You are the Feast

It can be your own mind that makes you trip
Cower and wince in pain
As if there’s a burning oil on your skin, you try to whip it off but you can’t

because it’s inside your head.

Something else poured that oil in
Spreading through inside your arms- not outside, it’s on the other side of your skin

Nobody can see the blisters forming on that side
Except the tears and dark circles of exhaustion around your eyes
You wonder why you can’t make it go away
Its 2018- you should be on top of this, but this toxic burning sensation is an age old poison

Where the only cure is that you survive it through before it kills you

You wanna scream and go wild
There’s a wildfire burning the forest of tranquility in your eyes
But its on the other side.  It’s inside of you. It’s in the world. of you.
Not the world you live in.

Why don’t your tears extinguish the flames
you hold your breath, for as long as it takes- yet the flames continue searing with dark shades of blue

something else poured the oil in, something- or someone, some how

fed the snakes slithering beneath your skin

and now there’s hell dancing in excitement, ready to devour what it has prepared with delicacy.

you are the feast. roasted and rattled.

all inside of your mind.

but something brought it in.  something real, something actual

and part of the world outside.

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“An Essay on Criticism”- Alexander Pope

“A little learning is a dangerous thing;

drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:

there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,

and drinking largely sobers us again.”

 

This is a segment from Alexander Pope’s couplet An Essay on Criticism, from the 18th century.  He wrote this when he was just 23!

When you learn a little, you become amazed by discovering what it is to see.  As if the token of seeing is all you need.  When you get lost at sea, surrounded by all hues of blue, you realize- that truly, you don’t know, and only see as far as the sea surrounds you.   It humbles you because you experience how much bigger it is than you.

when you see it from afar, off the coast on a beach, the joy at shore makes you think that this- this is galore, this is magnificence, all-while still remaining in your little world.

Not until you drift through and- by God’s grace, great waves swallow you and leave your short-sight at bay; you rely on none but your heart to bare what’s manifest before you.   because it’s too vast for your eyes to concur.

Don’t be a monster, you’re not a monster

Please don’t be a monster
Don’t let it devour you
It hurts to hurt but
Don’t let it seethe you
Remember when you were a little girl
And you would try to see it through

Don’t be a monster
Just let these feelings pass
Think of all the soft petals
Brushing across your rosey cheeks

Its okay, you are still you
They are just old
And hurting to make it through
Be nice to them, and work for them

They raised you with love and honey
And warm milk and enough money
For you to grow and smile

So remember those smiles
Remember their smiles

You are not a monster
So don’t be a monster
Don’t let their harsh words devour you
They still love you
And always will love you

Your mouth must hold the thorny roses
For their empty vases
Because they poured all their water
Into your empty glass
So you can be full and
Face the world of faces
And be quenched to face its heat
So don’t ever slip and beat
And make yourself feel weak

Serve them well with your full glass
And hold their thorny roses
So you all can smell its soft petals

And plant their last smile
For their short while left.