Are We All Born With Blue Eyes?

Blue/true eyes/blue sky/blue

truth.

 

 

When we are young we know.

It’s only when older we grow.

that things become relative and relatively true.

 

And the water is muddied by appeals to your better senses

and hence develops a fear of your natural ego.

And there are industries that have developed to profit and show you the way.

Guided by guiding principles and a diagram or two.

Other worries include being labelled a religious zealot

for believing something simple like a child.

If it’s true then it needs to include a flawed you and then it’s true.

If it’s green then it flies , if it’s blue then pity poor old you.

 

Never was an unhappy child happy then when you spent time with him.

Never was a solution begging then when time wasn’t given

It’s a lonely path when we choose to be alone but there’s

the answer is togetherness while alone and provides the solution.

 

The Internet’s providing half the cure but the other comes

from time spent with each other as sister and brother and not a little charm.

 

 

From seeds does greatness grow. Let it be with love too.

and one day you will be in a forest of mangroves don’t you know.

And you problems will seem lost in a mist despite your shouting.

 

This is knowing it has all gone wrong and nobody likes to be reminded

that it’s hopeless so they choose to be alone.

 

And it’s like being a child again only this time, it’s time you ponder as your doubts grow

and you know it’s never going to improve.

Unless you see again as a child when blue was blue and love was true.

It’s all you will ever really know to be real so hope you feel the same way when you meet the love of your life and they ask you how you feel.

 

And you can truthfully say I see you and you are my world.

The Circumference That I Had Always Wished For.

prompt ( from Anonymous on Tumblr): i am in love with a man who is a mathematician. i can never be with him, never. he is way too good for me and despite seeing the saddest colours when he takes off his glasses, the flecks of blue in his eyes, he completes me. i just do not complete him.

Again my thoughts turn towards you in your pile of bricks which is architecturally constructed, in ways that you and your kind see fit. Then my eyes drop away and there they stay until something reminds me of you again. You were right about me and my work being on the way out and not the best and who was I to argue this with someone wearing a hat? I knew you were special the first time I saw you and your room. I knew that here was something I could not buy or get from the credit merchants on the high street or even a boutique anywhere but the seediest brothel in Berlin. And you looked at me with those big brown eyes wearing that shy smile and three days of stubble and those clothes that you would pay a fortune for in the retro shop. But you were present and incorrect. Wonderful! Like the square root of pi, you were the circumference surrounding me I had wished for all of my life.

But I saw a glimpse of mathematical notation that was too glorious for even Boole to see. I walked around you spoke to you, shared music and food and all the time your equation treated me like rogue data in the end you drove me crazy. And I saw you in this symbolically a symbol but unable to break free of the glorious simultaneity of your reality. For the most part, you were like wallpaper to the vertices of your planar existence but when you took off your glasses and I saw the flecks of blue and the sadness inside. And exponentially the truth came to me and being a limited vessel that I thought I was I did not know that this was how you completed me until after it happened and sadly you went away, canceling me like opposites.

In my eyes, you were the man who would take me from blistering normality to somewhere new where we could be unconditionally but the little arithmetics we made just canceled each others out and we were left staring at each other. You with hostility, me with compassion and understanding. But like oil and water we were never the twain to meet. Beside myself in agony, I rue the day we ever met.