Claudia222…..A Jewell!!

Posted on April 15, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Ta Da!! Here I am in my Post-Human Baroque styling, pierced in
the heart by my very affectionate cephalopod so let me tell you how I got here…
I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Claudia222 Jewell’s new art installation last night at Pirats Art Network. I had already been put to dream and babble poetry by her one on Farstar entitled “Parallel Worlds”, and actually that is where I caught up with her last night, when I hooked up with my artist friend Rag Randt to see her build.
RAG and I had been flying over my own sim and I was going to show him a picture of it, as I was in an animated description of how incredible her organic textures looked, when he said “Well let’s just go there”
In SL, a teleport is worth a thousand pictures, and we were off to visit her Parallel Worlds. I joined the group and picked up her free gift, an amazing creature called a “cthuhul” which is a winged fantasy transport to be used to view her installation in style and in theme.
I once again felt that truly I had fallen into a parallel world, but unfortunately was not dressed for it. My garish purpley-blue and red had nothing in common with the rich, golds, greens, and thick colors of her creations. By luck Claudia was there and we chatted, and then I realized somehow, the opening of her new show at Pirats had totally escaped me, and we whizzed off to see what we had missed.

so NOT color-coordinated

Claudia, always the very generous and gracious hostess helped us find our way up to her artistic new dream-build of pale moths and beautiful props of quartz and jeweled rocks, abalone turquoise against gold beading..so breath-taking. RAG jumped on his own moth transport and I hitched a ride with Claudia and we had a private tour of her creative color sense,  awesome texturing techniques, and just her artistic imagination come to virtual life.

Riding with Claudia222 and loving her world

"like fungus dripping in a honey..."

She told us she got this entire build together in 4 days, and used a few things from her other one, but most was entirely new… that working under pressure like this was a “nightmare” but we both agreed that the final product was far from it…so far from it. Every where we flew around,we admiringly “ooed” and the build goes from 60 to 80 meters. We saw first hand what she meant about how the clouds “got in the way” too. At one point in her own words she described a section as ” like fungus dripping in a honey cover…mushrooms…and the moths breeding and get ready for a life” Wow… must be experienced to believe!
It was nearing 6am on Claudia’s side of the world, so we thanked her and waved her off to sweet dreams, then set off to see a bit more, before our own time clock expired. This place needs more than one viewing, as the minute detailed textures can keep you hung up in one spot for a long time. I couldn’t stand it anymore, and changed my clothes while flying around. I hid behind a moth breeding area and found a more suitable Steampunky -Post-Human Baroque outfit (complete with bubble blowing gold-fish in my helmet) and breathed a deep sigh as I now felt in vibration with gold hues and beyond..

Ahh..I can breathe again in Steampunky -Post-Human Baroque

RAG and I went over to visit the octopus who I had already met, or perhaps his first cousin, on Parallel Worlds. This Cephalopod was feeling frisky and amorous and before she left, Claudia told me he had said hello to me by name, so he might have been the one I had a sweet but short-lived affair with on Farstar..They really Do all look alike (see post)
Well I swam/flew past him and I caught that glint in his deep- set brown eyes that at any minute glow orange with chicanery. He made cephalopod cooing and whistling sounds, that sounded like he was going “psst psst” and his tentacles were all over me as I passed by.

wolf whistles and all arms that frisky Cephalopod

When I yelled to RAG that he was getting a bit too comfortable with me,(the octopus not RAG:), he came rushing over and got under the hood to check for…hmm maybe teeth?, or sexual maturity?..hard to know what is under there, but RAG looked like a doctor about to give a diagnosis.

"hmmm" said Dr. RAG

“This is a fully adult male octopus” he declared.
No news there, as I had just slipped away from his last advance, and barely so.

He was not trying to teach me dance steps...

That spineless romeo was not trying to teach me dance steps when he jumped me from behind. I was pretty sure of that, or that he wanted to give me swimming lessons (backstroke?) Anyway, the hour was late and I said goodnight to Rag and blew one last kiss to the frustrated Cephalopod and banked sharply for the long flight back to my own sim.

making a sharp bank to climb home, on steam- powered boots

My night didn’t end right then, because as soon as I got back, I just had to try out my group present that I got from Claudia’s Parallel Worlds. I rezzed it on the ground, jumped aboard and typed “start” Ahh… I feel another adventure coming on… and it even has black bubbles that follow you while you flap the airways.

