pretty when you're choked
thighs crying the next morning
no complain, just bliss.

she was a box of
cigarettes, waiting to be lit
but would soon run out

of light, of time,
and of you

Am I just
writing what I feel,
Or am I
writing to feel?

warm hands fingerprinting crisp glass.
oscillating breaths -
between clear and opaque.
a calming condensation.
an understanding of balance.

It's a quiet
fair February morning
a few early flowers
are blooming
Snowdrops and Crocuses
are out
Spring will be here soon

“If it's meant to be it will be”
People say to me
I don't know why now
but I’ll see things
In a different perspective
somehow
in the future
When I am older.

when something real happens
everything fake no longer matters.

I sink inside myself
each poem, a desperate breath
swallowed by cold water
but the bubbles look so pretty as they rise from my mouth
towards a surface I cannot break through

Grant a generous spirit
a light touch

quick to laugh
at oneself

to be freedoms child
always

to impart freedoms gifts
freely...


Amen. (so be it)

Half way to December
Brings mem’ries of the past
Of joyous Christmas mornings
New mem’ries that will last

Forever on the highway
To good times filled with cheer
And happy ever after
Renown throughout the year

Tomorrow brings new sunshine
And golden rays galore
To bring a new beginning
With New Year’s Day restore

The fervor now remembered
With toasts of pure egg nog
The entries of tomorrow
Remain on life’s new blog

2/21/19

www.brucelevine.com

I wish to exist.
A ghost, in this world.
But I cannot leave.

I wish to exist- to be on the list,
where everyone is.

Please, I beg you.
I only wish to exist.

There's a hole in my heart

A void in my mind

A deep desire for nothing but want

A need for something like fun

Adventure and thrills

Seekers and pills

Falling into a blackness

So dark I'm turning blue

Such stark it's only true

Helpless and innocent

Forgiving and iridescent

I bond with strangers

Act bold, I'm not the tamest

I am stuck, so stuck

I don't know how to get out of here

This place, this room, this hide

This mask, this facade,

This glass, this wall, this broken bridge

It is all burning up into flames

Watch it, sink

Down it goes deep into

Black Waters

- soulwriterj

You and your sweet, sweet lies,

I'll miss your bitter taste.

Everything had a price,

Put your hands on my waist.

  

You and your sweet, sweet smile.

Both' your hands in my hair.

You were so versatile,

Loved you like a nightmare



We cannot be appart,

I never asked you for much,

Yet you keep breaking my heart.

All I ever wanted was your touch.

Hidden Scars
                   and lines
            create
                      immortality
             A mirage of
                      Beauty
                 replacing
             Ethereal Glory
                         Our
                                Children's homes
                                         lost
                  their souls'
                                    birthplace
                 ­            gone

I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.

i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.

you remind me that there are no monsters under my bed, no voices in my head and nothing that can ever harm me,
when I’m with you.

Tragedy isn't even very tragic anymore

Wala nang lumalabas na salita
Di na ako makagawa ng tula
Pinipilit basahin ang sarili
Ngunit walang tugmang mapili

Alam kong dapat walang ganito
Pagpiga ng damdamin para sayo
Diba dapat natural lang daw
At hindi magtutunog mababaw

Pero mahal bakit ganito
Bakit biglaan na lang huminto
Dahil ba nabasag ang ideyalismo
Mga makalumang aspirasyon ko

Pero mahal wag kang mag-alala
Mabubuo ko tong aking talata
Katulad ng Pag-ibig ko sayo
Gumulo lang isip hindi ang puso

Di ito hihinto tumibok para sayo
Nandito lang ako lagi para sayo
Ako nang sasalo sayo mahal
Pipiliting maging sagot sayong dasal

Mamahalin kita ng buong buo
Hinding hindi magkukulang sayo
Kaya tatapusin ko tong sulat ko
Pero hinding hindi ang pagmamahal sayo

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

In a room full of cowards
You still had the gall
To eat the heart of a snake
And dress like one too

the count starts now (tired of tired)


I read your outcry at 3:00am
posted on Facebook

you are
tired of tired
sick of sick
the only question, will it ever end...

rise this day,  start another way...

count your blessing
count against all odds
for there are more than merely one

use both hands
both hands chested to feel the heart thrusting,
for living is a wondrous blessing unique
an unbelievable to believe than so many beats,
born and borne,
by you, a strength unequaled,
you a richness possessed

count that one first.
count my hands holding your shoulders.
count that as two, one for me, one for you.

more? more.  

mirror.  find the tiny light in each eye against a yellow backdrop.

add two more. for they are a sparking confidence of confirming.

you felt the heart thrumming
go back, feel the breathing warmth breaching forth.
add another. for now known you can never ever be cold.

wash the face, wash away the caution that sleep leaves,
the coverlet of fear that fears you not to dare,
amazing that tap water plain is sacred when it
miracle breaks you out and anoints thy forehead with pure oil like the kings of yore, be a kingly human being.

go out. do not return
until one act of kind is performed and
count that as a thousand blessed, a sum recurring recounted

walk humble and the path will always appear.
walk contented for you can be both king and servant,
there is no difference - you must be both to be the other
one.

and if you still cannot raise the head,
call me.
that would be a blessing for me
and I will hear your blessings sounds mine merge,
dear friend and no more stranger,
that is the simplest definition of our learning to count to
infinity

I wonder about this a lot.

what if we met a month later?
what if you were ready?
what if something else hadn't just ended?

what if
what if
what if

I guess what they say is true. . .

timing really is everything.

Roses are blue
Violets are red
You are dead

You’re as limp as a wet stocking
yet as frigid as a dry latex glove.
Deflated,
with the sculpted face of Dionysus.
I could frame that face
and hang you from my garden wall.
I will bring the rope,
but have you tie the knot.
I will admire you from beneath every archway.
I will sign my name below,
like I sign my own face
after the lipstick goes on.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

It takes a year,
for the pain to leave my veins,
for the memories of you to fade,
for the cuts in my soul to heal,
for rhythm of my heart to change when I’m around you,
to forget your touch on my mind,
to forgive the universe for meeting you,
to live life like you and me had never happened.

silk webs surround her heart
that was left unused for years
daggers and swords surround my heart
and my wrists
and my thighs
and my lips
used, used, used again.

I’m
       Falling
                     Down
                                  A
                                       Staircase
                                                        With
                                                                  No
                                                    Chance
                                             Of
                            Getting  
                    Up
Everything
                     Disintegrates
                                               I
                                                   Destroy
                                                                  Anything
                                                                                    I
                                                                       Touch

My body aches
My mind awake
My heart saddened
My soul stained