(an attempt)

desperate to control the breaths 

my body autonomously produces

as if it would allow me to reign

the sky’s sculpture-like clouds.

as they hover, 

mere moments pass before my perception 

meets your face

in the sweet ponds of blue.

I do not dare to ponder towards 

where I would drift

if my body would let me.

I fear that it’s fog

and not really

you.

Hey There; I'm Really Trying

Only 2 years since I visited this place. But never mind that.
I'm really trying to write lately. Too many feelings, experiences, people, politics to keep inside.The problem is - not enough words. Not sure it was always a problem.


Anyway...


Orphaned attempt #1
I hide precious words under stones
I cannot lift or carry,
so it would be possible to pretend
that my thoughts are
elsewhere.

Orphaned attempt #2
I have inhaled your breath once;

now I’m lost inside it,

roaming endlessly

with no heartbeat to follow.

A song to go along with it all

Right now? Nothing new in the poetry section.

But this one is finally relevant.
I edited it a bit, in an attempt to pretend I'm writing something. By saying "edited", I mean capitalisation.
Ha!
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Other then that, went through some other older stuff in my DA account. Awkward. Even a few I don't remember writing. Always an interesting experience though.

(Bad days.)
Found a piece of poetry among artistic junk in my room.
Let's try and see what comes out of it:

We step into the rodeo

like soldiers, or an army.

But it's only papers that

we trade, not lands.

I've lost an emotion in the pages

of your bible.

Hard-cover,

covering a heart.

We are all monsters in a book,

hooked on the look

of a reader's misconception.

But the climax always lingers,

like a shadowy catharsis.

You can peel me.

Can you feel me?

Going undercover

to crack your hard-cover.

Our misconception

made me a lover.

© Barith Ball

Mother Nature Has a Fever

So I've finished my Fever Ray poem. Obviously inspired by that magnificent creature.

Not too pleased. Still have some work on it. 

Yes, many references to her lyrics there.

It's actually more about my desire for her to become my Muse, something I actually failed in, considering the fact that it's my first Fever Ray-inspired writing. 

But still, I know she lingers there somewhere, and I am pretty sure she isn't human.

That bullshit being said, here is the poem.

Mother Nature Has a Fever:

I should have eaten the berries

you sucked from the bushes.

Should have opened the box of my

human consciousness.

Your wilderness

migrated to the northernmost point,

where you sit and you knit.

(I’ve been here before)

And I walk close beside you,

but never close enough.

I think I know you from a heaven.

(You can’t possibly be human)

I should have taken what you offered,

instead my words crawl into dead endings.

But when a long night replaces

a longer day,

I'll keep the heart empty for you.

I’m down on my feet,

crying for you -

“There is no tomorrow”.

So let us stop here.

 _____

© Barith Ball

A double blast from the past

Two old, yet relevant, poems. Very old.

1) Relevant for my heart.

Elysian Fields:

We sail through Elysian Fields,
a scent of sacrificial romance in the air.
Our words have slipped into castaway nights.
These remaining silhouettes are only echoes.

We gathered skeletons in coffin closets;
(they kept murmuring even in death)
and we've become ghosts.
We're following ghosts, in Elysian Fields.

And I've noticed you from afar,
yet there are oceans between us,
breaking and reforming
like glaciers beneath neon sky.

And you've noticed me from afar,
yet there are endless tides between us,
rising and crashing
like pyroclastic flow upon volcanoes.

Love is poison and it dances in your blood;
I'm losing you in an ocean of ghosts,
in an ocean of lovers.
I've lost you to love, my love.

I cannot swim without you...
____

July, 2008.
Barith Ball


2) Relevant for the my country.

Pink Ribbon Armageddon:

A vivid explosion upon grey midnight sky
Is spiting colours like a brush thrown astray.
A drugged scientist thinks he's an artist,
Puts colours in bombs, in nuclear spray.

"What a beautiful rainbow!", shouting the girl,
"Waves upon waves of colourful ribbons.
Look, mommy, we can almost touch them.
Let's go swimming in a rainbow ocean."

But the angels above, smirking with madness,
Unveiling The Knell that'll fill us with darkness.
They're blowing kisses at every direction,
With their cherry lips and sarcastic elation.

"Oh mommy, who would have guessed,
That today, of all days, will bring us distress.
A death so colourful, but oh! What a mess!
Let's all just sing and drone -
It's pink ribbon Armageddon!"

"Pink ribbon Armageddon!"

And indeed they fanatically murmur
A sudden lament for the animated murder.

And all of the birds that sail in the sky,
The eagles, the pigeons, the gulls,
They turned into ravens - a web of stains
Around stars that look just like skulls.

And the monolith skyscrapers
That once ruled the heavens,
Are now smothered by lightnings.
The embrace of the cravens.

Still the girl strolling the streets,
She smiles and she laughs
At whoever she meets.

"Pink ribbon Armageddon!"

Coughing a blizzard,
A royal cyclone,
The little girl reveals the unknown.
She's merely a child, yet she stands upon
Her own pink Armageddon.
____

April, 2008.
Barith Ball

A home on papers.

I am writing. I have put thoughts to pen, pen to paper. The ink is red, the blood is hidden.

Words refresh the pages. I have lines and dots and spaces.

"There's no place like home".
We'll have to make it a home, first.
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