therumpled

[therumpled]

[therumpled]

KEEP THE CHANGE

The executive curses the streets against the grain, infecting affections while uniformed in synthetics of authority as nurses' eyes drip off and run through the overwhelmed streams of overcrowded hospitals.

We are buried by machines, then give us nameless wooden crosses and there we are left having only earth and sky as witnesses of who we were... it's the change from an age when the weight of bodies isn't worth as the weight of nickel and warlike possessions.

In the morning we have our coffees meanwhile the news tell us an updated count of casualties, in the afternoon we try to distract the absences, but at dusk we go through a sleepless state.

[therumpled]

https://www.instagram.com/madame_butterfly.collage/

[therumpled]

5AM'S

Living despite

Leaving behind

Carrying over

Avoiding it

And failing

Wallowed in

And ghosted by

A bitten past

[therumpled]

dead night empty road what is this

[therumpled]

ROAD

The sound of the wheels in friction to cold asphalt

The sound of the winds through the windows

The silence of the mouths

The noises of the car

Maybe a book

Maybe I pick some songs

Not to play, but to remember

Sometimes to remember makes it feel more than the senses

Hasty voices while passing gas stations

Workers poring over a lost staring

Wide gestures detailing words

I leave it all behind

I'm back to the sound of the wheels in friction to hot asphalt

To the hollow ambient and to the air conditioner

The mouths at last speak

The car dies at the curb

[therumpled]

Dawid Planeta (Poland, 1990) - Jungle animals from the series “Mini People in the Jungle” [digital painting], 2018.

[therumpled]

BIRD

All the flaws got my face stamped to be someone to hold.

Lying down on sheer sheets, up to rumpled comfort, churning out wetter ways to go on.

Cracking no good among and inner a seat at the curtains.

Tastes bold to light joy, dream and an watered, clean-cut, dissed black bird self.

Truth comes gathering all my flaws... to teach me how to be someone to hold.

[therumpled]

“You see things; you say, ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were; and I say 'Why not?” — George Bernard Shaw

art by ©Dawid Planeta

[therumpled]

FISH

Don't be...

Sorry is for the ones who no longer stand for their faults and still can remember how to swim against the guilt inside the guts, to flow through the streams of the bitter winds that regrets blow, to send away deepest sorrows to those controversial tides of the sentimental hurricane housed in their bodies.

So don't be...

Sorry is a state of self consciousness... and you are lost.

[therumpled]

Dawid Planeta. Polish artist.

[therumpled]

GREAT ANIMALS

Stuck in a foggy dream.

Skyscraper sized animals look at you with glowed eyes demanding the long late sleep into the deep sea dreaming mattress, a comfortable place despite its volatility from where you can get food out of mother's stove, that thing ruled by a satellite made of petrified love dust.

Stuck still in a foggy dream.

You are searching for firmness in the stillwater, digging joy to find happiness, stirring the structures of your thoughts to open the slots of the universe. Through this asleep odyssey you just got yourself struck by the feeling of self pity that belongs to hell, and you know this has been catching you for far too long. Oh that's the cue for the awakening but the weight of your body keeps you down the mind... way too down to say goodnight.

[therumpled]

[therumpled]

WEARING OFF

My face at the wall

My eyes at the sun

My sight at a landscape of untouched peace

It feels good in my daydreams

Like cold breeze throughout a field of palms

Through my hair

I am woken

Shaking

...in mind

...down the paper

Tired by my intents

And believings

Trying to look fine

I AM woken

Finding my gestures into b-side terms

Hiding and showing joys

I need a pause of being

I need to move

I have to change my saints

...while I'm woken...

I need new rituals

A minimalist faith

Something closer from comfortable

Some stage far from judgments

I keep a saying

I'm still a soul blind

I am a blank page

Praying to old words

Talking to a past version of self

Feeling sinner

Taking uncountable baths

To wash away

...lovers

...memory frames

...sense of duality

...my missing note about an warm time

I tried aspirations

I tried men

I tried nothing

With my body at the bed

And muses from high seas

I'm out of my own hands

Maybe out of life

Or only reflecting

I don't know

I AM WOKEN

I'm waiting

On blue

Thank you all that made me

But it's time to...

Wear off

[therumpled]

Do you laugh while screaming, is it cold outside?

[therumpled]

MAW

Search a fear too deep to unleash wounds in the shallows of your skin

So they can be aware of themselves to slip a way to your withered lungs

To your best fingers

To beware your mourning sun

You are not that bold, I tell myself

I feel missing something but there's no tongue to spell it

I call it

On my way to the poetry

In the ways of the paper or even by the typing screen

...I see...

Crosses among clouds

Above the river of salt

Bringing a bridge between home and hotel under setting suns

Opening nights by painting skies on pastel

...amidst a ceaseless noise...

I feel alive because I taste it all

But I lack names for its colors

So I can't see through its beauty

And all I can have is a bitten body

[therumpled]

Pt. 2, Lucy Rose