MrMary’s Day Job || MrMary’s Writings
“Graduate Course Instructor / Scientific Researcher “
I have a entire book of poems sitting there waiting for me to finish them. I almost have an interesting book based on interviews I did in 2011-2012, and I have half a novel all sitting there on my desk gathering dusk. Luckily I am moving from this place and will be in a new apartment where I have my own space and time to finally devote to publishing. I will be able to make more videos. Ultimately the many aspects of my life that’s are currently on hold wont be any more. This collection is like a Monelle in a way by Marcel Schwob. I wont get into that too much. My mentor in writing, in particular writing poetry told me that poetry is a private ecstasy made public. There are many aspects to MrMary not all of them I like to share except with a small handful of people. But I felt You have been with me in a way sorta for 930 posts, which means we are in a relationship we have already gone balls-deep, uhm inside our respect opinions personalities and mind. So yeah that’s it
Foundations of an Imaginary Separation
The sun’s hanging high in the sky and everyone
feels the warmth of that statement, even we who
walk in the shadows of skyscrapers; man’s impuissance
in front of Nature is a terrible and dear commodity.
It’s the missing element in the story of Eden. Having crafted
feebleness into our hands could we really have been
kicked out of that closeness? Eden is here now sitting with us
but like the sun, we cut ourselves off from the sight of its
majesty in the distance, having built this world on the foundation
of an imaginary separation
Locked out of Living
to the laughter of children
outside my window, hoping to find
the hidden source of their infectious mirth.
walking through the listless spaces
of that memory, I saw it was an acorn
crushed underfoot that gave life to their laughter.
Not every seed finds its way into the earth
some get planted in the terrain of our heart giving our
laughter a tangible origin, shading our slumbering
from the rays of meaninglessness
Eternal Meetings in Somnolence
I’ve spent so much time alone,
I shake this page into vastness of the night air
releasing its treasure of words, into the thick clouds
fall into the fertile soil
of your dreams, while others
falling on your roof lull you into a deeper
sleep with that gentle pitter-patter you know so well.
as your eyes have long
reached the end of this page, the sound
of my familiar voice endures.
If I ‘bettered’ myself you
wouldn’t be able to love
me so I talk dirty to you
at the dinner table with
family around Your face
gets red You besiege me
with jabs never too much
and never too hard .
You’ve gotta hit me, You
have to look back at all
our fights out in public
to remind you of how
you can’t love anyone
with no flaws. Flaws
fashions fallible Gods
out of us dry clayfolks
If perfection were real
if it were possible we’d
give ourselves to Life to
whittle us down further
to become better people.
But there already mobs
of these better,cancerous
people grudgingly over_
seeing the pious churches
the drab colorless offices,
and the tense silent diners
of the world so much that
cemeteries have spaces
for only the most mediocre
Jessica with one “S”
I miss the day when racism was more overt
not for my sake but for my co-worker who
dives into her bag desperately digging for
a some random item clearly, decidedly lost
whenever I approach her on the subway.
It’s not entirely her fault with her prominent
Scottish last name, anemically pale skin and
her Argentinian Nationality. At most she is
about 2-3 generations removed Europe’s
last ritual blood-letting that littered the
teeming shores of a ‘New World’ with wave
after wave of what must be superior quality
human flotsam, Europe’s wretched refuse.
I miss the day when racism was more overt not
for my sake but for her sake. She’d sit perhaps
in another train car. She’d have much less to
worry about especially seeing how Jessica
with one ‘S’ leaves the job long before the
janitors arrive to polish the linoleum-white floors.
The Promise of Eternal Sight
We’re so enthralled by beach scenes, especially
the crashing waves that seem to be the only
reminders of the untamed World that waits
for us, just outside our city’s invisible walls.
Yet for all its beauty, we fail to see that
energy animating it, giving it winged sandals
to walk across the face of the sea.
The solution isn’t to extend the power and depth
of our vision with the many cantankerous machinations
we hoist into orbit around the dense sphere of our human
concepts. Rather let’s close our eyes to the moving scenes
of this somnolence, let’s be drawn by the enduring voice
that while animating this dream, tells us also of our life
beyond human shortsightedness and reckoning in an internal
act of seeing.
That Invisible Calligraphy
I gave my pen over to sorrow
so that her tears could live again
as words, so that history could be reborn
From the tale she spun
I saw again scenes of my youth,
Saw how she put bitterness into the milk
so that I no longer went for the bottle.
She was my first taste of beauty
as a nursing infant, and the first woman
to entertain my delusions.
Since she has written every moment
from between the spaces of my personal histories
why not open all these pages to her,
maybe then I will see the faint
outline of that hand, from which an invisible calligraphy
comes binding us all to the vicissitudes of Being.
- Marcel Schwob: a Man of the Future (3ammagazine.com)
- MrMary On Blogging: What Would You Do if Your Blog Got Famous ? (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)
- MrMary’s Take on Poetry Writing Month: Day 2 (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)
- MrMary’s Take on Poetry Writing Month: Day 1: Turtle Necks and Words (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)
- Greatest moments in Blogging History Part 3 – MrMary Models & rises above Mortality (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)
- MrMary on Blogging: How Much of ‘You’ is in your Writing/Blogging/Art? (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)
- MrMary Reads: Masquerades disclose the reality of souls (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)
- MrMary & Stendhal on Love: Will He or She love you with passion ? (aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com)