And How She Grew

When first she awoke,
She blinked, she cried,
Conscious only of the air
Around her, and her relative
By Blood,
The one who nurtured
Her, and housed her
For eighteen full
And new moons.
Slowly she grew.
First, a tiny little
Dumpling with hamster cheeks.
Big, big
Dark chocolate eyes.
The apple of everyone's eyes.
The only thing
Worth looking at
As something new,
Something different.
She was oblivious
To these opinions,
These perceptions,
These thoughts
About her.
And that left her happy.

And she grew.
Older, wiser,
But odder.
Confused-er.
Several strong,
Individualistic,
Opinionated,
Know-it-all
People were around.
Being their
Strong,
Individualistic,
Opinionated,
Know-it-all
Selves.
Tossed and turned
In her mind,
Considering
Every one of them.
Almost forgetting herself.
And then forgetting herself.
She then congealed.
Went into herself.
Was met with unfavouring eyes
Everywhere.
Rarely a considerate soul anywhere.
She cried, she wept,
She put herself down.
That led nowhere.

And then, oh then,
She realised.
She had to get out.
She was pulling
Her down.
And then, it changed.
A few favouring eyes
Met hers.
A few considerate souls
Somewheres.
She was better.
The older ways haunt her still,
But it is now the pain of a needle prick
Versus a leap from a hill.

Bath-water, Brain Lighting and Volcano Mouths

The thing about writing.

When you want to do it, the flow of words stop. It just disappears. All you can see, read, think and hear around you are mundane words like, 'get, throw, wash, bath, water, toothpaste, soap,' and the like.

Yes, I've just about woken up.

No, I don't want to do anything else.

Blah. It's always the same. For instance, when I'm having a bath and consciously concentrating on cleaning myself, along comes an idea oh so quietly and then rams into my head in this very unassuming way. Ping! Something in my brain lights up and a rush of swirly emotions accompanies this lighting of the brain. And then, bath-water, tiles et al disappear to leave me falling through space and heading directly toward the mouth of a volcano.

I'm so engrossed in this that I want to rush out naked like Archimedes and just plain yell at the top of my voice. The similarity of the situation is striking.

And then, poof. The idea's gone away. I take it very bravely, thinking it'll come back again. I try to move on, feeling cut to the very core of my being. I come out of the bath, put some clothes on and then slowly tramp outside the bathroom. I pile my plate with breakfast (at one in the afternoon, thanks to my atrocious eating habits) and trudge to the living room, disheartened with myself and the world. The picture of a volcano catches my eye from across a newspaper sprawling across the sofa.

I'm falling into its mouth again, only this time, with glee. =)

Chemically Me

I am uranium.
Constantly changing -
Forever evolving.
Forwards or backwards,
I cannot say.
Although common viewpoint
Exists,
I cannot use it as a yardstick.
If I did...
No. It is impossible.
My differences are incomparable.
Nothing is comparable.
Everything differs.
Good or bad,
I cannot say.
What is good?
What is bad?
"Common viewpoint..."
Tchah.
Wlah.
Ugh.

I am uranium.
Restless and fizzing,
Unable to keep still.
Burning with enthusiasm,
Passion, and purity.
I am the steel
Being purged of impurities.
I am the copper
Undergoing electrolysis.
I am the diamond,
Admired and wondered at
By a speechless one.
Coveted, and
Finally treasured.
Meanwhile,
I am the graphite,
Writing,
Writing,
Writing.