All posts by estebansaldovar

Ways of seeing things

It’s frustrating when 2 people see things and have issues on different levels that don’t match-up.  1 of those levels would be the purely physical, where needs need to be met: sexual and emotional, and well as for status and social purposes. The other is the level of Fate, where people get creative and decide to cut someone off for or include them for reasons that only they know, because they envision a path of actions leading into other situations that necessitates that inclusion or ostracism.  This is the continual pondering of people that are either bored or very sensitive to such issues.

The problem is that we all get pissed-off like that, since a very real element is left out of a relationship, creating massive frustration, yet it may be for better. In the end the person who has been most active seeks absolution and feels guilty, yet does not know that his/her subject/s are also seeing the causal relationship of events as their events too, linking and supplying a need to deviate their Fate. On the receiving end the blame stops, because the subject has seen enough confirmations of where the Fater is going. It is the Fater who has the problems with conscience, and also eventually with needs, since they cannot well repair the ‘damage’, that has now gone on to form part of someone’s, or several peoples’ Fate. And they were right; there would be little point to go on thinking it was wrong, since events have interlaced since.

Don’t do nuffing, mmmorwhat

The first crackling rose

On your breath

The new scuzz

Makes that noise

And noisier it gets

Until the second batch I suppose

Then the black rant of suckness

Holding in, as discreetly as possible

Or blowing back into your mouth

He’s there on the bed

Cutting Helebora on his Kindle Fire

That cost 500 pounds my arse

So we talk,

And I’m trying to let you know

Your included

Not protruded

Or absconded

Just you

You know

We talk

More crap

It’s about being these

People

We had no intention of being

Fucked-upness is not tiring

It’s the way to a new sentiment

It’s a way to isolate

From Prying

Aggamemnon

Do not forget your friends

The ones that made you who you are

For they are the seed

The flowers on the inside

They are the rose

They hold you

And give you a mission

Every day

Fucked forever

Now I get it

Shame is a mantel

Under which we pray

For those that never forgot

That in the end

They want their wishes kept

Dark

And astounded

To peek out the night

To eke out the day

No-one did that

Or Maybe St John did

In his visions of Santa Maria

Maybe the Cancionero

‘Por una secreta escala disfrazada

Con azuncenas olvidadas’

That’s for you lovery

Our midnight kiss of shame

A window separates us

in the morning

and we bail-on

discovery

and hide beneath the mantle

and make our lives

I miss your touching too

I miss him

His stupid debonairity

I miss everything

And that’s alright

No probs

We are the secret missionaries

With hooded wings

Our glances refract the sun

Of it’s milky orb the night

Pay me to hush you tender

ANd I’ll give it back in kind

For you I became someone

Unlike what I thought

And for me you anguish

When we’ve won all thoughts

All things like torch lit carriage races after the feast

Oh dear, dear!

We perambulate carefully, wisely take substances, and remember a particular state that we call grace; though finding that perhaps we have to appear normal, and do all things in moderation, or in fact as much as we wish to; fight the looks and wishes of others to wear the hat of Montague.

Do you know what I talk about dear? I love the cavalier, disassociated nerdy computer geek academic. He has so few friends, and then invited one person over, maybe another friend; I mean how many are there?

So yes, how could I possibly get so wound-up. Of course, it’s been 2 years now. We met around Armageddon supposedly, so that’s 31st December 2012. It’s been nearly 2 years. Does it feel like more to you?  Have you any idea what all this signifies for us, for you? It has been pretty major stuff. Quite hassly and quite extreme and a turn-on. A turn-on of passion, of absence and desire. And now to the compassing of the resultant; a fair and demure likeing of life; a companionship with gentle disguise and folly. Utter undoing of preconceptions of sophistication that you went about hating anyway.

And us? Still the same funny companions. Very much love and no real prospects of meeting; maybe ambling over to the sofa and the pouring-in of the light, and the coffee, the cigarette; the folly of herbal medicines; highness for what?

To know you are somewhere, somewhere good. Somewhere loved. Somewhere at peace with yourself, somehow waiting, raising, flying, happy; as I am too.

photo-of-navy-200-year-commemoration-plaque-courtesy-the-port-of-san-diego