As far as group gifts go...this cthuhul is the most wonderfully bizarre

The creature breathes like a respirator, eerily and rhythmically and maybe I was a bit heavy but it flew valiantly. We were illuminated by moonlight, sim breeze behind and giving us lift..While I counted the seconds that the black bubbles held their murky draped drawing- room colors. I whispered my silent thank you to the one responsible for this unforgettable evening Claudia222!!! For all of us here in Second Life lucky enough to see what you create and do, you are a Jewel with a double “L”

For all of us in Second Life Claudia222....You are a Jewell!!

Karima Hoisan
April 15,2011

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In The Emerald City Of Hair

Posted on April 14, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

So we meet in the Emerald City of Hair

DB…
and so we meet in the Emerald City of Hair.
I turn the corner and there you stand, in the corridor,
soft metal walls and floors of silky hair,
bare footed, doing and undoing.
You say my words snap at your heels,
because I find it so hard to wait to dream
in every one of your shades and you begin to hear
my whining and barking through the walls.
Wizard of Locus, eccentric genius of  structure’s art and surprise,
of course it is my wish, to open chamber doors as they roll out
the entrance of your brilliant boutique of art unique.
Your island scenes are like Easter eggs that I hunt and find,
then float in light hues gorging myself on their colored texturing.
I fly through the air snapping at your heels like a demented cocker- spaniel
barking More! More! More!…
You take the ordinary and make it extraordinary
and allow me the luxury of any word that pops into my head
to be fed by your rich changing landscapes.
I am a Dorothy,
who not even realizing what she was seeking,
found a sculpted radiant rainbow chunk of it
in your kingdom.
Thank you,
Karima

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I Eat Color And It Makes Me Dance

Posted on April 13, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I eat color and it makes me dance

(please click and play this beautiful song Suave Suave by B-Tribe while you read)

I Eat Color And It Makes Me Dance

I eat color and it makes me dance.
It flows into my open mouth like ribbons of sweet candy
and flavors me to close my eyes and sigh.
I see food where you see light beams, I reach out and taste them
with wet lips and my eyes roll up into my mind
and I smile while color drips down my chin.
I can’t help myself, this is how it’s always been.
I eat color and it nibbles tenderly back on me and bathes my face.
I will be obese on pale steel blue served to me on orange plates
to savor with silverware of iridescent emerald spoons.
My tongue feels drops of red that turn to pink that turn to dance and then…
I turn around and there is a pliét and I am executing it.
I throw back my head and raise my arms and all the colors wash over my eyes,
my nose is being courted by pale off-white whiffs, that mix with orange making peaches and cream and fantasy dreams, and I swallow it excitedly, then….
I dance**~~~~ and
I dance**~~~~ and
I dance!

Karima Hoisan
April 13, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island SL
© 2011 all rights reserved

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**~Bubbles~**

Posted on April 12, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I am not dreaming as I recline on the very orange divan

please click and  play this song byKarunesh to enjoy while you read the poem

**~ Bubbles~**

I am not dreaming as I recline on the very orange divan,
my Bubble wand now casually held in my relaxed right hand.
I look around, ahh..these surroundings make it easy for me to wait,
but Bubbles have not that luxury, and soon they will weaken and deflate.

they set off  to explore like the bubble-metro express

They set off to explore the island like the Bubble metro– express,
Passing through walls with colored swirls in synchronized finesse,
but their lifetime is so short and finite, that’s why they call out to me
To wave my wand a few more times, so more have opportunity.

And I smile, spinning around to give a chance to many more

I rise from my repose, follow the Bubbles as they float out the door,
And I smile, spinning round again, to give a chance to many more.
They hover, staying close to each other, reflecting the beauty that they see,
but it makes me sad to think that every single one, soon will cease to be.

But for the lucky Bubbles who float and travel a minute or two,
They bring joy to all who see them as they fly by in plain view.
The faces of smiling children texture their outer nature with a glow
No one is immune to Bubbles, who are born to ride upon Life’s shorter blow.

“Fly away my beauties, while the color is fresh around you!”
Blow on upward drafts of gentle wind and glorious melting hues.
I send you to your journey and your short-lived Bubble glory
Like a may-fly you will die too quickly, that is your written story.

Quickly Bubbles! Go and see the changing marvels of your world

Quickly Bubbles! Go and see the changing marvels of your Land!
Look! What strange colors and creatures you have so close at hand.
Come close to all that’s near and be their highlight and their favorite mirror.
If only for some seconds, make them feel and know that you were here.

