Tag: #hiding

The Hermit Chronicles: Castle Of Singularity

“…Disgusted at the guilt or absurdity of Mankind, the Misanthrope flies from it: He resolves to become a Hermit, and buries himself in the Cavern of some gloomy Rock…” – Matthew Gregory Lewis, The Monk
seattlestravels

I existed alone, in a little cave of nowhere, and was quite content to exactly be where I didn’t know. Gladly retiring to my castle of singularity, I sensed others, not prowling, but curious of my existence. I hid quietly, waiting for them to pass by like so many times before, but then the rustling stopped, the leaves breathlessly announcing a turn in the path leading to me. The steps crunched closer and my hiding place is revealed. I’ve discovered many places to hide, and in spite of my camouflage, there I’m found. I don’t want them to find me, I want to remain secluded, my resources won’t support their hunger and thirst. No matter how I try, they come. With desires no man can tame, they press me out of my comfort, pushing me to give a portion of myself. What is it about a man who desires no pleasure of company, that lures so many to invite themselves to just that, his company? The more I push and pull from society, the more curiosity I inspire. Can’t they just pass by and stop following me down these endless circling, rocky paths? Then only to lay on me the guilt of their choice saying, “You never looked out for us, you led us down the wrong path”. Turn back little ones, fair maidens, here in this dark cave lies great desire, desire that will fuel the pain of loss, for only when you desire much can your hopes be dashed against the longing, when all you sought disappears in the dark once again.

05102013

No One Can See

“It’s just some instinct as old as fear: you seek the dark when you hide, you seek the light when the need to hide is gone. All the animals have it too. (“New York Blues”)”
– Cornell Woolrich, Night and Fear: A Centenary Collection of Stories 
 
i3 – ytimg
Flee my soul into the tide
Dive my soul into the night
No one can see
 
Float again, soon to be
The flavor of lust again in thee
No one can see
 
Something beyond calling to me
To gather my strength and give esteem
No one can see
 
Hiding alone amongst the trees,
again I rejoice in the fallen leaves
No one can see
 
Flying through the depths of seas
in the caves are heavens keys
No one can see
No one can see
12212010

Skin – Yours feels good on me

Be forewarned: This is a creative application of an analogy
“The finest clothing made is a person’s own skin, but, of course, society demands something more than this.”  – Mark Twain
 
“It’s a sad man my friend who’s livin’ in his own skin and can’t stand the company.”                             – Bruce Springsteen

 

ad libitum

Pulling out my favorite skin, one of the many I’ve gathered over the course of years, I pushed one foot through, then pulling it over my head, stood up and turned around. There, now I’m complete. I looked in the mirror, this skin is tight, it doesn’t quite fit. “After all my hunting to find the perfect fit, damn.” These things change you know, in the night while your sleeping, they shrink and grow taking on their own wild destiny. It’s hard to pull out the men, the women, from their skins. I yank and tug, making little cuts to release the flesh, loving when it just falls off, but that usually meant someone else had the same idea, using it to hide, or rather, to enhance their look. My collection is extensive and ever changing. I pulled some off of religious fanatics, some from thugs, some from pretty boy hair bands. I yanked a couple off some bikers and even a lawyer couldn’t escape my scheming thievery. All skin is beautiful by virtue of hiding mine. I sit looking in the mirror at my latest acquisition. I sure look good in it, wish I could move though, it always rips when I go outside. No worries though, I’ll keep yanking and saving them and perhaps sew them together. I’ll find one that fits and works eventually. I wish they wouldn’t leave marks on me, it blows my cover when you see pieces that obviously don’t fit on me. I’ll make excuses and hold it on while I scurry to pull another skin over the unfinished parts of me.

Also Published in: Wingposse Magazine, April 2013

12202012 

Hidden

“Camouflage is a game we all like to play, but our secrets are as surely revealed by what we want to seem to be as by what we want to conceal.” – Russell Lynes  


darkjinn

Cloaks, shields, cover for you.

