I thicken my fingers
Tipping and spreading words
Strong and powerful,
My fingers reflect my activities
Our my priorities.
Communication passes through the fingers,
words acquire value,
A few can still listen.
I thrive for communication,
Yet i fear the overdose.
Attacks from messages,
instant and always urgent,
Are invading my time.
Emails respect boundaries
And leave the time to you
When they are distilled as drops
And no river breaks the boundaries.
Three tiny suspension points
Keep me hanging from a finger
From my desk.
The text was succint
and the short sentence closed
By a point
But i cannot find the real meaning
That those carefully chosen words
I pass you the message
My mind everyday hopes for
In a meeting with coded words
And flying smiles.
A shared vision for the lab
And for the proteins
Become dotted and our poor ideas
Cannot overlap today.
My thoughts travel like envelopes
From my mind through my arms
To the tips of fingers.
I read them out loud,
As only felt words can be,
And they cross the dimension of time
And travel into space
From this grey chair of willingness.
Communication is a word understood
Buy all but always in a personal way.
I thrive for communicating smartly
And you lose yourself in intro and acknowledgments,
Slowly building distance and disrespect.
The air gets dense
and the faces tense in masked attention.
Small icons summarize my feelings
In strings of text
My complex emotions
are condensed in a single character
In an instant
While the time spent to process them
Becomes the real value.
You tell me to move on
Not to ruin the image of your reality.
I will step out
But my opinions are sacred,
Laid in a basket inside me,
And they will be written if not told.
Reality passes quietly and silent
and I needed time to give a name
to all the happenings.
I hate labels but they give the right words
to tell the story
I do not want to forget.
Scatter on the paper
Those ideas and thoughts
that kept you awake.
Poke your inner child
and put them in graphics
With simple lines and basic colours.
A sentence of seven parts
Can delineate your message.
What makes you great
might have a dark face
And a spicy story to tell.
All proud speakers
Hide an actor and a drawer of doubts.
My drawer will be emptied soon
Hiding words, arms and paper
And my shoulders will rise
Free to move and energetic like a bird in spring.
I am swimming in your words
Though they come through a chord
From far far away.
The flow of information
Is no Caribbean sea that lulls me
And sustain my body.
I am drowning in your sentences
And only imagination
Lets the time pass with no effort or mark.
You opened the valve
With discretion and assertiveness
and your opinions were released and
Like a laser rainbow crossed the meeting room.
Everybody heard the reality you revealed
And agreed with their faces
Yet nobody picked the comment up
And your reality was dismissed.
Communication appears essential
When what you research daily
and has a shine for your eyes
No other people can see.
Selecting the words is the job
And depicting them in images
You will fill the white pages
With memories and sensations
Others live on holidays
And you feel in the lab
When nobody is watching
And your results emerge.
Does not reflect in your life outside the lab.
Topics of research are specific peculiar issues
Of almost no importance to those who cross your way
Or share your restaurant.
Telling life a tale your work to a fresh new ear
Brightens up your spirit of young scholar
And reactivates your brain from its winter sleep.
Spot the top taste,
Divide the deluding dichotomies,
To tell a tale of lucid technology.
Welcome the reader, put your tools on the table,
and paint your discoveries with only straight lines and rigid angles.
They will read it, they will reason it,
It will happen.