Slightly Wrong, Always Write.
An artistic place for the delightfully deranged.
Aurora Matahari Raiment
G. Bennett Ulrich
I hate labels. Yet,
sometimes I need them
I hate anything
that makes you hateful.
I hate the fear
of the knowledge
that I could conspire
to hurt you, when
all you have shown me
It's because we're two of a kind
and you're afraid
of the other you.
Afraid of myself?
Aren't we all?
Afraid of not truly knowing ourselves,
afraid of losing ourselves, not
Fear is a four letter word...
Let's change it
--Make it real
so I can visualize...
thickly enveloping me
Unable to reach out...
can be the greatest freedoms.
Take this poem, for example,
we never said that we would only write in English,
yet we tend to--
we just know what works and we go with it.
The rules are unspoken
until they're broken,
then a simple word or phrase
brings us back to the point
that we work well together
and play well too.
It's not a chore--
There are a lot of unspoken rules aren't there?
I like to believe that if they aren't verbalized,
they don't exist.
I think I am living slightly shrouded,
but you see right through me,
to the core,
knowing me and not walking away.
What makes you stay?
I've been burdened with sight
--and I can see that this is far more than
So you will wait out the monsoon,
the torrent of melancholy to find me
and reaching out with open arms?
Will you wager the diamonds of your time,
or cast your pearls at swine?
Hope is reserved for those too afraid
to have faith.
I've seen the signs,
this deluge will end
and I will send out my dove to find land,
a strong and safe place to stand.
Will you stand alone?
I am not going to worry about the outcome anymore.
If this is a pairing of perfection,
then you and I will be writing late at night
for a million Phoebus falls.
And that takes out the sting slap immediacy.
So be it.
Reprinted with permission of authors