Little girl picks up the chalk
Writes her heart
Draws her mind
Cries it all away
Before they can see

Is your body,
Never leaves you,
So first and foremost take care of it.
29/10/2020

On a distant planet,
The cold wind is seething, unmatched,
Breaking the barriers of the azur beauty,
And eventually the barries of sound itself,
As it rages on, without ceasing.

~ Umi

In the distance a noise stirs my thoughts
Dawn is making her way
Preceding her sun
Teasing the dark
Look at it run

bathe in pools
of darkling light

reflected above
fish below

suckling

to walk the wood on moss
to skirt the meadow for fear

of spoiling
things

care for small things

to be tired after it all
to sleep soundly

carelessly

the day yesterday

seeing you stumble
makes me mumble
some words you will remember
not just because you are sober
i could see some spot
on either of your cheek
i could totally kiss
i bet you miss
i think i do too
i think i feel too
let's wait and see
i'll let you be


xo

All my balloon
Rise so high
For finding their cloud
In this vast sky.
I admire the scene
With contented eyes
Seeing my balloons
Floating in sky

Maybe,
Ages later
When they reached there
They say it with sigh
That it was me
Who filled air inside
And brought them here
Releasing  thread of their
To let them fly.

For now,
With a smile
I say Goodbye
For I have more balloons
Waiting to fly.

i think i'm lucky that it was you
i didn't know what it was for you but it meant a lot to me
and you were kind
you were kind
and i loved you that night
i loved you so much i cried in your arms

I write poetry just to feel free
I heart poetry just to exposed the hidden colors to my personality
I sit on trees to see life from a different height so I can write about reality
A deluded perspective not seen from ordinary lenses but words that the illiterate will tease
A hidden beauty exposed in rhymes, a sweet nectar unlike bees
Meaning less words that seem deep, words of love blown by the breeze
Into the heart of the reader, a beauty not found in the beholder
But lies that only seem true to the writer
Untrue tales sweetly composed and blended together
Adding emotion to what truly does not matter

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

I want to drown in a pool of the words you said, so they can fill me up one more time.

if yesterday
decides my tomorrow
i am nothing but a ghost

Not of ancient lore,
or some cross to bear.
But here. But now.
No Prince Charming
at the castle door.
Only her, Miss Damsel herself.
In some paper city,
called Zilch,
where things fall apart fast.
She's trapped in no tower,
but a loft instead.
With tin-foil crown,
she climbs across
the kitchen table
to slay the dragon,
in the flames
of his own black-hearted
bedevilment.
A dagger to the heart
of the matter,
and all is quiet again.
Then with a satisfied yawn,
she retires for her afternoon nap.

I don’t have time to breathe.
I feel my heart beating between my teeth.
It’s beating...
It’s beating...
It’s beating...
Until I can feel no longer.
Water is slowly rising above my head.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

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.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

She was stuck
in endless cycles
it seemed to her
more harm than good
to be a girl
in this world

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

My fangs grew overnight
And when I tried to hide my smile
It poked my lower lip
From it, a bit of blood dripped,
It tasted sweet.

I walked over arched bridges at night
The ones, that mold around the moon light,
My fangs were longing for a match
To graze your lips, your mouth to touch.
On you, to latch.

The knock woke me from my deep sleep,
I heard some kids say trick or treat,
I realized it's Halloween!
I gathered candy from under my couch
I didn't need my plastic fangs
I had my own and the costume matched.

1...
What a wonderful world it is,
coz when it's beautiful,
it has your legs on my shoulders.

#2...(Sacred acts):
The thickness of his blood all up in her waters.

#3...(Description of a 69):
As he burnt her midnight oils,
and she on the other hand,
gagging over his spilt milk.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

some                   I
     say                     call
           it's                   It        
                poetry.          oxygen.


I write, therefore I am.