the witch

By -
connecting the dots
the wig
the pen
those shameless bare legs,
that pressed black lipstick

i don't care for her hair
so why
does she?
it's a power struggle
jocasta and the world

so, like oedipus
i remove my eyes
to force
a change
in my perspective

it does not really help
i can still hear her voice
unclear
confused
i flee my own sense

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

from the corridors of evelyn's mind

By -
a couple of days ago i came across the following poem from evelyn amber beltser , and was so moved i simply *had* to translate it: .ככה זה טוב ככה זה טוב - לא פחות ולא יותר יותר, יותר, יותר" - ההד של הקיבעון" - .משוטת במזדרונות של המוח ,אם הייתי בית מלון המזדרונות האלו היו הקומה הסגורה שלי .שהמעליות לא מגיעות עליה .בכל סרט אימה מכובד יש כזאת ,לפעמים אני חושבת שלמרות כל הקירבה אנחנו כל כך מרוחקים שאם התודעות שלנו היו כוכבים עדיין הייתי יושבת פה ומחכה לאור של אחרים להגיע that's good. that's good - no less and no more - "more, more, more" - an echo of fixation sails through the corridors of my brain. if i was a hotel, these corridors would be my sealed floor that the elevators wouldn't reach. every respectable horror movie has one. sometimes i think that despite all the proximity, we are so far away from each other that if our minds were the stars i would still be sitting here waiting for the light of others to arrive.
Read more

the death march

By -
one foot in front of the other day after grueling day my time marches behind me with a gun to my back looming larger and larger as we all walk towards the abyss billions and billions of us marching together each desperately clutching at whatever nourishment presents itself some shove others out of the way, or ride on their backs some hold out helping hands and lend their shoulders for support and some just shrug their shoulders, and lie down while falling is inevitable how we march in the face of its inevitability expresses our truest selves when we have time to look up, the views can be incredible when we connect, our love makes everything worthwhile but my dreams feel like someone small standing before a massive wall i wake up each morning to the sound of the beating drums of the times the thudding of my heart in my ears as i try to watch my footing and escape my worries about the future live my gratitude, because acknowledging it is not enough never enough ju
Read more