It is time that moves, but I am motionless for you, Jashmina!: A poem 

Could I have eternally believed that I could possess you 

through a dignified resilience? Can patience be as copiously  

annexing as violence? That I should dream that the lessons you teach me, 

sustain me and help me breath equanimously in the overwhelmingly expansive  

dark cavern of my reality whose alleys are chaotically stretched  

in a bumper-to-bumper of cross-purposes and contradictions, and  

propositions and intimidations. And should I be honking away in the 

jammed conundrum of hope in the long-drawn bondage where 

the only green signal of redemption, apparent, is in the hands of the tormentors 

who committed crimes repeatedly against me? So, I am better off with my blinkers on? 

The tireless cigarette-puffing to blow out smoke rings at the postures, that want to  

carve their posterity out of my helpless, vulnerable but potent miraculousness!  

Should I endeavour to give those fat, smirking pretentious and bewitching Gentiles the  

rough-edge of my elbow. I don’t even want the Sharia or Koran to be my Book of Death. 

There are no bequeathals that I want to hand over with the blue riband of options (to me) that are actually envelopes containing anthrax to my soul! 

And should I be red-herringed by you all to leave my miscued blazonry to the future (to be bedecked in evil)  

I don’t want life to be as easy as Alladin’s. Even Open Sesame is not part of my magic vocabulary! 

You’d think they (the evil prospectors) would vanish like the Djinn of Arabia, when you commanded them to! 

But no, I am residing in an apartment, where the debtors (due to their crimes upon me) 

keep relentlessly figuratively knocking at my doors and even on my second-storeyed  

windows, that I should have those zombies take my soul. Have I to keep 

believing in you, Jashmina, to only have an aspiration supplanted by bodygrabbers? I don’t  

want to be red-arsed (I don’t mean Gemini, please) into evil’s slavery even with all those bountiful gifts 

beseeching me, but apparently to me, at my soul’s Last Supper. Even the Anunnaki vanished from the earth; 

Would their evil ghosts be still around possessing my detractors in their eagerness 

to drag me into a sodomy against my volition? I am reposed of love, but I have a passive aggression  

that is stimulated by the obtuse aggression of others. Though I am not lex talionis,  

I might as well be tit for tat! And you must understand, Jashmina, my pain is eternally long drawn;  

and I have waited and waited. All the corridors of time reverberate with the resounding 

omnipresence of my patience. Have you ever wondered how I cast out desperation  

with every disappoinment I shed, just for you! Do you feel the ancientness of my soul 

and its antiquity that breathed you out of my love? And I tasted every delusion, 

fraudulence and deception from you (compelled out of you by those who blackmailed you) in the insanity and maverickness of  

my undying love for you!  Remember, I can also cause much collateral damage!

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

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