…Selfie…

It becomes urgent for the soul to escape.

You leave it to prosper in the clammy palms of destiny. The destiny that is spoon fed to you as a child.

It becomes urgent for the soul to escape.

You roll it up in silk leaves and sniff, in hope for happiness.

It becomes urgent for the soul to escape

from your blindness.

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(Thierry Le Gous, Soul Photography)

The soul worships your existence. It hopes and dreams that you will touch it. It cannot be seen. It lives inside of you, waiting to be understood. You spend hours worshiping the beauty of the physical. You spend hours painting your face, in hope you will uphold some source of beauty.

And the beauty of the mind is forgotten.

There is no mind when the only thing you read is the advert on the billboard or your pay check. How can you expect successes in life when you do nothing to feed your soul?

And the only thing on your mind is…

‘Selfie!’

Signed Arouge

Anomaly

 

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You are dying, I am living.

I am taking, you are giving

the bright light.

Sunny days that raced ahead,

Are now darkening and dead.

And that alleyway where we always met,

Now is exiled and a threat.

You are dying, I am living.

You are drowning, I am slipping

Into the same sea.

Signed Arouge

Dark Skies

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Sometimes the simplest words speak louder,

And the flustered actions become clustered

And boxed into things we don’t understand.

The sky still bellows your name as I walk,

And I try to peel back its layers in hope

I

See

You,

But I can’t.

There are times I try to lick the sky to

Seal the envelope, to drop you in the post,

To send you miles away to only,

Then, want you to

Come

Back

To

Me.

But I can’t.

I try to lift my fingers to rummage

Through the ‘paradise’ that sleeps above me,

to wake some sort of potion, for the inner demon

but it only

weakens

the

chains.

So I can’t.

Signed Arouge

 

True Freedom

Sometimes I look up and I wonder whether if the sky is in its true appearance. As humans, we aspire to touch the sky, but, we fail because we admire and pity ourselves.

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True Freedom, where do you hide?

Signed Arouge

Who Says Words With My Mouth? 

Where do I come from? Where does home begin and end?





I don’t belong. My soul calls for another home.

My soul longs.

I don’t belong here.

Signed Arouge

Lone Soul

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My lonely soul, how lonely you shall grow!

Others shall try to seek to know, but, will only walk away.

Loneliness is contagious; it mutates the cells of the human body and causes sickness.

Signed Arouge

Hate

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Your words fail to evoke any emotion.

Your dark camouflaged skin wriggles

With the snakes,

              Hissing and slithering over my brain,

           But, you mean nothing.

Signed Arouge