I closed my eyes and woke a tick past seven.
Awake, I slipped into my favorite dream
where the wine dark sea called my name
in a sweet fine whisper, and where I
knew how to respond the theme.
You returned to me as I to you
after the water remembers the warmth of the shore.
Bountiful bouquets of sun blessed heavy arms
And nothing relieved my aching soul more.
In my slumber I swam through some beautiful seas.
Bathed in the nectarine skies and lilac showers,
I call your name from between the breeze-
Lay they silent my voice escaped suns closing setting lids.
Reminding me how you closed your eyes near me too,
and how my glory swimming in the arms of you
was just me dreaming dreams of blue (It was not true).
Fallen from my life,
this surreal specter
who tempered my heart
in words of love,
undressed my soul
with the eyes of an artist,
who beheld me in my totality.
The kisses before dawn,
in between dreams,
I'll miss those spots in the dark
where soft lips used
sonar for closed eyes,
and nude warm skin
which once begged us
to bed till noon
no longer clings.
How cold to sleep alone.
A solo light in a dark room
with her shadow still on the wall,
and an indentation in the bed
where I had pressed her down
to bite her neck,
our passion lingers.
Our love loiters in
the walls of my atria,
with every beat reminding
me of how our love
turned my blood into hot wine,
but now I drink our love alone
My blood toasting to the
shadow on the wall.
I want to write a poem,
but all I can think of
is the lyrics to love songs
that plague my mind
like little insects
I cannot quite make out.
I want to write a poem,
but all I can feel
is a long thorn piercing the place
where my heart use to be.
that there is nothing
in that barren cavity.
I want to write a poem
but all I can do
is sit at this desk
starring at the wall.
no matter what,
I cannot write a poem.
pretty purple bruises
cover my body
reminding me of you
how my body begs for your touch
Stillness surrounds me
in an empty room
I hear the drone
of endless traffic
carried by the wind,
reminding me it's
there's no time to
wallow in the mire.
For who has time
to read so early,
the words of millions
lying in the same boat,
just me and you and the others
that may be sinking.
"My birthday is in 5 days :3 I get excited like a kid ((:"
"You are like the sun light streaking through my window of life every morning, reminding me how blessed I am.... "
"My vocabulary linguistics can't fathom let alone transcend into expression the intense profound passion driven emotions I feel for you. It's called love, with a pinch of deep passion <3"
"The intensity of the feeling, the warmth in my stomach every time I say I love you, the passion of my heart ... It's like a very new and different, special feeling.. "
"I know you are smiling, you were smiling reading what I had to say and that's exactly how I know you look the most beautiful - smiling <3"
"I was at the hospital today, the doctor said I'd be fine. Don't ask for what or why, please."
"Best of luck........"
All the stuff you used to say to me. Everything.
I have them all imprinted on my mind,
in that secret corner that I dedicated as the space for you.
It's all there, everything.
From the first word you said to me,
till the last word.
They're all there, spinning around in my mind.
I woke up this morning with a tear stained face.
It seems like that's the only way I find myself
when I'm all alone or when I wake up these days,
With a tear stained face.
This morning, I washed away the tear stains and put on a big smile.
Pretended that I was okay. That nothing was bothering me.
What they say is true,
"the happiest of them are the ones who cry themselves to sleep."
You should talk to my pillow some time.
It'll tell you the truth.
That you're all I think about when I'm asleep.
You're always on my mind.
You've given me too much to remember, I can't forget you now.
It's too hard. I take this as punishment for letting you go.
9th December 2013 now.
At this exact moment, you're no longer 16.
15 more days, and I'll be as old as you were just 15 days before.
You're One year older than me.
I'm One year younger than you.
Wait for me to catch up please.
This race with time is driving me crazy now.
It's moving too fast.
I'm tripping too much.
I'm falling too hard.
It's getting harder to get up every day.
But I wont stop.
No matter what, I'll keep running.
'Cause I live with a hope that you'll come back some day.
They say you wont. That I'm being stupid. But deep in my heart,
I know you will come back. I really do.
Prove them wrong, my love. Come back.
And we'll knucklebump one more time and start off from right where we left,
Cause after you get here, nothing will be wrong again.
Till you get back, I'll just settle down by wishing you a very happy birthday [on here].
In a basement
There are nine people
-hands in pockets
-eyes on skies
-on the backs of eyelids reminding them their tries at ordinary, are lies nonetheless.
And I am the tenth.
I do not know where to put my hands,
so I cut them off.
And everyone else out.
And pay mind just to breath, teeth at a reality that is not ordinary.
And college kids getting fucked up
Is not a rebellion.
And college kids getting fucked
Is not substantial enough for a love poem.
But I'm still waiting on rebellions and love poems,
hoping I can be a part of either.
My fists are on the ground
beating on the corning
--every damn thing I say mumbled or ignored
--"that's me in the spotlight"
Puppets and puppies, both
strings and kicking at things
I've staggered off in my thoughts again
drunk rumbles through the trash
And you've staggered off in your mind again
I'm trailing far enough behind that
you don't think I'm following.
But the smears
Lost and Found in a World of Polarity
The wounds are deep
But as divine healers our mission is to treat
Negativity all around
From even those whose sacred mission is the same
Those Playing at the blind man’s game
Excusing themselves for pawns
Not understanding in life as in chess
You are the King
One step boldly
Conquering the pieces in the path
Death is the joker, rest assured of his last laugh
Smile warmly, for he sits upon your left
Fractals Fractals all around
What is big is small
Your quiet actions ring loud
in the cosmos’ heart
Reverberating onward out
One step boldly, all must start
Understanding the art of the self
You are the mountain
Summit your Self
The eye at the pyramid’s peak Stands for reason
Seeing all sides evenly
(Yet) We're all Jack and Jill
tumbling down the akashic hill
Lost In a polarized world
Sin is in
Our animal nature
Worn as a scar
Reminding us of the cost
To be who we are
Find The fire ever burning
Upon even your last breath
Part in parcel
Rising like the phoenix for your heart to soar
transcending time and space
All the stories nevermore
Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me. Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.
A girl of only twenty two caught herself on fire
We passed by her in the Outdoors section of a convenience store
She was staring at lamps and tents and asking which is a better conductor of heat
All she got back in response was that they heat up fast and that you have to be careful with tents because of their flammable material
She splurged on all of them
Her cart was full of tents and lamps and, from what we could see, propane and cleaning liquids
It was like God had jumped inside the cart himself and made his very own rainbow from a building that never saw rain, and the only shine it got was from the glowing of polished tiles from extra, bright ceiling lights
You asked where she was going camping
She told you somewhere no one should ever want to go
You got confused then and since you couldn't find anything else to say, you smiled and spit out that you liked her blouse
She didn't say thank you, only nodded and made her way for the checkout lane
while we proceeded to make our way for cake batter and orange juice with pulp
The next morning we woke up with an urge to turn on the news,
See what the latest sad stories were this week
and the stories were always incredibly sad, only reminding us that that's why the news isn't good for our already aching heads
But we couldn't shut it off because the one heading this morning's breakfast was of a girl camping who had had an extreme amount of flammables and matches, lamps, tents, the whole nine yards
The reporter, a handsome man with black eyes, told that investigators are marking it as a suicide
and that she'd left a note stating to give the blue blouse folded on the passenger seat
to the girl who said she liked it at the convenience store the day before
I was appalled,
You were smiling and reaching for the keys