the waiting in hallways
lined up on the wall
with eyes following the chatterbox and her
flowing train of rabid listeners
who hang themselves ritualisticly on her
shallow water illustrations
swimming on this thin tide of unpublished lip candy
her bubblegum words are commentary
upon which her followers build temples
to the unfit mothers of televangelists
the chatterbox spills her loud thoughts
on the sun warmed concrete
as the summer lawnmower navigates
around santa and his late december reindeer
and the children's labyrinth of christams morning plans
while i sunbath nearby
she gathers her spilled thoughts
and races away proudly proclaiming that'
my poems are too short for the pulitzer
so she is ready for her laurels
and a fast road to academia
with a neatly packaged version of her inner perversions
spread like sex and lip candy
on the local coffee shop bookshelf's
for the pretty college girl with glasses to drink from
Today, I can stop writing.
Yes, she took me back. Yes, I am all hers again. And she's all mine. :)
This letter will be a renewal of my promises. That I will commit the rest of my lifetime to prove to her that I have changed; that I have become a better person for myself, for her and for us. That we will not go through the same pain we did because of my previous mistakes; that she will never get hurt for the same reasons all over again... Better yet, I promise that I would do everything so that she will never get hurt. I may not be able to promise that we will never face any hardships, trials or challenges, but I can promise that we will face them together... and that we will hurdle and triumph through them hand in hand and come out stronger. I promise that we will always be transparent to each other, airing out our feelings, emotions, fears, joys and everything else in between... For we want every detail of our stories to be shared to one another. I promise to always be by her side; sometimes we may not be physically together but in my own ways, and in the best ways I can think of, she will never feel alone. I promise to be my very best for her, to always be inspired in everything I do because of her. I promise that both of us will be able to do what we want or we love, without judgments or restrictions... For I will respect and accept every detail and part of her. Yes, we may talk over things and compromise, but changes done in our lives will never be a sacrifice but rather a choice - that I choose to do or not to do something because she is more important and that she is valued more than my wants. I promise that we will both explore our greatest potentials, and that I will be her best ever supporter - that whatever career path or life decisions she may have, I am with her 100%. I promise to keep our imagined black, white and red themed house clean and orderly (once we finally afford and invest on one) because I know she wants it that way. I promise to always be beside her when she needs me, or be out of her sight if she needs her alone time or space... For real love is not just about the number of hours or days being physically beside each other, but rather, about every second that our heart beats in sync for each other wherever we may be.
And my list could go on and on... And maybe I won't be stopping writing for her. Because everyday, words spill out of my heart out of awe and happiness that yes, she has taken me back.
And I am never messing up this time.
Thank you, Anne. You will always be loved. :)
Yours, for the rest of your lifetime,
a mockery of my heart.
And my head now a fog,
from the rose colored glasses
that you placed on my face
glued to my sight
I know no truth
and I beg,
beg to know why.
Why did you even bother
my foolish misguided heart.
You're better than that.
A soulmate is rare
you are blind
to red devilish pain
that will engulf your heart.
You are now
one whom I couldn't wish I never met.
For you destroyed me
with your apathy,
lack of thought.
I cry I hurt,
I scream your name.
nothing but a silent ear;
You're better than that.
When you are broken
and on the ground,
screaming for the truth;
I will meet you there.
Reality captured in
these sullen eyes
that encompass the passing
Days of time, like petals on a flower.
Whittled people pass
through the assembly lines
one after another, whispering
sweet words about that green angel,
only but a devil in a papery disguise.
Those magical moments of suspense
and mystery, deconstructed into
the sciences of this world.
Life has not flavor anymore.
Perhaps the smoke that
ascends from your tiring joint
will imbibe these days
with a little wonder.
But once those molecules
lose their smoke curled smiles,
life turns back to grey.
saturates these dull days.
World peace is on the verge of now,
but what about the most important peace: that of the soul.
Some eyes have turned backwards,
but all need to see the escape.
Society is a masochist
that emanates fear,
and we conform to it.
Change comes at the disillusionment
of eternity. Love is synonymous
with melancholia. Or insanity.
But us poets play with words
to keep ourselves insane
because we discovered that
poetry kills the pain
I want to fix myself
Gather up the pieces
Work it all out
And solve my problems
Catch these butterflies
And control them
Stand up and face
These fears that constrain me
Ground the nervous shaking
Of this vessel of mine
Cut out the helplessness
And tattoo over the past
Mistakes and regrets
Faults and wrong intents
I've admitted and been shamed
But learnt lessons all the same
No one will ever forget
And forgiveness takes time
So I fell and scarred
My mind and conscious
I want peace
I want a brand new start
To run away and be
The person I aspire in my heart
I fell behind on life
Chasing society as it passed me by
Career and money
Trying to keep up, keep face
Someone else kicked me down
And held my fate in their hands
I needed that job so bad
My desperation was the motivation
The reference never got written
And I never got the chance
I need peace
I want freedom
I chase the life of content
To have no guilt or worries
I got lost
Still stuck finding the way
And a little part of me
Gives up everyday
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to kill
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet, over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.