Our Open Mic - sajji's Blog

Aug 13

Reincarnation

Published in Random thoughts, confessional by sajji | Comment (0)

I would very much like to be

Bukowski

Old and

All too aware

Hunched, miserable,

Alive.

I would very much like to be

That 5 year old I saw in the Art Institute

Writhing in his mother's lap with boredom,

Not caring that his shirt was pulled up to his armpits because the bench he lay on was

Cool

Aug 13

Still, Lukewarm

Published in Life, Learning and Growing, a challenge by sajji | Comment (0)

I think I would like to glow red hot

With madness

Something to talk about, you know?

Instead of forging conversation

Upon general concerns

Aug 13

Paternal Instinct

Published in Untagged by sajji | Comment (0)

I swear about my father

While lounging, sporting his pants.

Pausing for a moment, I realize that in this

Worn, tattered,

Aged

Pair of pants,

I am him

A disgruntled old man,

Frustrated

A born again defeatist.

Aug 01

Featureless Love

Published in love, Beauty by sajji | Comment (1)

I’m keeping a close eye on my lips these days,

On those careless, cheating bastards.

I’m sick of their chapped ways,

The way they speak without my permission.

Those liars! How they bask and revel in importance when they taunt,

Beckoning, wrapped in oozing layers of glittery, shiny wetness

Its so unfair

That they would steal your attention away from me

Jul 28

Scented Sleep

Published in Untagged by sajji | Comment (0)

The scented allure of your covers has a greater appeal than my own

Yours, unlike mine, envelope and rock me sweetly

Perhaps it is the warmth that courses through your arms, but I secretly believe that it is the detergent your mother uses to wash your sheets

Which smell of us

I would stop at little to fall into dreams like I do in your bed

Instead of tossing, waiting anxiously for the tides of blissful unconsciousness to wash over me, I sink

Heavily floating downwards into the lush and rich pastel tones of sleep

Jul 19

Homage to Anne Boleyn

Published in death by sajji | Comment (2)

Like a last resort, I call to God

Because all my life I have commanded those around me like he commands nature, easily and with no resistance.

My breath of life was the very wind itself, it could calm and toy playfully or resolve itself into a destructive force.

I have always known my power

I have never bowed sincerely, not even on the altar

And I have never so forcefully been knocked to my knees, than by the love for a ghost.

But now

I call to God

And even he does not help me rise

Jul 19

Whale Song (sensing ascension)

Published in Spirituality, beginning, Beauty by sajji | Comment (0)

I awoke to the sound of whale song in the street

It wafted through my window and ensnared my senses with its musical banter.

I followed it out my door, unaware of the bustle and meaningless banter of the city crowds,

Spindly legged women who did not appreciate or even sense the melodious speech of whales

It bubbled, gurgling thickly out of dancing fountains

It seeped, ringing, out of puddles in the street.

Jul 08

Shifting Notes in a Stagnant Verse

Published in suburbs by sajji | Comment (0)

This vortex of transgression is no good for me

Instead of shifting I'll just sit and

stare

...

Into the spiraling fractals of eternity.

Like a soccer mom's agenda, I'll highlight the nights filled with your presence, and then plan for and get excited about nothing.

In this petri dish of a town it is expected that we run in the circles of our individual hampster balls, never touching and trapped by our own boundaries of inhibitions,

Jul 07

Our Rain (forest)

Published in stream of consciousness by sajji | Comment (6)

Fractal

Fractured dissonance

Sporadic shards of fragmented peace

I've lived out my time of incomodo, and now its time for

lush

pigmented,

vivid horizons.

You fulfill my paradise, standing, waiting under trees that hang low, blissfully maternal and bearing juicy, colorful, fleshy pods of guava and ripened papaya

And it is

raining,

Jul 06

A Love Letter to a Diety

Published in magical realism, love, Beauty by sajji | Comment (11)

I've never written about you,

As your essence is that of a myriad of light, settling and then reflecting as I attempt futilely to capture and caress it

A basis of reason, simplicity within objectivism,

(I cannot argue with your/this truth)

Unlike any warrior I've ever known, as I've only dealt with fists.

Your words flow unbridled, conquering any target you aim at

Oh! Dedicated commander of my adoration, its so difficult

I want to know you wholly, run my fingers through your hair and saturate myself with your spirit.

Jul 06

Watered Down Motives and Realistic Finality (confessions of a sub-par artist)

Published in confessional, art by sajji | Comment (2)

My mind has left me

blank

As the canvas that sits idle, questioning, before me

Its nonexistant values and colors usher me into oceans of thought that pull at my thinning conscience

Because my fantasies are not water soluble

And is it not the conception, or the act of painting which is really the majesty of creation?

In this carnal race against your clock, my time limit, his arms are looking enticing...

I have you matted, locked into finality and unquestioning adoration.

I have you framed and signed and I've sealed the deal as a successful lover and art conquest

But what if...

Jul 02

Dryspell

Published in sex by sajji | Comment (3)

I drag myself, sprawled out, not even crouching or limping across this desert.

Devoid of water, life, a comforting draft of wind, but most importantly, your touch.

And regardless of how much I moisturize, or what brand of lotion I use, it matters not.

Because here in this monotonous, seemingly endless stretch of longing,

You are missing.

Not gone, but missing. Still I feel you.

These licking flames upon my burning back scorch like your tongue upon my skin.

This R-rated scenario is not the kind that washes, calming over me, or sprays and tickles my protruding limbs, forcing me to giggle.

Jun 24

Social Performer

Published in Untagged by sajji | Comment (3)

Rippin' and rarin'

All I speak about is angst

I'm tired of my own fuckin' metal landscapes.

And now I'm landlocked. Clockstopped.

Strapped for quarters in these arcades,

I've got nothing to trade away, unlike these preteens up on stage.

Skills? Without a "z", unamiably, I'm a slave to the free

Pin on my smile with my apron and rejoin the party "gleefully".

I'm not a partygoer in a black little tress,

"'Prada'? No, love, its 'Adultress'!"

Jun 23

i think i'm learning the wrong things in school

Published in stream of consciousness by sajji | Comment (5)

I'm screaming, staring at the world through turquoise-tinted glasses,

I'm singing in the art room, breaking chalk and ditching classes.

Not scene or emo poser, preppy, punk, or gothic bitch,

My label now reads "VOID", I've found my own harmonic pitch.

Its a state of mind, a pigment, a syllabled, warbling hue,

It surpasses gym and grammar, never structured, pure and true.

A vibrant, ringing chord of glee, of passion and despair,

It saunters across my canvas and sits hanging in the air.

I pray to God its frequency will break much more than glass,

'Till then I'm drifting out to sea, drawing ponies during math.

Jun 22

Midol Headtrip (more tea?)

Published in Untagged by sajji | Comment (2)

Table salt with cap askew, loosely twisted and passed to you. I'll laugh, I won't know what else to do...

It's a juxtaposition of consequense, I've lost my track of compliments. Not knowing what overused line to sing next, I'm a dried out teen who can't sell sex.

And I'm done with posing, I'm done trying to be a worn out mannequin who pretends to be free.

I've got all these limbs that hold on too tight, they prevent my escape when presented with flight