zencurious

[zencurious]

there is —

There is a piece of god stuck within me

It predates me by millennia

I do not understand its mysteries,

I am disconnected from its purposeful source.

There is an old trauma with long thorns

painfully pricking as it moves within my body,

as it embeds itself in various places in my vulnerabilities;

it makes a prison out of my own suffering

keeping me drained and sad,

constantly defeated by a void saturated with invisible needles.

There is an agent amplifying my thirst

my throat is parched, my heart is dry

but the darkness looks different tonight

It moves around me in different pattern

This shift, I recognize my self as the changeling

I feel the restlessness

I reach for my metamorphosis…

__🪶

.

Day 16. August Series

[zencurious]

another swing —

If there is a touch of venom in my courtesies,

If I am poetic in my meanness,

it’s all alright

Suppressed resentment often spoken as snark

My rebellion gathers steam only from that point of almost broken pride.

If the trauma boils over into rage,

If the complaints transform into spiteful ambition,

I welcome the abominable pressure.

Push through, punch through

audacity to defy

grow the will to deny

shatter all that remains of the known shell

one more scream, one more spit,

one more swing

one more, one more

__🪶

.

Day 9. August Series

[zencurious]

muted —

Solstice came and went, without my having noticed

and the fireworks were oddly muted this year

Birds and frogs like mechanical clocks;

Chirps and croaks, white noise blending in the background

Emotions clammy cold and constrictive

around my mind, around my throat

My universe as big as my breath

I’m taking up too much space still

What more can I mute?

The steady rhythm of my heart

Switch my vision to grayscale

I move in slow motion,

detached, quiet,

beyond, beyond

__🪶

.

Day 2. August Series

[zencurious]

Stone heart askew in August 💐

[zencurious]

soft blue mood —

Dip into the unconscious

I fall into the arms of my most faithful lover

Sleep

Dream, monochromatic red or blue moods

leave a faint imprint on my memory.

Safe yet vulnerable

Cherished yet lonely

Embrace then leave these ethereal arms

A reprieve, a deceptive relief

A soft mood to rest again and begin again

__🪶

.

Day 26. July Series

[zencurious]

blue star —

There is a storm in my attic

Energy chaotic in its unsettled seeking

It recycles, it tears,

Searching for its own unraveling, its own destruction.

There is a frustration that then grows stale

Air it out at midnight by the dimmer light of the moon

It’s own dissipation merging with blue stars creating shiny halos.

My stomach is hungry yet I gorge my mind with meager words

a little bit of hell, a little bit of heaven

balance keeping me anchored in this void in space.

I court an explosive regeneration

The beautiful noises of those menacing rumbles

Channel this spectacle into a piercing powerful punch

to deny my solitude

to reorient my sovereignty

reignite this flame,

find me awash in the glow of my own blue star.

__🪶

.

Day 19. July Series

[zencurious]

[zencurious]

faith or fear —

Unheard by heaven, betrayed by tribe

Belief in God a luxury I can no longer afford

Devout christians misunderstanding and disbelieving my miraculous skepticism

Faith or Fear, a false binary - no choice

fuel for a rage I direct where the energy lands.

They speak of faith and say:

Trust that Life is going to be good to you, somehow it will

but the fears churn in my heart,

overriding that promising discontent.

Both feel as poisonous spies, intruders,

sabotaging a fragile soul struggling to grow hope.

Armed with the inadequate lens of my treacherous naivety

and no weapons to embold my spirit

I walk blindly into the path’s dark night

knowing nothing, believing nothing

One step, then another

guided by feels, steering away from the familiar unease, I travel

I can only direct where the energy lands

_🪶

.

Day 12. July Series

[zencurious]

unbalanced —

my skin has atrophied from lack of touch

my heart has petrified having been arid so long

my hands and my eyes, uncoordinated;

directionless without synchronized focus.

This barren void chills me to my bones

no pressure, no friction, absolute blithe inertia.

I tire of this soundless living

yet I cannot cease writing about the abundant despair.

This silence is neither beginning nor end

I’m the middle point of the seesaw

wanting nothing more than to be unhinged

__🪶

.

Day 5. July Series

Hello @picklemafia and @cherrypicked-insanity here is my submission for the prompt void.