Your short-lived span with us is closing…

Your short-lived span with us is closing and I feel the fade is growing
I sense it in the way you twirl your shades, now dull and slowing.
Bubble.. Bubbles.. thank you for the awe that you inspire in me
But excuse me while I turn my head, so your ending I won’t have to see.

 

 

Karima Hoisan
April, 12, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island SL
©2011 all rights reserved

*please see my comment

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The Ship of White Dreams

Posted on April 11, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

The ship of white dreams is anchored in the harbor

please click and play the music Arapapa~ Bliss to enjoy while you read the story

The Ship of White Dreams

The ship of white dreams is anchored in the harbor.
This time I drink the white liquid down in three deliberate swallows. I keep my eyes closed tightly shut as I was instructed, and there is no little imp inside of me telling me to open them and peek through my long lashes. Today’s journey is a mutual agreement, a contract of simple trust and I am committed to keep my side of it, no matter what.
The red room was another transformation, I was told, and the Red Dream ( see post), that the scarlet liquid induced in me, or perhaps I imbued in it, was a sensual awakening of my senses, the tactile coming of age.
I sit quietly, eyes closed, the salty air plays with my loose strands of hair, and it begins to feel like every time I notice a bit more disorientation in my thinking, is when I feel the puffs of wind on my hair, and I now imagine the wind is trying somehow to lift me up from my spot on the white deck. I was told that when the liquid surges through me I will be able to open my eyes and see once again the glowing free-form dream ship I had only glimpsed for a second, before he said in my ear softly but firmly,
“Close your eyes my dear”
While I wait for his voice to tell me what comes next, I reach out and touch the sides of the ship that are nearest to me. I run my hands over the glossy warm smoothness and I imagine it reflecting the sunlight until it is almost too blinding to look at it directly. I hear the sails, which are made out of spun glass I am told, and I accept that possibility as I accept everything that is happening to me lately. They are flapping in a sort of glass wind-chime tinkling, every once in awhile snapping like conventional canvas ones. The snap and tinkle, the feeling of the ship’s rounded  sides, the easy hypnotic rocking in this calm harbor allows the effects of the liquid to magnify in my brain. I hear his voice and feel his breath whispering close to me,
“Open your eyes my dear”

When I open my eyes I am beginning to lift up from the deck

The sunlight is blinding me again, because too much light is like a darkness

When I open my eyes I am beginning to lift up from the deck and the sunlight is blinding me again, because too much light is like a darkness, and I shut my eyes to protect them as I ascend in a slow elevating spiral. I try to level out and find some way to control my travel. Perhaps I am still sitting on the ship below and he is watching me sway and flap my arms comically, but in my mind, I feel I am weightless again and maneuvering to gain grace and some measure of control, although I know the liquid and my willingness to obey instructions overpowers much of my improvisation. I come to the conclusion it doesn’t really matter where I am, as in my mind I am now going up in the air.
I do manage to right myself and open my eyes, and the beauty of the scene and the ship I have just left is revealed in a moving moment of total awe, and I swoop down again towards it, like a gliding falcon looking for the arm of her trainer, to rest safely upon, but my trainer has vanished and gone. I circle the deck one more time and then, flight is mine to try to learn to use and enjoy, and I take control of my vision by attempting to pilot myself over this magic land.

The air currents easily float  my body

The air currents easily float my body, as I bank expertly and make a last pass across the stern. Even though my head is churning like an accelerator and fear keeps a foot on that pedal, there is a carefree feeling of adventure and maybe even some secrets about to be revealed, I don’t know yet, and the not knowing is a rush on its own.

I take off to explore the airways of this strange colored land

I take off to explore the airways of this strange colored land, and I feel white and pure, full of clear thoughts that rush in, one after another, all of them making me lighter, freer, and less burdened than when I first sat down, weighted by gravity and too much useless thinking to ever get off the ground on my own. I love to fly only if I am swept up in it, but am not yet ready to throw myself off of cliffs. This time, unlike in the Red Dream, I am in control to some degree, however just as I think this thought, I feel a pull coming from below, an urge even stronger than the desire to soar high above. I am pulled on again and again by a longing to fall into the water below me. It calls up to me, in small notes and repeating waves of rhythm and I am becoming spellbound by its glimmer and its undulating surface

As if the water were jealous of the air, it casts its spell over me

As if the water were jealous of the air, it casts its spell over me, and I look down into what appears to be the most beautiful electrified gelatinous liquid of pale blues and greens and the white of small promised revelations. I arch my back and point my legs straight and decidedly, I take a swan-dive that changes into a sleek arrow finding the target, and my head pierces the bulls-eye surface and I know immediately my intuition was correct… it is in the water where I am supposed to be, and not the air as I first thought.

