Visual Poetry

I create patchworks of art and poetry to create visual essays.

Why I wish to be a fig:
Today I learnt that figs are flowers
That bloom inwards.
Humbly and softly,
Tiny blossoms unfurl on the inside.
I wish to be a fig,
And nourish my insides
Without a care of the outside
The noise, the chatter, the uselessness of it all.
But does the world
have the time to cut through
the transverse garden of the glorious fig?

Like a cassette stuck on repeat,
Your memories blind my eye screen
Slides sift by, blurrily
And I watch them over and over
Trying to spot 
The exact time 
when the dust 
started 
to 
slip 
through 
the 
c
r
a
c
k
s

And all those people were drowning and she couldn't save them. So she closed her eyes and let the waves bury the dead under the seabed. 
The songs of the seagulls swallowed up the gurgling screams.
(Images and words that haunt my dreams)

In sleep I finally found you.

Sleep is the bookmark of life. 
"People say, 'I'm going to sleep now,' as if it were nothing. But it's really a bizarre activity. 'For the next several hours, while the sun is gone, I'm going to become unconscious, temporarily losing command over everything I know and understand. When the sun returns, I will resume my life."

The Petrol for Humans
“A cup of tea would restore my normality." - Douglas Adams

"I'd Like To Walk Around Your Mind"

We call it falling in love; this fall is perceived as such a beautiful thing. We believe in this spiralling collapse, as if it would somehow elevate our soul. Why is it called a fall though? Shouldn't we all be ascending in love? Is it because it's a trap we're falling into? 

Adam and Eve led a blissful existence in Paradise until they sinned and fell. But did they fall in love or out of it? After the fall, they bickered till no end and saw each other's naked flawed selves. Is the fall in the term 'falling in love' associated with the fall of our inhibitions, the crumbling of our superficial shields? 
Who knows.

I'm not an empty canvas 
For you to etch your dreams upon,
Nor am I the leaf of a dejected notebook
For you to scribble upon
With your jarred words.
I wasn't made to complete your grimy broken pieces,
Or smoothen your neurotic creases.
I wasn't made to fulfill your fantasies,
Nor to hide your glaring fallacies.
I'm not under your parole.
I have done it before and I will do it again,
I will set fire to your soul.

Solitude

A splash of caffeine is as essential as an early morning shower, if not more.

Let's dive into a cup of tea.
'You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.' - C.S. Lewis

'there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.'

- Charles Bukowski, Bluebird

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

- Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song