She is Poetry
Photo credits: Cristina Purdea
In my generation's time of secondary education, boys and girls where separated in different schools. I believe that this fueled more the distorted view that we already had of sexuality and the opposite sex. More over in my case, I went to a Catholic primary school run by nuns. Their conservative beliefs, only made it less clear of what is that we hold inside, and our desires. At times it was very confusing, I couldn't find relation between my desires that drove my heart, and who they said I should be. The only comfort I found, was when I retreated into my world. In there I could be who ever I wanted to, or not. I started seeing Life as this female which had the face of the sky, the smell of wet soil, eyes of rain drops, and daffodils for hands.
Yet, such conservative upbringing affected the relationships I had with women later on in life. In first encounters, I would get over excited; shivering, with a paralyzed mouth, and oblivious to how my heart kept beating. Today, I smile about it. Sexuality and desire have driven mankind to wondrous expressions of art. So why we keep on hanging on to such a taboo, as if it is something to be ashamed of, to show nudity, or for craving intimate interaction, is beyond me.
Someone said; "Pain is what makes us human." I say; "it is us that came up with pain, out of the judgment we have towards ourselves. The desire for Love, the longing for intimacy, and the wish of sharing relation, is what makes us human."
"Stop desiring, not to desire" - Buddha
The longing for love, and intimate shared moments of truths...where everything falls behind. The fear to be seen, the lack we feel, are exposed, and if willing, they will burn in the fire of passion.
In the following, what you will read are my dreams, if you want to call them as such. Lived with wide open eyes, between dusk and daylight. Poems extracted from my writings, in the week 36 of the year 2017. I have compiled them in here, with the aim to challenge the taboos, society in general has about sexuality, and show the true beauty there is in expressing desire.
Let yourself drift, into oneself.
"You are in my bed, facing the other way.
Your shoulder is showing from beneath the sheets,
And your breath makes a moaning sound with the pillow.
With an awakened and hard body,
I come to you...
Rubbing my chest with your back,
As pelvis' touch, with lower backs,
In some form of already pleasure.
You sigh, my lungs,
With a hoarse voice,
Not to stop...
And come in."
I made peace with the voices in my head. I know they are there, and will never go away. They offer companionship and guidance, once I have stopped following blindly. I started listening, and looking deeper and deeper into the mirrors and reflections of my own soul.
So I look up, to the universe and stars in tapestry, that I hung upon my bed. A room dimly lit, just for me to make love to my own shadows, for I know She is there, laying in wait, hiding beneath the darkened sheets of skin in fade.
Now I leave you to your night, for I can't keep her in wait...
It's just that there are so many things that we dismiss, and it's not that it is necessary to talk and share about them. In fact, I saw that it was more beneficial not to talk sporadically about them. I just had to accept them as part of my space, which takes a certain level of self-awareness. It took me the whole 20 days to find my peace again amidst the storm of lust and its emotions. In such times, poetry takes a different shape as well, it because this mistress in black royal hair, to which I succumb in thoughts and heart. She takes me to roam, like black wolves that stare out from the shadows; where Pen becomes Claw, and Paper shapes into Skin.
Thunder praised fear, clouds rang of lust, and stars smelled of sex, while my fingers felt like claws desiring flesh.
An unruly world, is the one that lives in me...for what is an Artist, if not someone that challenges the known boundaries of reality?
"Don't wake the sea", they said.
At the first sight, of her blossoming in blue, I could not help but crave...
of touch and its slide...
of mouth and its hinging tongue.
She stood there, among the waves of water and clouds, like an angel in its birth of flight.
How can I, not awake this Sea of arousing sighs?
No one taught me your language, how to dance to your voice, or what to do when you become silent and beautifully ravishing. I had to discover all that on my own, by daring to come and breathe in your skin, to stand here amidst the breeze of your unmoving lips.
"Come in me my love...let your eyes pave the way with a carpet of tears.
You knew me out of the longing of your heart.
Now you will drink, and live in me, upon Life's unwavering sheets"
- She said.
Summer in September has turned into a welcoming breeze over night. With the window open, I am lullabied and awakened, by the moving sound of the reeds outside.
For a week, I finally had my home all for myself. I love it here. It is silent, like the black surface of coffee in a cup. There is only the smoke of the incense, that makes its way in between the rays of light, and the shadows. Yet this silence speaks to me; of what is to be free from the bondage of this world and its firm inherited beliefs. The way it gets under my skin, and the warmth by which it kindles my heart, is a space where no lover has ever taken me to. And although I wish I had you here, covering with your sleep the other half of the bed, this faithful and silent companion has taken your place. Because, for today there is only the twiddling of reeds, and the rocking movement of the thought; "shall I want you or not?"
All it is, is silent.
In a world of imprisoned rooms, her shade was the in-between of water and light. Upon the surface of hidden skies, her reflection shone, of eyes and fall, all tears outgrown. For her, my body rose with skin in shivers, as towards her I walked..while She stood there, half asleep, at the edge of my humanity, in full grace and embalming desire. Breasts hung high, like clouds full of rain waiting to be kissed by the dawning sun. Legs ran through my chest with their feathery fingers, calling up a voice that couldn't find its way to my throat. There I was, drowning in the movement of her breathing lips...of curtains and fade, Silence in shake...a goddess bringing the death of all that is shallow and gray.
Photo credits: Cristina Purdea
I want to thank those which in one way or the other,
inspired these posts. You might know who you are, or not.
Especially I want to thank Cristina,
with whom a mutual feeling developed,
although half world apart.
How, when and where, is even a mystery to me;
thank you <3
* where the word “you” is mentioned, I am at times referring to myself. While in other instances, “you” is in reference to a specific person within a dialogue.
* where the word “She” or “Her” are mentioned, most times there is no particular woman, but I am relating to an ideal, or to the energy of Life itself. Other times there is a particular woman in play.
How you will perceive it, is totally up to you.
Feel free to share.
For more of my writings you can check out my instagram profile; mbrincat - or my book that is available to purchase from here: