BACKGROUND: I am a recovering blockaholic and my most recent episode lasted over four weeks; over two weeks of waking up in the morning to dry dusty unpleasant desert wind blowing into my protected tropical bedroom reminiscent of the dryness in my art-life; over two weeks of early morning thoroughly-scrubbing-my-body-in-an-attempt-to-get-rid-of-the-frustration-stuck-on-my-artlifeless-body baths; over two weeks of wondering where my eyes went as I walked generally blindfolded throughout life unable to see those hidden things I used to see –the hidden world, the hidden souls, the hidden motives in men that cry out so clearly to me usually in queer dialects. Don’t get me wrong, I could have gone down the road of just writing anything, or even a journal, just for the sake of blogging, but I write with my eyes, not my hands.
NB: I do not in any way shamefully ignorantly insinuate that those who blog to describe their everyday lives are artless.
I am sorry to say this, but the only crack through my writer’s block I am having today is a theme I am moderately known for and have been told more than once to write on less frequently.



I know
I can see you, the sweet hair you pay due attention to grooming
Sincerely and politely I must say
You have quite an assorted collection of “weeds”
(Caution: I discourage doping!)
Blooming in that lovely forest up there
That speaks well for the well-fertilised soil of a brain you have
So rich with “the stuff” that you are eternally euphoric
You get so high and closed up in your world so often
Seeing things people don’t see
Seeing things people see in ways they don’t
That people can’t seem to understand you well
They ask you to explain what exactly you mean
And later to explain even the explanation you just gave
Worse yet you feel so grand and special despite all
In your most sober state you are grandiose
I ask what is the point of speaking
If you can’t really communicate with people around
Perhaps, one day you will feel pressed
But being so smart you will struggle with words
Simple enough to ask the janitor
The direction to the toilet….

I hope I bring out well the glowing form
Of your perfect lips
Full and firm
Dripping with wildness
Is art a curse
You very smoothly talk your way into men’s souls
Almost irresistibly
Because you happened to know the deep matters of the heart
Once upon a time
So, now you can speak like an angel
Like the sweet God himself
So that less than 5% of humans alive today
Can really tell your heart is as at this day vain and sly
For the lip-gloss that makes it look attractively slippery
Hides the acerbic acidic nature

Please pardon my sardonic laughter
[Oh, and you needn’t worry about me cracking
And harming you with my splinters
I need you alive to come see me again tomorrow]
But you look like you could use a breast-reduction surgery
I get that you are trying to appear confident and collected
Believe me I know all too well about standing straight and tall
It’s just that you look too puffy
Like the centre of the universe
You are so vain one could see right through your chest wall
To the real intent and content of your heart
Hard to hide a heart so outstanding like yours
Sadly, few people could take their eyes off your awesome lips
To gaze lower down into your soul-pit

I should apologize I can’t exactly capture your heart
So clearly through your vanity
It is so grey
Muddled up with conflicts
Though fairy tales advise one to follow one’s heart
Well, thanks to what-I-do-not-know-since-I-never-leave-your-room
Your heart is lost in the greys
You can’t quite tell right from wrong
You call insane and warped cool
Your heart is the shape of a horseman riding the high seas
Gone gagaciously completely offshore
And you love the way you ride just like that
Your head stuck up your horse’s arse
(Caution: I discourage swear words!)

Oh your striking owl-eyes
Sharp and discerning
Your dewy-lewy eyes
Warm and mesmerising
I have heard you humans say
The eyes are a window to the soul
But your eyes mimic me
Hence my favourite body part
Your eyes reflect people’s souls
You see into them
And play the ball in their courts
It doesn’t help that you are into body language reading
To regular folks, you are regular
To the smarty pants,
You act totally regular and vulnerable
Not even showing signs you know their game
Your cover is good
And you don’t make a show of yourself
You prefer hiding under your skin
Well, that’s the fitting place anyway.
No wonder you hate me
Your mirror
Because whenever you look at me
You feel exposed
Not for the darkness in your soul
For you are not shamed of that
You are just averse to being exposed!

17 responses to “WHY I DON’T USE MY MIRROR

  1. I am glad Doc that you are back and delving into your unstable side. Breast reduction surgery indeed. And swearing no less. Well, Conrad postulated that darkness lurks in us all, not matter our good intentions, and that we are in reality on a boat going up the river. Never get off the boat, Doc. Never get off the boat. You can dangle your feet in the river (beware the crocodiles), but never go in for a swim and don’t ever let your feet touch dry land.

    I think you should write on this more. I feel it well enough from halfway across the world.

    • Thanks much, Trent.
      Ha! The Conrad story. We discussed it once, you and I, on this virtual platform. Well, how do we know there are wanton crocodiles if we don’t put out our feet and defy even those rules? Not to worry, we are well aware we shall be fully responsible for whatever consequences follow. We won’t blame anyone else -human or spirit -for the misfortune we bring upon ourselves.
      And I totally agree(d) with the darkness lurking in the natural man.

      Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you. Sometimes, I can’t do what I want the way I want my followers to enjoy it. Apparently, I am not as artistic as the protagonist of my piece above was with reaching into men’s souls.
      Thanks again, Sir Trent.

  2. Shards Of DuBois

    wow Doc, I’d say your completely over the writers block. I truly blame the media for this constant battery of “you should look this way or that way” crap that only distances people who don’t look that way, makes em all insecure and soo depressed and sad. just ruins good kind people when they fall into this nonstop crap. and SO many suicides over not fitting in these days, and young kids have to idea looks only last a short time, before they’re all gone, they can’t see that far into the future. super good poem tho, really liked this one. 🙂
    (hope you don’t consider ‘crap’ a swear word) lol I laughed at the breast reduction thing, my oldest son went on another yaght cruise this year with some old friends, and one new one, who had just had a big old bunch of jelly inserted that just looked like two huge beach balls, and so not attractive, and my son loves em big…lol anyway, she was so concerned with her looks that the entire group was sick of her by day 2, and all got together to point out to her, that she seemed nice to begin with, but “really, get real, we could care less” was how they put it to her, and within in hours, she was relaxing and having fun, and told them all a few days later, “thank you so much” for making her realize they wanted to get to know her, and hang with her, not her boobs!!!! lmao

    • Hello Shardy.
      The issue of looks is one discussion we may not end so easily though we may agree with each other on the probably inexhaustible factors related. Media is sure a major stakeholder in the matter. Others include low self-esteem, mob psychology effect, and the wish for sexual desirability.
      And quite a funny story. Hehehehehe.

  3. Interesting dialogue. Good to hear from you, my friend. = )

  4. Wow… that was like casting those owl eyes onto every dark corner of our souls… awesome…

Even the most absurd thoughts can't ruffle this Enchanted Writer. Spill, please...

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