I hit the water and immediately I feel like I am being pulled along…”

I hit the water and immediately I am being pulled along just under the surface. I take in the thick liquid easily, and begin to breathe in some new way, as there is no feeling of drowning or transition. It seems perfectly natural to be here and yet who I am, who I was, seems so far away, that I can barely remember how I got here or the anchored ship that was my starting point. I lose track of where the liquid ends and my own form begins and then I realize my own form is losing its shape, but in a painless, barely noticeable process, that is pleasurable, truly pleasurable, like when I remove all my clothes and float in a bath, but this time my corporal structure of skin and bones are the clothes that are being peeled away by this magic liquid that undresses me with tenderness in a way I have never been undressed before.

All begins dissolving, my ego along with everything

I am slowly becoming the liquid or it is becoming me

All begins dissolving, my ego along with my body and I am slowly becoming the liquid or perhaps, it is becoming me. A moment of fear invades my surrender, but I talk myself into going with whatever might happen, even if I don’t understand it or am in control of it. He had told me that before I drank the white liquor, I might feel these flashes of doubt, but should trust and trust deeply whatever was happening to me. I do. I do.

I am now color and movement and I am not me

I am no longer anything more than the liquid that embraces me

I am now color and movement and I am not me.
I am no longer anything more than the liquid that embraces me.
When I hear his soft comforting voice in my thoughts saying,
“What is it you fear most that lives under the sea?”
I do not hesitate, and think back,”Sea Snakes!”
He says,”Then a Sea Snake you shall be”

I am a Sea Snake, and the whole sea is my playground

I am the most beautiful and misunderstood creature that lives here

I am a Sea Snake and the whole sea is my playground. I am the most beautiful and misunderstood creature that lives here, I think to him, and his voice smiles in his thoughts when he says, “Of course you are.” He lets me swim and be my new form for endless hours, perhaps in that shadowy world we call Reality, it is only a few minutes, but I feel the exquisite joy of having a long sleek body that moves quickly and agilely through the liquid world it was built for. I am in my element so to speak, and I know I mean no one who falls into my beautiful pond, any harm.
I find myself rubbing alongside the hull of the white ship anchored there, and although I do not recall any personal attachment to it, once again as the liquid begins to subside in my system, I am attracted to run my sleek snake form against the hull, which is also as glass-like, and smoothly cool as the water that suspends it in a gentle rocking. We are one, the hull and myself and I push all the way into it easily, as it is not as solid as it appears

my sinewy snake shape now splitting at the bottom…?

His voice says to me “Return” and I feel him close as I lay on the warm shiny deck, my sinewy snake shape now splitting at the bottom forming separate legs that open and close on their own similar to an ex-caterpillar pumping life back into its new self, a butterfly. I don’t move, I feel too heavy and coming back into my human body is not as pleasant as I imagined it would be. The truth,  I could have stayed a glorious mindless Sea Snake for an eternity, swimming around the Ship of White Dreams… just as long as his voice stayed close to me…

To be continued…

Posted in Prose Vignettes, Slices of Second Life, The Colored Dreams | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments

Flying Blind ~ On Instincts Only

Posted on April 10, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I wake into subconsciousness

please play the music“To Live Is To Fly ~ Townes Van Zandt” while you enjoy your flight

Flying Blind ~On Instincts Only~

I wake into subconsciousness and I am already on the move
smoothly gliding down a boulevard of emerald lights and glow-tipped leaves.
The buildings hum in expectation but even I do not know what I’ll do,
For now I hover, my fingers read the changing air as my eyesight’s lost to me.

There is no clawing panic as I fly blind, on instincts only, just four feet off the ground.
I sense I am being pulled to where it is I should be going,
so I relax each circuit of my being and let the radar take me over,
soft thick air from the warm night’s song, whispers melodies inside the breeze.

I know you will be at the end of this flight pattern, approved by higher- ups,
and you will press me to you, and I will touch your face amongst the rest.
I allow myself the luxury of rolling over onto my back, while I keep  floating,
bringing a knee up like a keel,  feeling my skirt is the main sail, topsy- turvy.

