Vitamin D

The sun was a blessing today. It escalated my mood, from the very morning. Though a little chilly I sucked it up and let the sun sink in. It was gorgeous.
Why do people say gorgeous, "It's a gorgeous day today". The definition of gorgeous is: beautiful, very attractive or very pleasant. Haha I guess that is why. That makes sense now. I thought before it is a gorgeous day saying it is a pleasant/beautiful day but beauty is defined by the eye of the beholder. Beautiful could be when it is raining softly when the sun is still out. A friend called it 'Monkey's Birthday' but I never understood why. But even some people are most content, on the verandah listening to their music whilst the rain plays to its own melody, or when it is foggy....
I don't know where this was going but yeah.

Basically I had a great day.

It all started with do you remember...

-

I've looked back on my posts last week and it has shown a rollercoaster of emotion, I resent some of things that I have written especially my last post, as everything has made sense once again and I'm no longer angry but understanding. I just needed a clear head and be rid of the judging that was clouding.

notice

do you need to see me buckle at the knees, sweating at the brow, feeling nauseas and pale to know that I have problems though I may not show it. That stress has once taken its toll before and was not pretty. Do you really need me to do that?
Because I have before and I'm not inclined to do it again, unless you want me to make a point.

It all started with do you remember...

The drought I feel

I may be tired right now, maybe even delusional after doing a full run of homework, maybe a little of fool typing the last poem 'Her Flock' to return and do another one as I drown myself into the ocean of Adele and 'Someone Like You' 'Turning Tables' and 'Set Fire to the Rain' are all on repeat.
I may be a fool but I can't help what I feel so here it is:

Tears run dry,
gone and blown into a gust
of wind and are no more,
but salty, red dust.

The banks are cracked,
The lining losing its moisture,
the stagnant dry air hitting glassy eyes
and yet, they stay wide open: no cries.

The dirt is hard,
the grit harder.
The glue is has now disappeared
which was used to keep it together.

Her eyes shut; then open
Open to night
where the cold air sweeps through
the dingos howl as the dead silence brews.

The next morning the same,
Tumble weed passes
Animals become lame
die out, dry out in masses
and what is left is a plain of carcasses.

Days turn to nights,
The cycle wains on.
Time flys
and it is still dry.

Parched and withering,
the buds inside are wilting,
no growth, no life
they are buried.

Buried deep under sarcasm and wit
Now your mind clicks
As you have redeemed understanding
Of what the poem is concerning.

The abundant and fresh river system,
now gone as my veins are fading
into nothing, drying up right up to the source
which was the next target.

The heart; now resembles gray slate
cold steel strong beams.
Reconstructed and tough
and after a little more buff
all will be lost from the very beginning
when the last rains had fallen
and now they aren't winning.

But now what is left
Is dust, grit and iron.
A western movie, Lake Eyre
where the drought rides on
until the seasons rains are reborn.

It all started with do you remember...

Her Flock

I'm the watcher,
what goes on below
is either serene or chaotic
and both in full throw

I watch on a hilltop,
nobody notices
not even my flock.

Some call me the shepherd
that guides them somewhere
where the grass is greener on the other side
With my stick and compassion I shall guide.

Others call me the Philospher
the most trivial questions of the world
are discussed and fleshed out
the questions that have some meaning without a doubt.

I'm Galileo Galillei,
with my compass and scope
I shall see far and wide
the troubles that they may have to cope
with whilst I draw a path for a safe ride.

But I plainly think of myself as the watcher,
I look down and observe, analyze and confide
in myself as peoples inner turmoil will rise.
My flock all have their secrets which they wish to hide,
silent arguments, closed doors, shed tears.
I watch them and yet I watch I can do nothing
Nothing is not helping.

But yet I watch
as regrets, resent and repressed emotions
implode and explode like a firecracker
every shout and yell is in motion
and I feel helpless, weighed down, guttered.
Knowing that though it is not uttered.
No one is truly happy
and everyone has their problems
that once fixed, life shall be restored
back to the green fields
where happiness can then blossom.

It all started with do you remember...

Moonshine

Two Faced.
The light shines from one side and that is what you see, the brightness...sometimes coincidentally too bright but you look at it anyway because you are stubborn and naive and want to just believe that what you see is actually what it is. But the brightness is too bright, a luminescent mask, that pretends to outshine all the negative things.
You are too focused on the pretty shine, the porcelain skin and its radiance to notice the dark side, the side that hides away barely comprehensible from a distance. It's dark, invisible lining looms though you can not detect its being, but if you look close enough you can see where the other side ends, where the night has blended in with darkness of that side of the moon, if you squint you can peek under the brightness of the moon to reveal what is really beneath its pearl white surface.And you just need enough patience until the new moon comes to figure out who the moon really is without its shiny armor.
It's Two Faced.

It all started with do you remember...

Yeah thats right!