[zencurious]

July 😎☀️

[zencurious]

clumsy —

I thought myself graceful

but my clumsy fall from the light weighs me down heavily

My speaking is clumsy

my words spill, discombobulated; um’s and uh’s infesting emotional discourses.

Love burst into my isolated shell,

a clumsy bully breaking my delicately guarded sensitivities

Left with an overwhelming mess,

I gingerly reassemble my shards into a new ornamental sacrifice.

…

__🪶

.

Day 28. June Series

[zencurious]

beautiful, good, and free —

The thoughts whisper, they do not shout

this nonetheless does not damper their powerful impact.

Impact is subjective, based on conditioning

mine being the ease with which I believe myself ugly,

the ease with which I relinquish control to these diaphanous intangibles.

I’m a collector of others people’s good and bad thoughts

they fiddle my emotions like tuning the dial on a radio

I’m a DJ spinning ASMR records aiming to soothe other people’s scrutiny.

•••

I see myself as beautiful,

only in my solitary reflection in a sparsely lit bathroom mirror

I see myself as good,

only through the stingy gratitude trickling from my tribe

I see myself as free,

only in distant fantasies of a desperately wanted future doubtful to come.

I feel beautiful when I genuinely laugh

I feel good when I forget my selves

I feel free when I engage certain works, manual labor being a good one.

What is my Grounding?

What is at core of my containment?

That which makes up my genuine morality?

I ask myself

To be beautiful, good, and free

How compelling that would be!

I can trust those about myself

__🪶

.

Day 21. June Series

[zencurious]

concurrently —

17 years I was never in love

14 years ago a new connection, now tenuous at best

13 years unsuccessfully growing a kind of legacy

4 years studying, 11 years failed mastery

9 years building a failing empire

8 years since the loss of my best mate

7 years of ineffective therapy

5 years, adopted and abandoned a religion

4 years trying to accept that I am alone

4 years practicing a type of self-connection, unsuccessfully

4 lovers in ten years, depending on how I allocate the timing

3 years attempting to heal mysterious symptoms …

This year all cycles converge, fall apart

A hard reset feeling like an emptiness:

no core that keeps me sustained, united

no foundation that keeps me grounded, connected.

12 distorted cycles lived concurrently.

Though I prefer words,

odd that I stubbornly insist on using numbers to rationalize this life

Zeroes and ones, devoid of meaning and sentiment,

A apt mirror reflecting this current state of reset at -1

Year 0. Now what?…

__🪶

.

Day 14. June Series

[zencurious]

long after —

The dying embers, remnants of that last angry flare-up,

turn to ashes at their feet.

Long after all commotion has subsided

and smokey afternoon dusk has morphed into crisp breezy twilight

They stand, still, dutiful and vigilant

offering comfort, offering grace,

offering security merely by the steadiness of their presence.

Long after they leave,

along side our resilience and fortitude

the memory of their bravery lingers

__🪶

.

Day 7. June Series

[zencurious]

June is here 🌼🌸

[zencurious]

one, the many ones… —

Even in one there is division,

of self, of cells.

Devotion to the ones never wanting to feel my touch, to sincerely connect

One whole soul, fragmented -

desperate to reach each one, to try to contain each one, wanting to keep them cherished, in vain.

… [ | ] …

The way to my heart

[through] this gaping wound in my chest

None so brave as to carefully crawl in to heal.

Only beautiful people deserve to be loved

The messy ones demand bravery and authenticity.

I have not been lucky with one after another one

maybe my lucky number was never one

But I desperately reach for one

one in addition to me as one

One after another one after one.

__🪶

.

Day 31. May Series

[zencurious]

some persistent regrets —

“Please pause my discontent, Oh Lord within, Oh God all around…”

I demanded, I asked, I beseeched

Believing nothing purer than a begging fallen from the broken heart of a child’s suffering prayers…

…

I feel it so acutely nowadays,

pure acid hate running through my heart

containing this lava burning me on the inside.

What is the point of feeling this rage

lest it burns as fuel for my next contempt?

…

Living, beyond this trauma, maybe dare to thrive and shine

My world narrowed down to these words,

My growth stuttering, eventually stalling.

Looking at my past writing mostly makes me cringe

Maybe begin today a new unconventional lesson

a new perspective to lighten these regrets

__🪶

.

Day 24. May Series