I want to eat each second of this flight like a slow motion chocolate that melts
Only in my mouth and shocks my body with a rush of pure natural release.
I am the air ship Liberty who flies her flag of freedom from the chiseled bow,
and waits to feel the one who lands her at the other side of this dream’s destiny.

Karima Hoisan
April 10, 2011
Misty Shores Linc Island SL

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Heralding The Spring ~Poets Karima Hoisan & Emile Sands~

Posted on April 9, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

Born Museum Sunday April 10th 12noon slt

On SUNDAY, 10 APRIL at 12pm SLT, a very special event heralding a much-awaited spring will take place at the Born Museum here in Second Life.

Karima Hoisan and Emile Sands will be reading a selection of spring poems to music in the environs of some very special paintings at the museum.

Immediately following, a performance by the extraordinarily gifted, Tamra Sands will set the stage for a one-hour formal ball.

So dress in your bright and floral Sunday best and please join us for this unique event as we herald spring with live poetry, music, and dance.

Born Museum

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The Red Dream

Posted on April 7, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

“My red room now lets in the blue…”

(please enjoy the smooth music of Angelo Badalamenti to set the mood while you read )

The Red Dream

Outside my window, life is glowing like smooth jazz,
a sax solo structure of framed glass that reflects my curves, my long curls.
All I know is everything is going up or coming down,
and I don’t know or care really what is happening.
My red room now lets in the blue… like a doorman suspiciously lets in strangers…
To preserve the pureness of its sensual nature, my red room says “no” to too much blue. Purple fantasies will wash in like a lovesick curtain call, staining what was perfection, changing a room it was not invited into, a room that was just beginning to ignite in hues of unexpected passion-red. Wounded hearts wear purple, and mine is healthfully on fire. Just the opposite in fact from purple’s nostalgia, and I find the right spot, to position myself and feel the red  light stroking and warm against my cheeks.
I drink down in one gulp what he left for me at my bedside, the crimson liquor, just waiting for something to happen… and now I think it is. Something is happening to me and I  am starting to lose  hold of what is solid and grounded. I feel my skirt begin to wrap and curl around me… it squeezes my calves and then breathes like a sea anemone, giddiness overtakes me and I close my eyes smiling, the idiot smile of hallucinatory bliss.
I lift off and my feet point and close like the stem of a flower heading for a vase. I am all on point and the red honey liquid begins to do fantastic things to me. I start to forget everything, why I am here, who pressed a finger to my lips and said..”just drink it like a good girl” or who was that figure behind the curtain who gave me the little glass and called me “good girl.” I forget all of that, but begin to remember so may things I never knew. Then the slow rotation takes me up and begins to twist me around..a little pinwheel being blown by the shadow of a stranger’s breath.

I twirl around and around, a dark red rotating figure, like a rare dancing flower from undersea.  I feel now the window hovering only slightly above the floorboards that catch the light from outside like a projector, the scenes texture the wood panels so that the floor appears alive. I cannot look down because I will lose the last thread holding me that still remembers my name. I feel my legs and arms pulled out, all the while I am hovering and spinning, but now I am a lovely red clad piece of game, turning on a fiery spit and the windows suddenly lose their glass in imploding bits of back-draft and I am getting sucked outside into the blue…

 

“in imploding bits of back-draft, I am getting sucked outside.”

I knew that pale blue would change everything, my mood is no longer liquid acquiescence, but instead painfully purple and flooded with such distant memories of cold calculated nights, that I curl up into my spinning flower and try to find the exit from these twisted bars of neon tubing caging me in pale blue. My scarlet dress of heat, now cold and dyed royally with harvested mollusks who gave up their tint unwillingly.

“dyed royally with harvested mollusks…”

All my efforts, all my panicked desires, are to return to the safety of my red room and seek out comfort to soothe my terror, having been sucked out of it against my will, and left trapped in this color I had feared. I fly, banging impotently against steel barriers, but a small ray of pinkish light catches my eyes and I twist and pinwheel towards it in my newly learned way of traveling. It must be the honey blood red fluid that allows me to hover with no friction, or limitations, and I will myself to pump it quickly through my blood stream and give me strength beyond what I know I have. When my flapping skirt panels reach the pink doorway, it opens wide for me and I am surrounded by strong massaging fingers, that mold and press my thighs soothing my terror until I close my eyes and forget even my name. I am lulled into pleasure where purple no longer has a hold on me and the red begins to rise up again and color my form.

