Author: hotsurf

Like to travel, read, play cello etc.

Keeping up.

All I ever wanted to do
is to keep up with this thing.
I never know where it will turn.
One moment, it's despair,
the next, sunbeams.
Never satisfied with good living.
So, we are stuck together.
When it's happy, I feel bad.
When it's sad, I gain insight.

All I ever wanted to do
is to keep up with this you.
So arrogant & full of pride,
yet manage to keep the light.
When they say "bow", you say "fight".
Swimming in the moment,
except when you cry.
Maybe none of it's good,
nor any of this bad.

All I ever can do is keeping up
with this life.

Cloudy noon.

I feel privileged to have a window
to the open sky
where the clouds part
there's the space above,
and between the silver linings,
a light that sometimes gentle
sometimes scorches.
Everything changes down below,
and yet there's lost signal.
What can contribute
to the shadows & echos?
Are we not a part of the whole?
The same air past our nostrils?
Through the earth we come & go?
What is life when it's gentle & beautiful?

That afternoon nap.

Had one of those afternoon sleep
that dreams are made out of.
Can't stop the brain from floating
into the soft wind & warm sunbeams
where I grinded into something hard
while the body is held immobile.
Then the whole body disappeared
into something that's opposite of pain.
The eyes won't open. The breath not felt.
Still I hear the world's turning
with joyance creatures all about.
When it's time to come back
I forgot how to say hi.
Feel like it's the first time
that I have used my eyes.
The sun's burning bright,
the clouds' shades' just right.
I have to ask myself again, & again,
"Where have I been? Where am I?"

In-accessible.

There was a land made out of rivers & streams,
faires & star dust, sunshine through the leaves.
They froze in place as beautiful as can be,
an oasis that has become inaccessible.
The horrors of cliffs & deserts,
time stretches the distant, distorts the road.
Can't let go of finding things more beautiful,
maybe the next bleak dawn,
maybe the next broken soul.
Will it still be accessible?
Muster the strength as I grow old.
What I had was complete, long time ago.
Maybe the next wreck holds the map
and the strength to stay.
It's been inaccessible.
Not something that can be brought & sold.
Mountains of debts to cover up the guilt.
It's really inaccessible.
No-man's land in the dark, no one knows how far.
Scared of returning, paradise then death.
So inaccessible, pride & dust.

One of us.

I see a squirrel digging into an artificial lawn,
across the road a man thinks I owe him some love.
I'm still looking for a reason to be here,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

I stop my sport watch & its strap breaks.
It gives me high-five cause my heart's working great,
but I know this morning I had too much cake,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

I think on how to get noticed on clubhouse,
it gets harder to hide the resentment of the turnouts.
Layers & layers I open up, still not enough,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

Feeling tired but the videos recorded my smiles,
leaves it to others to decide my worth.
It lets up the pressure of this beautiful dark cloud,
so I guess I'm really one of us.

Road so far.

Mother taught me life's a tight rope,
so I walked it like a pro
to be a slave & keep the dough,
had some laughs, all for show.

Never really learned what love is,
read the books & saw the movies too,
alas it's not a muscle I ever use,
if I did, it must've snapped in two.

Born & raised by fear & resentment,
now it's time to bake the pie.
Told myself to stand down & pull back,
no wonder there's no such person as I.

It's different what's outside & inside,
maybe some day it will be aligned.
Life is not something to keep in hand,
spend it wisely & open it wide.

Bitch self.

My self is a slippery bitch
wants to hide in the mud.
I try to lure it out.
It tells me to go to hell.
So I went and stayed
till it ran out of masks.
I sigh & ask, "What now?"
Self says, "Don't look at me for help."
So I wrangle the bitch out,
make it sit while I draw.
It doesn't like it one bit,
but it's high time to live.
I don't know where we split,
maybe since the first period.
The self no longer fit,
so it went escapist.
Gee, I wonder what we could've been.
Probably happily in oblivion.
But then I'd be bored.
So I guest it worked out best.

Afterdeath.

Woke up this morning with no pain.
A stranger stares back in reflection.
Something in my head says,
"You can have it."

I think I know what that means.
Feeling grounded for once,
Looking at my body, "hmm, not bad."
Maybe, there's life after death.
Maybe I will take my time,
or just switch black with white.
A seed with the magic trick,
with time, and you can have it.