1. fergusandthedruid · April 5, 2014

    It’s funny how one’s short post can trigger a shot of just a few words that blows memories from the back of another’s mind to the forefront of their thoughts. Thought #5 was loaded, and now this allegory poem from September 30, 2013 has spilled out from the private post it was forgotten in, all over this carpet… what a bloody mess… 😛

    “Two of a Kind Headtrips”
    by Ry Hakari

    Apenines adventures of our lives in our minds
    Across the peninsula, our whereabouts thought
    Somewhere outside of Manilla, not Vienna, our
    Miraculous maneuvers in metaphoric manacles
    Identities bourne of boredom, forged in mystery
    Waiting ‘til times change our need for restraint
    And we can become what we all meant us to be
    Before I was I and you were you, as we are both
    Currently older and more matured Manchurians,
    Candidates for conspiracies, inspires of intrigue
    Magnetic personalities, we attract each other most
    I am the mentalist of mentalists, you trained me
    Under the spell of your love and mystery and I
    Was the key for unlocking your motivation to be
    The stroke of genius you are at adapting all adept
    Fingers you have for learning skills of curiosities
    For safe-cracking my mind, unlocking me, me, you
    You are a headtrip, you take me round the world
    Without having to leave the room, and I am too
    I take you with me, in my heart everywhere and
    People can’t figure us out, because we aren’t ever
    The same, we are each other’s art, our influence
    Is always changing us like waters, I’m all rivers
    And you’re all seas, and we’re everywhere and
    We’re nowhere to be found, we’re apart and yet
    We’re so close we’re touching each other’s souls

    Apenines adventures of ninety-nine life sentences
    Scrawled on mountains, stripes across a peninsula,
    With tallies, defying predictions of risk, we bide
    Our time while somewhere way outside of Manilla,
    Not Vienna, the detectives and other antagonists
    Fail to grasp a love like ours can’t be matched–
    Which came first the chicken or the egg they ask
    But the answer is either scrambled, or over-easy
    Their heads, while we flow underneath the radar
    Right before their eyes, seen but not, and maybe
    I am a seer, and maybe I am career shape-shifter
    That deerhead mounted on the plaque, maybe like
    A fly on the wall, but even less suspected, and if
    You check it maybe you’ll find a tap, and water
    Flowing away like wires, or maybe I pull it all
    Out of my ass, and my crap is magic, or maybe
    Well, I could give a thousand theories, because
    I could bleed a nation of conspiracies, but no need
    Miraculous maneuvers in metaphoric manacles
    Are quite enough for my bided time before we
    Fall some other season, in some foreign country
    On a shore-line, our hundredth life, and our first
    Outside of dreams, under trees in a bed of leaves
    The Hunt for Red October finally over, like a play
    With pretend CIA analyst Jack Ryan winning again
    But with the dream ending, waking up from our
    Sleeper cells, separate bedrooms, together at last
    As Mrs. and Mr. Reese, each our person of interest

    • anumshafique · April 6, 2014

      Thank you so much Ry, for sharing such a beautiful poem and such an intriguing story with me and my readers. 🙂

      • fergusandthedruid · April 6, 2014

        You’re welcome, and thank you for the kind compliment 🙂

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