Noise pollution everywhere

How do animals in small sparse forests handle this? Living in a constant state of fear

 

Advertisements

My man, forest

I became a real vegetarian six years ago. The thought of someone suffering overpowers the taste. Little by little I’m noticing that I don’t need much at all.
Clutter binds me; I want to detach myself from things that I don’t use. I don’t care to put on too much makeup, I don’t care too much about fashion…
I just want to have natural and genuine relationships with people. Maybe that’s why in parties I seem happy, because I am… letting myself get questioned. But every time I feel the pressure to behave like how I should, I clam up.
Deep in the forest, by the cave, I sit with animals who keep me company from the distance. We don’t say a word and we don’t touch at all, but I feel like they’re listening to the melody of my heart. I look at a hare and think that I could never hurt it. The hare hops away to do what it does in order to live. I look down and play with rocks in my hand. The sun manages to beam through the tree branches into the woods. It feels so lonely out here once in a while. With whatever little I have left, sometimes I feel like I myself am disappearing. I walk the forest trails following this strong, invisible thread of love. I push through the leaves and look as far as I could to see if I could find him. I don’t know if it even leads to anywhere, but it’s the only thing that gives me hope.

Boxed shell

How real is this fact
That I’m out here, able and intact
Underneath shelters and shelters of
Clothes, blankets and thick walls
Preserved in like a specimen
Segregated and closed off in a pitch black cellular chamber
That’s silent, faraway, and forgotten
Awake, with a buried heart that wonders
Whether there’s a man in a forest
Who could hear

 

Tropical bird

Please don’t leave, he whispered from the depths of his heart
Her forest eyes pierced into his mind and took him elsewhere
Paradise
Where red-yellow birds flew over the rainbow
And the waterfalls drenched into the ground
Don’t leave me, he thought
As he buried his nose in her hair
And got soaked in that waterfall.

In a dimly lit room, there remained only he and she
But when he closed his eyes, she was somewhere else
In paradise
Her dark hair cascading down her back
The piece of clothing around her; green
Her forest marble eyes and her adoring smile
Flashing at him with the peaking sunlight
Her careless walk with the wind
How salty her skin
He clenched the shell of her underneath the dim lights
And begged her not to leave

Red planet

Here I am, in the red planet. The atmosphere here stings my skin as I sit alone in this arid dust bowl. The sky’s red and it’s making my eyes bleed. My crimped hair’s brittle and it obscures my vision. My throat’s dry and I squirm on the rocky ground in dreams of quenching thirst. My mouth thinks it’s water, but I’m eating dirt. It gets inside my fingernails. It smears across my face. I grab a handful of it and let it squeeze out of my clenched fists. Am I even human anymore? Am I a machine? Am I an empty shell? Am I just dying slowly and awaiting to be filled by your holy water in the palms of my hand?
Release me in the downpour of a summer’s rain.
Let it splash across my face like being roped in the tides of your love.
I think of jittery visions of your powerful arms around my waist from a thousand years ago, and your tender kiss underneath the waterfalls in paradise. I can warp back in time to when the world glowed before my innocent eyes, and you saw it from across the room and then asked me out.
There was a world once where the birds flew over the rainforest, and we made love on the ground after a spell of laughter. There was a time when the sun set and you followed me to the beach, and I saw its beautiful reflection in your striking eyes. Redo the moment when I was pinned against the wall and I believed in your promise of true love murmured near my ears. There are wires deep inside that bond to my brain and it recollects your hidden flesh. It resurrects before my eyes in a way that’s truly holy. If there’s god, I believe in one and it’s in the form of your warm-blooded body. Your body, that of a Greek god, naked and pale stands before me. Is it you, or are you a flickering image prerecorded and absent? I reach out my crooked finger to touch you but it just passes through. My eyes squint and blink sporadically while they shut. Let me believe that I’m not dreaming. Wake me up and tell me that we’re sitting in back of the taxi cab once more near the city shores. The city is so alive and the air is humid and hot, and there’s sweet scent of your warm breath tantalizing over my neck. I reach to cover it. My teeth are chattering. My body is shivering in cold. A wave of sediments blow and deposit over it, and I wonder how long I’ll live like this.

Line of sakuras

In the morning I see you in a whole new light. I sense you with a dream-like feeling in a surrounding that echoes faraway birds, where you’re looking away. This is a special place where you exist; sitting and reading alongside a line of Japanese sakuras in a Brazilian rain forest, where Indian elephants roam wild and you could hear them. I spot you occupied in your bliss while I stand observing, breathing in this mystical environment, inhaling the scent of your refreshing aura that spills from within your warmth and oozes all around me, infuses into me,
and I dance in it; dance in thoughts of breathing with you, living on you; just hanging off you with my arms around your neck, helplessly, smiling, gazing at those warm eyes, that soft lip, the fold by the side of your neck…
I can live, again and again.

 

Noori

There’s a beautiful bird out in a forest. She flies her little wings up and down the hilly terrain near the glistening, cold Himalayas. They refer to her as Noori; this beautiful, colorful bird. On rare occasions they get a glimpse of her striking beauty. Yet always, they hear her tweeting her silly, sweet songs to herself. Tunes that echo across mountains, resonate through valleys, and penetrate through souls.

She makes me cry, this little bird.
I’d sacrifice a limb for her. I’d die for her.

There’s a little bird that sings her sweet songs in a forest. Her innocence is what lovers fall for. Her beauty is what poets write of.

Including one,

who is my father.