Keep Making Me Guffaw

“It has happened before, I have done it again. All the bars come crashing down, the sky ascends up the straits thru which ropes of vine spiral and screw. And I watched, I looked, and eyed and smiled all over the faces. I’m resting in my mistakes, running wayward in the waterways and blades and shards await and behold the other side.
Circling fears, irresolute disappointments, swinging trust refuse to leave my thoughts. All the times I close my gates, I wake up to the relief of nothingness. Every time I close my exits, I find a place of comparison, of contemplation, of communicative stops, of collaborative stunts, of collective death. No one narrates my dreams and reads them to me aloud to set me adrift an avowed ocean to sit and set me awake, in consequence I can’t adapt, I’m chasing a time to be afloat. I’m driving and drowning. I lay closer to the ocean, lie nearer the truth, get old and free, wild and idle to waste fallen years.
Everything begins to move. There’s a velvet darkness through the looking glass in green eyes lost in daylight, while everything rushes to the signs of Amsterdam wherein I forget the world” 

sing, sing, sing, sing, sing, sing. 
sing, sing, sing, sing, sing, sing. 
sing, sing, sing, sing, sing, sing.

It’s like I told the body, listen to the mind. Oh, the steps that I take to open all my doors.

Published by

Watt

It's all a matter of rust and shine, to serve a distinction between to have and to have not.

25 thoughts on “Keep Making Me Guffaw”

  1. WordPress woud not post my comment, Poet. You must have withrawn the post to change the title…………a very different verb, Poet. I am not questioning it even if only men guffaw and I take cover almost every time men do the things only they do…..

    But let me ask my second question: you write your text. Do you keep any note – written or even drawings – of how you arrive at any of your texts. Young people will ask when you are an old man. People will ask questions about certain patterns in your writing. They will ask about the connections to your ‘real’ life. They will ask advice how to start and go on and end.

    If you brush off this question, I won’t mind because what do I know who am here now drawing the pleasure out of your words, and won’t be there when you are old.

    Glad also that Amsterdam, at least, is not too tired a Europe to harbour you until your next text is published!

    It is dawn here and this opening of doors was a wonderful read for this time of day at this time of year here.

    Sarah

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    1. I usually pick words and bring them into a sensible feeling. And it’s almost as if I’m in a catatonic state when writing. I create a sentence and have no idea how or what have I typed. Then If I choose to cling to that state you get vague texts like Thought Row and Jump, but if I multiply it with a little mind you get Peyote or Agony Fiend. Hope this renders a little coherence. Did it?

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      1. Yes, it rendered coherence.

        It is the addition of more and more conscious decision-making to an eruption or an appearance of words which themselves came from the unconscious.

        I won’t ask any more questions about this……….now anyway! Sarah

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  2. È incredibile come tu riesca a farmi desiderare di stravolgere le mie realtà per cercare quello che ancora non so di me.. Ciao buona giornata

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    1. I think you’re talking about this. But if you’re not you can go check like Gabriel Garcia Marquez or even your own work. The pieces combined with the comments literally were my whole Tuesday, Not joking.

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  4. I liked this, I got a sense of the enormity of feeling trapped, where escape is not necessarily a straightforward solution… I enjoy the mystique and the wandering nature of your poems, beautiful metaphors part of the journey.

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  7. There is a sense of mystique within your prose writing. I feel that all senses should not feel trapped but instead – feel something more than just this life we as humans tend to believe.

    Beautifully well written and you have a lot of soul and heart that you put the work into this incredible writing.

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  9. I once knew a girl with pale green eyes I watched her as she lay her head on the car seat eyes watching the passing by scenes. They turned a paler green if that was even possible. This feels like day to me. Makes me smile 😊

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      1. Oh I do too. When I first started drawing I learned how to draw eyes. I’m always moved when the facial expression doesn’t change but the eyes do. Like stories from an old soul or something like that. Hard to put it into words, I just feel it. (◡‿◡)

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