BEER to EMOTIONS inside:
Numb it.
Make it fly.
Look into the mirror —
see the skull
within thy flesh
Find out where lives the why —
somewhere between the bones
and the part of life
that touches reality,
that dances with the day
Why do we hate
all our little struggles?
be numb to annoyances —
be alive to the life,
to the blood, the fiber
of the day
Suffering blends with joy
to such a degree that
they are one and the same
as the silver lining
of a cloud is
one with our souls
The sky rains down on the earth
and we soak ourselves up
in an ancient cycle
of lost and found
It’s all in the air —
can’t you feel it?
smell it? taste it?
It is there —
everything.
You can’t run and hide
because it will always be there —
in the very air we breathe
in the layers of earth —
the clay, the
lava and fire
and smoke of existence
The beer, the thought,
the audible, palpable heartbeats
uncover the layers
of dirt, the dust of time,
the everything that
we’ve kicked up over our wounds
throughout the years
Some things are like a shovel
and help us
dig it out;
some things
help us sweep it away
to return to the winds
without guarantee
that it won’t
return again some future day
even tomorrow
or in our dreams
And should we really be so selfish
or stubborn or unrealistic
that we wouldn’t expect it
to resurface yet again — someday
can’t we just feel happy
and blessed
and free
that it’s taken its leave
for today?
Don’t be jealous
of the birds
with their wings
and the bodily structure
to fly away —
an aerial view doesn’t
necessarily mean
that they have
the capacity
to leave it all behind
The wings carry much
but the body carries more
and within our bodies
like an intricate puzzle
the mind fills up
with ever-heavy thoughts
and overflowing rivers —
thoughts & emotions
that spill quickly
and restlessly
into the heart:
and try to fly —
just try it —
I dare you —
with all that cargo
Perhaps it’s not
the wings
after all
that allow us to fly
but the breath —
the taking it in
the letting it go
the filling up
with essentials
of life
so there isn’t room
for anything else
but the air, the breath —
and isn’t that everything?
We’re all running —
every single one of us
is running —
running from
running towards
even those of us who
think we’re content
sitting perfectly still
are being carried along
because no one
or nothing
really sits still
the tide would die
had it nowhere to roll
—Terri Guillemets
100% unedited, written after my empty stomach made the acquaintance of two bottles Peroni Nastro Azzurro — a writing experiment to determine if my tipsy self made any more or less sense than its sober side — if you’re wondering, the results are inconclusive — I think we’re both a little crazy