Friday, February 19, 2021

THE BIRTH OF CREATIVITY



THE BIRTH OF CREATIVITY


Blue sky

Ocean blue

Ocean spray

Wet warm cooling in the breeze

A wave is born

Then it dies

Another is born

Another dies

The ceaseless cycle

Of creation and destruction


Castaway

Happy to be alive

Bound to the sea for so long

He comes back to

Hear it smell it taste it feel it

Or he feels ungrounded

Funny he thought he’d never 

Want to see it again

It brings up too much of the angst

Can’t live with it

Can’t live without it


Crack!!!!

A bottle hits the crags

Having ridden the waves across the vast ocean

No one hears it break

A genie escapes

Lissome silent

She walks up the boardwalk

Long muslin dress

Whiter against the blue

Blowing in the inconsistent wind

It clings to her legs on the east

Billowing to the west

Reminding him of ghosts of ships 

He’d seen when lost at sea

Her hair completely tousled

An asymmetrical silhouette

Splash!

She’s gone

Gone too soon

She did not even turn around once

For him to see if that really was her

Outlines of her face and figure

Leading angels and demons

Is what he sees 

Treading the road to perdition

Is she real?

Who is she?

Sorceress?

Waif?

Castaway like him?

Gypsy?

Mermaid?

I hear demons getting closer

Clearer 

More dangerous

By their proximity


She returns

She turns the numbers

On a combination lock

Click! The last one’s in place

A trap door opens 

Dark powerful wild

A beast from within his own psyche

Primal forceful strong

Leaps out to meet him

Other beasts come out to greet him

Unleashing a vault of horror

There’s no time to think

Only to react

She shouldn’t have done this

Spiteful bitch

She turns

A half smile

A baby nod

“Catch me if you can”

And disappears again


“I hate her”




In a flash

The anguish of Paradise lost

And the joy of Paradise regained

Melt into one another

Into nothing

Then become more than nothing

Something new is being born

Men are afraid of holding babies sometimes

And babies must sleep while beasts are being dealt with anyways


The archetypal parents make their presence felt

The tap on the shoulder

The “Attaboy!”

The “I told you so”

All come back to comfort and cajole

And seemingly to protect

But somehow it is not the right thing at the right time


The baby wails

“I’m a father now”


There’s no time to think

He can only react

So what will he do?


“When I look back on this

Will I be proud of myself?

Where’s the baby?

Where did she go?

Are they safe?

I’m not safe

I’ve known to fight the enemy

Since the day I was born

But the enemy within

Is a completely different issue”


Gnash

Growl

Blood and flesh

The horrible smell of war

“I’ve become numb

 Toward the simpering baby

Afraid to acknowledge 

He needs me like I needed my father”



A pair of eyes

Like floaters at an opthamologist’s

Distract him

Another pair opens slowly

Sleepily 

Full of promise

Little but wise


A choice is born

To protect that which needs to be protected

The world slowly

Falls back in orbit

From where it had strayed