~ in the kitchen of your sentimentsA Poem by . serah .somewhat poetic prose; i write merely to exercise my right to write; i'm a hardcore atheist but i like the concept of analytical meditation which simply means meditating about a serious problem...monsieur scalpel, you won't see me slip away from the steady grip of your surgical gloves (oh, i do remember how much you love the australian ones without powder you said they feel like second skin) i litter the air with words attempting to be verse just so you can be protected from my own abyss of silence which is more a river of patience than barren land where flowers don't grow or flutterbys don't visit but you don't know that you don't know the river which flows in me you can't tell from my cursive writing that i glide from one letter to another and never need to lift my fountain pen in the middle of a word while you disconnect after every letter in a word detaching the nib from contact with paper to slice the onion of my sentiments so finely that they barely exist except to be fried before being turned into crisps which make your emotional intake delicious when you sometimes venture into the kitchen of your sentiments i live there in a corner of the counter behind the microwave and i have conversations with all the spiders who spin webs around me it's called analytical meditation which is very different from "emptying" meditation and so when i heard the Dalai Lama speak about it in and interview given to Dr. Sanjay Gupta on CNN i smiled my chipped-tooth smile because something struck me recently like lightening and i realized that if we start voting raving lunatics into power in democracies then the only process that can save us from committing blunders is the psychiatric evaluation of all candidates who want to contest elections i know that i cannot make this something which is required by law but there's a certain amusement to be derived from the fact that i thought about a potential solution before reading about it you see, i know that edison invented the light bulb but i am pretty sure there were some unsung edisons out there who did not have the ability to register their invention but were inventors nonetheless they were happy people and i cannot rattle off their names on demand (i don't know them) or find pictures of their sketches on google but they existed and maybe they don't matter to anybody but they do matter to me because i think about them and when i do i think about you and wonder if you will be able to do an edison with your innovative thoughts on curing cancer and my guess is that you'll succeed that's why i am silently very happy these days but secretive because i don't want you to think about my thoughts in a corner behind the microwave in the kitchen of your sentiments which you visit so rarely these days that it seems like you don't visit it all it's alright you should just slog and slog and slog and keep me enthralled it seems to me that you have intuitively and instinctively figured out a different secret of mine and i thought i should confirm it today yes, i cannot handle too much attention i'm happiest when i'm quietly observing an inventor at work
© 2017 . serah .Author's Note |
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Added on February 19, 2017 Last Updated on February 19, 2017 Author. serah .About~ poetry is rarely found solely in words... Profile image: http://www.stephaniefehrenbach.ca/prints/grey-leaf 9th December, 2016. 03:17 am I write merely to exercise my right to w.. more..Writing
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