Duck, run, defense for you.
Leaves they blend with your skin
Camouflage from within.
Scent not your own,
Voice unknown.
Scant you appear.
Leaning away in fear.
Shadows, darkness to confuse
Who can know you, when hiding is your muse?

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

011811 

Love In Hiding – Why is love so evasive?

“Maybe it’s just hiding somewhere. Or gone on a trip to come home. But falling in love is always a pretty crazy thing. It might appear out of the blue and just grab you. Who knows — maybe even tomorrow.” – Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
hop3lessdreamers

Why is love so evasive? It hides behind impossibilities. Dancing around dashed hopes and crushed dreams, it laughs, seemingly immune. Attempts to force its hand are met with indifference. It scoffs at the futility of such manipulations. It can appear dead, then, resurrect itself in spite of all logical resistance. Contrary to reason, it brings to madness the mind of the genius. Delighting in the bafflement of its adversaries, it raises strong arms to show defiance of prediction. Having disarmed reason and logic it takes the journey into sweet insanity, a wandering exploration through places beyond imagination. Struck with its seduction, a mere touch becomes a fire of uncontrolled passion. A whisper transforms itself into an echo that continues long after the source had taken its leave. Having then all power held in suspension at its will, surely the proverb is true, “now abide faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” I would have to agree, and that is the reason for love’s evasiveness – it is because it can.

Also published in Broowaha
Also published in Wingposse
10252011

The Trail – Memories

“He was still too young to know that the heart’s memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the 
burden of the past.” 
 

Blown by the breeze of your passing
Branches sweep the evidence of you away
Spinning dirty tornadic wisps bare false witness
Evidence of our union, gone down a dusty way

I wander past the forks of choices gone wrong
Seeing pieces of your love hanging on the thorns
Finding you though you hide among shapeless brush
Setting my heart to the trail, I am endlessly torn

My Worst Enemy – Self deprecation

“All the shitty stuff people do to themselves… it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. 
To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.” – Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

Giggling, you see me. I was hiding and you found me, again. I ran but you took a short cut and found me. I yelled but you hid and wouldn’t let anyone see you. They say I’m crazy now. You always hide when I tell someone about you. You tormented me most of my life. At every turn you‘re there to talk your crap about me. Your sure to tell me what negative thing someone else is thinking about me, you won’t even give them a chance to say it first. You hurt me more than anyone I know. I finally gave up running and you found other ways to torment me. You love the chase. I partied so hard trying to get rid of you, I nearly died. I lost everything, all trying to hide from you. The times you beat me, I just cant count them. I relied on you to help me many, many times. You always let me down, and left me to my own escapes: drugs, parties, sex, and music. Damn if I could just live without you I‘d be better off. Quit talking to me, quit stealing my dreams, quit trying to make me feel guilty. Just quit it! I’m tired of you, get out of my life. But you won‘t listen, you just hide, waiting for the chance to shoot me in the foot again, then laugh as you see me trying to pick myself up. I know you well, my enemy. I know you well because you are me.

My Worst Enemy – Self deprecation

“All the shitty stuff people do to themselves… it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. 
To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.” – Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

Giggling, you see me. I was hiding and you found me, again. I ran but you took a short cut and found me. I yelled but you hid and wouldn’t let anyone see you. They say I’m crazy now. You always hide when I tell someone about you. You tormented me most of my life. At every turn you‘re there to talk your crap about me. Your sure to tell me what negative thing someone else is thinking about me, you won’t even give them a chance to say it first. You hurt me more than anyone I know. I finally gave up running and you found other ways to torment me. You love the chase. I partied so hard trying to get rid of you, I nearly died. I lost everything, all trying to hide from you. The times you beat me, I just cant count them. I relied on you to help me many, many times. You always let me down, and left me to my own escapes: drugs, parties, sex, and music. Damn if I could just live without you I‘d be better off. Quit talking to me, quit stealing my dreams, quit trying to make me feel guilty. Just quit it! I’m tired of you, get out of my life. But you won‘t listen, you just hide, waiting for the chance to shoot me in the foot again, then laugh as you see me trying to pick myself up. I know you well, my enemy. I know you well because you are me.