January 24, 2008
For the Critic of Ideas
The implausible still interests me.
I am amused
when someone states
an interviewee is insane or mislead
when everything / anything
on a certain level is absurd
and over weighted.
Our earth games are just that.
At worst we see glimpses
toward wisdom as absolutes
and do not reach beyond illusion.
Free mouthed hypothesis
is in the same sinking earth boat
as its critics.
At best we can look on in a half smile
and wonder how anyone
could believe like that,
bring it no closer to us
and let it fall away…
laughing, if we must.
***
Probably the Truth
All my life
my being has been
intense drama in my preceptors:
ultra passions with
multi-layered meaning
and sensations.
All the awesome beauty I’ve endured,
laughed and cried
through the stratosphere...
I believed it was shared
and understood.
People reacted to
my warmth and love
but they were not there
with me
but trapped in their own meanings
and needs.
Neither was I there for them
but trapped in my wild pleasures
and weighted misplacements.
It is the illusions we share
not the actual path.
The most fantastic journey
each must take alone.
***
Graves Disease
Heart and lungs taxed.
Neurons confused
and overloaded.
Steel mind.
Still mine.
Steal mine.
The alien
In the tree waves.
The eye in the bark
never winks.
Rankled vibes
Wrinkle mine.
The tree stands still,
rooted,
responsible for only this:
Still mind.
***
Saving Love
I dreamed of a kitten I loved dearly.
I was hurting
as I cherished and protected
this innocent creature
that accepted and returned my love
without betrayal.
Then I realized I had not fed it
or given it water in days.
I had been so consumed by grief
I had hurt myself and my beloved.
I ran and filled a bowl with water
and the kitten lapped it up
But the bowl was tiny and hurriedly I refilled it.
I began to look for food
but I had none.
I awoke while searching,
hoping to feed my love
before it died.
***
FIGMENT
Standing on air,
tender from birthing joy,
the fall is swift
through the clouds.
It's the mind's toy,
the projection of a bad movie
that starts out well
but crashes.
Hope and fear.
Hot loneliness.
A fine mist dew
washes
with delicate fingers
and we are reborn
with dwindling pain
diffusing into the atmosphere.
***
Belinda Subraman, after 18 years in El Paso, is currently residing in Ruidoso, N.M. She continues her international podcast, BELINDA SUBRAMAN PRESENTS, available free on iTunes or from the site: http://belinda_subraman.podomatic.com. Her main website is www.BelindaSubraman.com