I am surrounded by strong massaging fingers that mold and press my thighs

This is what the red room promised me, pure sensuality and hours of slow discovery by unknown hands who without a melodious note, play me as if I were the instrument their fingers had always longed to strum. Each member of the pillowed orchestra takes a solo on me with only their fingertips and their mastery. I am the only sound in the room when I feel sharply yanked backwards and pulled away from these musical hands that reach out one last time to play a finale, before I am summoned to return to where it all began.

“…summoned back to where it all began>”

I burst through the glass-less windows once again, but this time the beauty and comfort of my red room welcomes me. I am still full of pink rising energy and the blood red drink the strange man gave to me, is still very much swirling around inside. My thighs feel flushed and lovingly pinched as I land gracefully back on my unmade bed in the corner. The drapes now quiver behind my sideboard, revealing a trouser leg that begins to push slowly through, parting the blowing curtains.
To be continued…

Karima Hoisan
April 7th, 2011
Renacer Misty Shores, SL

*please see my comment

Posted in Prose Vignettes, Slices of Second Life, The Colored Dreams, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments

The Muse Dreams

Posted on April 5, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

 

"The muse dreamed of war until tears ran down my face."

Please enjoy this beautiful dreamy song by Runrig while you read the poem

The Muse Dreams

For RAG Randt

The muse dreamed of war until tears ran down my face.
She whispered some secrets in my ear
that made me wake and wonder.

The muse is but a messenger, for all the words are written.
She comes to paint my eyes with hidden pictures
where I linger languidly in deepest sleep.

I love and need her and sometimes I do fear her,
as she defines the very fabric of who I am,
and without a warning she could leave me.

The muse dreamed of love and love poured from my pen.
She carried me higher than I have ever been
and I kissed her on her lips with fresh-born poems.

The muse rolled me over and she told me “I’ll return”
but only when I feel like coming back. “
“Just leave your door unlatched and learn to trust me.”

I am in awe of where she goes, when suddenly she’s gone,
then I am left a mortal shell where magic hides its face
and weightless nights and days turn into lead balloons.

Karima Hoisan
April 5, 2011
Linc Renacer Misty Shores SL

*please see my comment below

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Silver Boots Take Me Away

Posted on April 3, 2011 by Karima Hoisan

I have been assaulted by my muse in the last weeks.It has made me write much more than I usually write, ( almost a poem a day)  and about some pretty heavy topics, both world relevant and personal. After my last post, “Her Name Was Noor” I felt emotionally drained and physically too ( fished a cold out of the air) and I said to a few of my friends, that I was kicking that “slave-driving muse” in the butt and taking the weekend off from writing. I accepted any invitation anyone wanted to extend yesterday, to explore, or dance, or enjoy an art opening. To make a long story short, I wound up at a sim that has a build entitled “Delicatessen Petrified” creators, CapCat Ragu and Meilo Minotaur… bizarre name for an equally bizarre place. I walked around and found a very amazing ball and sat on it..that was the end of my vacation, as my muse woke up in mid-flight and made me take about 80 pictures, most of them off-centered as I was in motion. The final product is below and I invite you to play it and just know that I really have very little idea how to put a poem up well on frames, but know I have worked almost 20 hours and I don’t think it can get much better, at least not in my hands. I share with you now Silver Boots Take Me Away. Enjoy

Here is the written out poem if you had a little trouble catching the words as they flew by

Silver Boots Take Me Away

If I could be free of all the misery
and put on my magic silver boots and fly,
and twist and dive until I drop into the ocean,
I perhaps could bear the world’s sadness that fills my eyes.

Up here the air is cool and I am almost weightless,
no burdens heavy on my back or mind,
I surrender to the pull of wind and gravity,
and say a silent prayer for humankind.

My creator made me a poet, so he didn’t add the brake.
Which makes me always slipping down inside of things,
If I don’t take some breaths of purity from clouds and open skies
I might roll into that crevasse carved by all that Life does bring

Roll me over air and sea, and bathe me in your peace
Let all the tears I’ve cried this week be dried
Charge up my mundane batteries, prepare me for new scenes
I know I am too sensitive to watch them all …I’ve tried

Silver Boots fly me away, to  know and feel too much is like an ache
I dream of better worlds that neither you nor I will  see.
Our Mother clock and all of us are winding slowly down,
Just one more glide on airborne tides… here comes reality.

Karima Hoisan
April 3, 2011
Delicatessen- Petrified, Porto, SL

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