#365DayProject

Day 183

To mark the half way point of a project I’ve been working on I thought I would post my days writing today. On 1st January I started a 365 day project. Writing each day I am documenting events which happened to me in 1998. It was a life changing series of experiences for me and for the most part a very harrowing rite of passage.

#Day183/365

It’s always strange to witness the transformation of the cityscape when nightfall descends upon it. It’s almost magical with the lights brightly illuminating the night sky turning the pale cerulean blue above into a deep, inky indigo, haloed by orange tracers from car headlights, glowing shop windows and an abundance of harsh, static street lamps polka-dotting the highways and byways like Ariadne’s breadcrumbs.
For a while despite the cold I found myself lost in this evening glare, so bright that there were sadly no traces of stars above, just a crescent moon peeking behind a profusion of dusty clouds. I stuffed my hands deeper into my pockets, head down, counting my steps and being careful not to step on any cracks in the pavement, I made my way back to the bench at the city church.
Alone except for a passerby with his dog busily wagging its tail and sniffing every nook and cranny of the gravestone in the graveyard I unhooked my rucksack from off my back and took out the last of my apples and with a loud crunch bit into it after deeply inhaling its lush, fresh scent.
There is something very sacred about eating a simple apple when one hasn’t eaten all day. Just the smell of it took me to a place I had only experienced once before when I hadn’t eaten for 3 days just before I tried to commit suicide. I took my time, savouring each bite and when I had finished I lay down on the bench and rested my head on my rucksack. I hoped that it was going to be warmer than the previous night but ice crystals were already forming on the ground and deep down I knew it was going to be a long, cold night.
I fell asleep quite quickly, exhausted from a lack of sleep the night before and from the days activities. I soon woke up though after a couple of hours as the temperature had plummeted further and I was freezing. I rose from the bench and began to stomp my feet and flap my arms to move the blood around my extremities. I had never been so cold.
Eventually I realised I was going to have to walk around to warm myself up and so set off for a trip around the city centre. It was now just after 3am and the place was like a ghost town.
As I was walking back down the High Street a fox darted from the shadows and quickly skirted around the corner escaping my attention. The place was eerily silent and as I counted my steps again and watched my breath evaporate into the night sky I shuddered at the thought of my life just a few months ago living and working in London. Now I was living on the streets, in Birmingham, at least for the moment, wondering how I was going to get through this bitter, cold night.
© Bluecusp Creative 2018 – All rights reserved.

Pleroma

Walking through the labyrinths of my mind
Like a crystal maze, going back in time
Stories create fractals of light
Piercing the retina of my soul
I spent too long trying to be
Someone else’s friend
But now I’m remembering the friend
I left back home who held the keys
To portals where we could be wild and free
She gave me a chance to explore
The universe with fresh eyes
With her the stars shimmer
A golden radiance that could tame
Even the wildest oceans
But through her eyes
I realise I’m one such sea
Crashing endlessly on the black
Sands of volcanic beaches
Crushing myself into a fine powder
Ready to be poured back
Into somebody else’s hourglass

Pleroma

© Bluecusp Creative 2018 – All rights Reserved.

 

Mourning

“The dark eagles, sleep and death,

Rustle all night around my head:

The golden statue of man

Is swallowed by the icy comber

Of eternity. On the frightening reef

The purple remains go to pieces,

And the dark voice mourns

Over the sea.

Sister in my wild despair

Look, a precarious skiff is sinking

Under the stars,

The face of night whose voice is fading.”

Georg Trakl.

Translated by Robert Bly; The Winged Energy of Delight.

Senbazuru

Oh Morpheus, Morpheus lull me to sleep
That I may dream myself anew
I long to sail on an Olive ship
Heading for that sacred place
Where the ocean turns to stars.

Cursed with a mischievous handkerchief
My personal Voldemort
This heart beats with such bitter anguish
The price of exclusivity, my Odette,
You’re the apple of this one eyed sap.

Those blood red petals staring down
Reveal betrayal on the battlefield of love
Fronds pouring from my eye
Weave a destiny like Indra’s net
A cacophony of reflections unveiled.

Just one drop of your white ambrosia
Is all that’s required to cross the rainbow
And reach the crystal castle far beyond
But like a bruised reed once crushed
Your fruit will no longer ripen.

Wearing your wings on my clipped feet
The white crane takes flight
Lifting me to that holy city in the west
Where the sun hovers above the wine dark sea
To remembrances of a love sublime.

Senbazuru

© Blueucusp Creative 2018 – All rights reserved.

Orphaned

India you have ravished me
You have brought me to nought
Purged me, cleansed me
In the fires of your ghazals
Drifting ecstatically across
The funeral pyres of my heart.

I’ve sat in loneliness long enough
Orphaned from the joys of life
Stealing a grain of your Jaggery
I’ve recovered the sweetness of life
Surrendering to the richness
Of your ancient lands.

Orphaned

© Bluecusp Creative 2018 – All rights reserved.

Liminality

Hunt down your limitations
Go through them
Surrender them
Experience them
Put space around your beliefs
Move beyond personal thresholds
Breathe in new frontiers
Find inner spaciousness

Liminality

© Bluecusp Creative 2018 – All rights reserved