Tittle: A~Cro..ba~ics____ by Dayanna Daydream

 

Tittle: A~Cro..ba~ics____

Acrobatics...  what I practice. High I bat performing my art which is synchronized slow... and detailed like an etch -n-sketch. Difficult feats of balance, agility and full body ability emerge while I push forth expressing thoughts, emotions, experiences, repeating overlaps, walking the tight rope, but this was not learned in a circus.  Oh friend,this comes from what-chu-ma-call-it.... experiences? Tears! A broken heart wanting to be mended, hands caressing tenderly a waist which wasn't mine and hopes for a fairy-tale to tell were all screaming out... "Please let me be!" Awh I tell you, those are some tumbling practices! They take place in our discovery, fights, tears, past and such events aren't choreographed.  Bouncing on a trampoline, aint nothing like the first time. Damm does it hurt but damm does get better! I rather tower dive into my soul, pole climb right into my emotions and  board spring all of me right into him. I'm learning not to be afraid to swing , twist, rip, write, bite, move, shove , erase, re -write all that I deserve and trust me Is no damm cow manure. This art of bringing back the death with a kiss, making spinal cords bend and healing from the inside out was made for hearts in progress. They might call them... helpless romantics, dreamers, fools. I like the terminology because after all, we are a dying breed and yet not afraid to fly out of the safety cocoon. The unusual form of physical display may be rough for some gymnast, but I leap from my trapeze. Yeah, It is my pedestal board and my heart creates the fascinating swing admired by others. You know the ones who call us dreamers, crazy, delusional.  If they only knew that at it’s best the adrenalin rush goes deeper than Egyptian sheets, past unworthy lovers, Shakespearean poems and it magically floats making the eyes of the most cynic dazzle. I'm branded with love; I’m a slave to his symptoms. I have found ways to create tongue twisters while making love to him… call that talent. My vocal cords splatter verses over walls giving birth to what was once considered dead, divine sensations rape the consciousness, happy tears easily wash of the sweat and I have not yet reached the perfect score of 10. Oh i'm how many ways is God called. You see even those who don’t call themselves gymnast are now working out their eyes, feeling the anticipation rise while  following my words. Congrats! you are now taking a small leap. I'm sure you didn’t even know. This is a matter of the heart. Yes, it is a difficult feat of balance which comes from a what-chu-ma-call-it... which is no cow manure, the physical display may be rough for some but nothing compares. Such events aren't choreographed; they take place in our discovery, fights, and tears. Damm does it hurt but damm does get better. Therefore, perhaps, you might call it ...acrobatics.  

 

 Dayanna "Daydream" Carrion

July 2007

 

Acrobatic Tumbling : From Rolls to Handsprings and Somersaults