Pineapple palms
And their flailing arms
Wafting the day
As if to say
Let your troubles
And your cares
Be swept away.

She changed my clothes
She changed my pose
She changed my hair
She changed my prayer
She changed me
Like iron to rust

But like other girls
She did the same

In this story
You are the medicine
Who Created mr.  Hyde

Sorry? To late
Jekyll taking his grave

La ménagerie à neuf vies
Flotte  dans la nuit bâtarde
Zébrée  de miaulements d'étoiles de gouttière.

C'est une nuit malotrue
Magnétique
Aux cent vingt-trois nuances de vert de gris
Qui tire sa langue subjonctive et indicative
Comme une révérence au vent voyou
Quand il a trop plu
Qu'elle est mouillée et que la lune Happée par la crème lumineuse
De son gardien de la paix
Lui accorde sa ration de danse ronronnante :
Ses vingt minutes réglementaires de visite cadencée.

"that's the irony of loneliness, you see. all of us feel it." said ma with tears in her eyes.
with that, she picked up her bags and walked out from the world she had spent more than twenty years to build for us to a world of her own.

Whatever you choose to do
I'd be happy for you
I'll be happy for you

His heart was cold,
but his eyes were emerald green.
The beauty behind danger
was heaven to me.
I should have known what he was capable of
my mother once told me to trust no one..
but i fell in love,
oh i fell in love
his eyes would shine brighter than the moon and sun
i know my ignorance gets the very best of me
but i fell in love with a bad man
and it was no one else's fault,
i just loved blindly...

Apparently
              when  you  treat
                  people like
               they  treat  you,
                        they
                   get  upset.

           People will provoke
                   you  until
                         they
                   bring  out
                your **** side.
                   Then  play
                       victim
                 when you go
                        there.

                   You need you,
                          more
                      than  you
                         need
                   them. Trust me.

                          Don't
                    blame people
                           for
               disappointing you.
                           Blame
            yourself for expecting
                        too much
                       from  them.
                                                                                             Jon York   2019

What you're discovering now
I've lived that years ago.
Things you thought were impossible
I've seen it a long time coming.
All that was, called crazy,
Now everything's plain stupidity!
Surrounded by futile mind,
Have I become one of them?
Or am I still crazy?

what's written
in red ink
lies pain
burried deep
enough to not
make a sound

See me?
-vast undisturbed classroom walls
Hear me?
-pitch blank silence

maybe
just maybe
I should have
believed you
when you said,
that you couldn't give it your all
the
first time.

I still remember the last time I saw you
and I remember the day I realized
it was really over

but life goes on, as things do
however, I still find myself
thinking about you

I’ve seen other people,
I’m sure you have too
but still, I really, truly do
myss you

I wanted to learn

so last night my fourth grade teacher
tore my eyelids off

and sat me near a television screen
that showed my mother dying
over and over
and over again.

I left as a cavity
of a boy,

collapsing at the sound of passing cars

as I searched for a payphone where
I could speak to the static about Gabriel.

(where is he?)

When I look at my brother and father

I beg for my eyes to be caressed until they’re scarred

with every daytime matinee
and curtsy on the train platform

that built me into this mosaic
of a “man”.

Everywhere I go,
Everything I do,
My heart always sees you.
When I try something new,
Or even when I feel blue.
There you are,
Like a vision from a far.
My heart skips a beat,
I tremble from my hands to my feet.
Then realize your not there,
Realize I dont see you anywhere.
My mind plays tricks on me,
You're all I want to see.
You're the mirage I can't grasp,
Empty my hands clasp....

Tämä yksinäisen tytön tarina
On pitkä ja surullinen
Se aika usein loppuu siihen
Että tyttö itkee itsensä uneen.

lookin at black stars
and shining skies
listenin to running cars
and passerbies

What do time and space hold in a mere man’s life if all the wonders of love can fit in the blink of an eye? Could he venture a verse of romance unless he sailed along the stars’ silent tears across the universe? Could he learn where tears lie in legions were it not for the shoots that tumbled into oceans? Why is the arcane speech of love written with starlight in the wetness of the eye? Isn’t this stellar lexicon sown into armoured pearls growing deep in the ocean’s keep? Doesn’t this army brim the eye with a gilded fleet when the storm makes the soul weep yet fails to ****** it and also sweep? So, how can you dab that glitter dry and look back into a dull desert of lie yet remain so alive?

©️Hirondelle (31/08/2019)

It's okay to cry,
even the sun can't get away from the clouds,
It's okay to break every once in a while,
even the sun can't avoid the rain.

It's okay to not be okay,
even the moon has to use the sun's light,
It's okay to be a little scared,
even the moon can't handle the dark.

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 too *******.
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.

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

I sat down to write a suicide note
So many people  to apologize  to
But the only words on my final paper is
Say I am sorry to my sisters for not being  strong  anymore

the scent of incense
hangs heavy in the air
the constant murmer of voices
comes crashing like waves
but your eyes meet mine
and the faces disappear
the voices die,
all that remains
is an unspoken invitation
from my lips
willing yours to kiss them
and yours happily
meet their request
leaving our love tasting
like oranges
tenderly plucked
from moonlight lips.

early wake
it's time to take
another nap

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.

I've been through a lot
If that makes me weird
So be it..

Today
I wore black
Because
Event hough
I am still breathing
I am no longer
Alive

-jt

Does it feel like nothing?
The underdog from cream of the crop
To the basis of the loser
Open your eyes
The crops will grow and sell
Under the dog is the dirt
The foundation
The giver
Prop the desired in essence
And give life to life of desirability
The source of what we want
Is the loss we give no credit

I kissed you one last time
And the kiss was... Wrong
It felt wrong
It didn't get me going
Like it used to
This is the end
I guess for me
I lost the love I had.

I just have to look
at you
to feel it.

To know it
I have to look
away.

Like the pages
of a book
mid-tornado,

Fragments of
information, the pieces
all out of place.

Still,

I believe you
beg to be
read.

I’m scared as f*ck
to want you.

But here
I am,

Still wanting you
anyway.

or does friendship and love conquer all?

~for she who will know~

the Mother of Muses came to me

on bended knee
come for to confess
a lie so grand it boggled
the heart

we bring you nothing more
than what you already possess,
the jewels of rose gold are emplaced
in your dual ventricles,
the veins stained with blue green sapphires to
feed the right and left hemispheres,
where the emerald heat and the yellow gold,
raw melt the alpha word-finery awaiting,
the pinpointed pinprick of an eyed glimpse

to release the oxidizing words atmospheric
we are not needed, just proceeders,
*** stirrers? no. *** watchers? oh yes.

all contained within,
this then, the art of the human heart,
where the external stains rest awaiting,
completing, complimenting, coming
to fruition in a reforged new birthing

see how the child looks with adoration,
perceiving the art of the mothers heart,
the spilling of time at the precise moment
when the exchange is as long as an eye wink
and as short as an entire lifetime

We the Muses, not teachers, nor inspirers,
just peddlers, collecting thimbles of words,
polished with hued syllables of tarnish,
experienced watchers discerning the exacting,
the interactive interactions of the cells,
the DNA concoctions of singers and sinners,
priests and the unforgivable, trying to tie
what deserves untying, which is an everlasting
poem that needs, laughing, an original act
of the art of the heart, yours, permission to say
The End

11:14pm
nyc
Sept. 18, 2019

What if
You have been fighting
A losing battle
All along
What if
The silence
Within you
Is only
The calm
Before the strom
And
It is going to be a fight
You just cannot
Win

-jt