[poetry] the pull

I got so pissed off having to write a love poem in Filipino that I'm writing a poem in English about love and life and choosing to take life with what it throws at you. Semi-inspired by Pierce Laudencia's essay "Make The Weather".

~*~

Shut your eyes to the reality of the situation,
Where beauty is in madness and madness your destination.
Step up to the plate and face truth in the eye.
Accept the fact that what your heart speaks is a lie.

This is the price you pay for the deadly game you've played.
To be authentic there must be a shred of authenticity.
But you never realized the liability of your transparency.
We can all see right through you. I can see right through you.

I can see right through me.

This is the pull of life, get over it.
Do not choose to dwell on the things you cannot control.
Keep the pattern of your life unpredictable but guided.
Your heart is a traitor but it does not always lie.

Face head-on what attempts to consume you
Be it love or a feeling like love or simply the irony of the situation.
No man can be an island or an ice king forever.
There will always be something to shatter your defenses.

The walls you so carefully build up...they are meaningless.
At any point, you yourself will choose to break them for a cause.
And once that battle has been fought and won, lick your wounds.
Feel the backfiring of the plan you thought would see you through.

It saw you through all right, but at a price.

This is the pull of insanity.
This is a demon-dance on air.
You must, you must resist the fierce beating
In your head, like an Electric cantata.

You cannot deny what you have created.
You cannot deny your past.
You must move forward with the consequences, and the issues
The battle scars which will run so deep that they will rent you through.

You cannot use this pain as an excuse to turn off life.
Or hold it on pause, because life cannot be paused
It must be lived through to the next tomorrow
Else your whole life be in vain

The pain will teach you, as long as you master it
Without pain you cannot see pleasure
Or beauty without ugliness
The paradox of ironies that shouts and screams LIFE!

You must patch yourself up again.

You must resist.
You must resist.
You MUST resist...

You must resist the pull.

Fin.

I think this is sort of like "stream of consciousness" fiction except it's stream of consciousness poetry. I have no idea what the heck I was saying, half the time. Dang. Probably my worst work EVER. I'll delete this someday, just not now.

XOXO,
Key T.
The Metal