disguise   

Do not face the door!   
 Control your anxiety   
Stop  expecting               him        …

             The more you clutter my thoughts
            the less I can    pretend

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear

 Sudden laughs
Quick eyes
   Restless hands

            I look down      sit up straight      smile
            Impatient hands flip my hair:
left                              right        left left                right

 Sharp footsteps
Fuzzy eyesight
   Confused reality

It’s not you!
            I touch my forehead
              …   let my hair down


_____Adriana Citlali
XXVIII-I-MMXV



for excuse me, there’s a hair in my poem! | dVerse


10 Comments

Pervasive fireplace

  
You are all fired up   
sending flames of distress instead of cozy warmness   

I question you   
Why not colour this night with dancing sparkles?
Why not share your radiant warmness?
Why not show a smoky smile?

You answer in ardent movements
consuming news in abrasive outbursts
flaming this world’s blood reality
No more reminders of hunger
No more reading material
No more war photos
No empty tears
No deception

Your highly exothermic reaction
stops me from approaching you

    Your explosion shakes me

Ignited red paper articles transmute into grey ash

Maybe you are right
We should all flame those words
SHOUT  at   passive acceptance
Question the deaths
the distress
the power
humanity


_____Adriana Citlali
XIX-XI-MMXIV

NOTE: Tomorrow, 20th November 2014, we officially celebrate the 104th anniversary of the Mexican Revolution. Today it is difficult to argue that the country is in a position to have any celebration. I do not advocate violence, and do not propose to use it either. However, I do advocate a reaction, to not accept this reality, to fight for human rights, for security, for a stop of violence, a human humanity, peace.

I cannot say that I have been active enough… A poem can be a start.

Today’s fired-up poem got surprisingly inspired by a random choice of an adjective and a noun (pervasive fireplace) after Marina Sofia’s prompt at Poetics: Make the Abstract Concrete… | dVerse.


6 Comments

Personal mythology

He felt   lost  , lonely, tired  
Life was not what he dreamed of  

Past told a broken story  
Dreams were wrong  
      Present hurtful


A man stops believing in the gods that failed him
A man forgets the gods who forgot him


    NO  MORE  RITUALS!
(… without been remembered, the old gods die …)


A man walks the godless streets of failed illusions
A man falls, drinks, forgets, and sometimes cries


One day, a man stops …  A new belief comes to mind


He chose the name   
he wrote the password   
     uploaded a portrait, a past, a post

An alter ego reflecting a self
                     creating himself
                     inventing a shell
                                –out of words, hopes, vanity

Online he is always happy
but happiness is depressive when no one likes a post

Online there is no time to feel lonely
but he trembles alone when he is offline

Offline he hits reality
a reality that his new god cannot alter


An alter ego invents a man
An offline man invents an online man
(… gods create the humans who created the gods …)


_____Adriana Citlali
I-X-MMXIV

 

Today at the poets pub we are writing about modern mythologies | dVerse.

 


9 Comments

Just a few seconds

Amelia felt confused for just a few seconds. The confusion led to fear, fear to sadness.
She was sad about the possibility of a past event. An event that might had happened without her knowing until now. But if it did happen … decisions should have been different. Maybe the pain would have been reduced. Is it possible that she made such a big mistake as a consequence of ignorance? The hint was the purple feather that was left at her front door by … By who? –she wondered.

Ghost at the door
Anxiety
             Forgotten feelings
A purple feather flies away

Did it happen?

_____Adriana Citlali
II-VI-MMXIV

For this month’s Open Link Night, I decided to try my own version of the haibun, combining prose with a short free verse poem.