Kraken poetry

We do not eat the Kraken

All that water looking ironclad

Steely grey against the lightning storm above

Only movement 

our chests as we breathe

Not a wind but for the air we let out

It's unsettling this mirroresque sea against 

the raging of skies so high above we 

can only see the flashes in the loom,

Hardly a boom reaches us

The slow flattened surface disfiguring that half crested moon

reminding us of a golden octopus we once tried to eat in Greece

Arms contorted

Now white against the black płate it had been thrown onto

Menacing it looked

Blaming

I remember thinking that had this creature been the size of a house 

it would be exactly what I imagined the Kraken to be

I have a soft spot for the Kraken 

Naturally, we didn't actually eat it

One doesn't eat magical creatures

Monsters or not, they deserve respect. 

And time

We eat our words, our hearts, our pride. 

But not the Kraken

#sussithepoet

#bluemind

 

 

The Humans Who Inspire Me: Tjasa Owen

www.tjasaowen.com

An American seascape painter who continuously inspire me by playing with my colours

ok, not MY colours, but the colours that vibrationally signify my true self

Maybe yours too?

Anyways, I do not know how, but in a previous life I think Tjasa might have been my favourite muse, an angel in disguise, possibly a mermaid sister

and

Every

Single

Day

I feel seen when I look at her paintings.

It is a really beautiful thing, feeling seen.

Invisibility was always a theme of mine growing up. 

Double-edged sword kindafink

wanting desperately to achieve that perfect level of clear water blend-in-ness

cherishing the ability to disappear

but also hungering, starving to be seen. 

Really seen

As the person I was. 

I had a strong sense of self even as a child

and I knew I was not truly seen.

Loved, but not for who I really was. Does that make sense?

Anyways, what happens sometimes, 

when I see certain constellations of colours, like the ones Tjasa use,  

is that a song forms in my head

a seashanty-like wave of nodes and words kissing my synaesthesia brain

like the painting above did:

'Sea Grit'