Deja Vue
25 November 2021

I have been here when I was young.
Dead bears, wolves howling, wooden stairs, wooden legs.

Nights alone.

At my heels slavering death.
Gasping, failing breath.
Trembling, remembering their eyes.

Falling into the abyss.
This time will I awake?

lonely moonlit night
trying to hide my longings
to sleep in your arms.
2/12/2021

u see the knife
you watch the glow
u see me smile
but can't hear me cry
u think i'm happy
but inside i'm breaking
u see the blood
then u realize
that i wasn't
lying
when i said
i'm depressed!
u wish u gave me the
support i needed
but now it's too late.
I'm dying inside...

When the lights
Go out
Is there ant doubt
where we bought
Should be?

La mocedad del año, la ambiciosa
Vergüenza del jardín, el encarnado
Oloroso Rubí, Tiro abreviado,
También del año presunción hermosa;
La ostentación lozana de la Rosa,
Deidad del campo, Estrella del cercado;
El Almendro en su propia flor nevado,
Que anticiparse a los calores osa:
Reprehensiones son, oh Flora, mudas
De la Hermosura y la Soberbia Humana,
Que a las leyes de flor está sujeta.
Tu edad se pasará mientras lo dudas;
De ayer te habrás de arrepentir mañana,
Tarde, y con dolor, serás discreta.

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)

I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

Woman
Mother
Daughter
Wife

Pictures play
For each word
A box is created
Without hesitation

Jam yourself in it
Make them all smile

The past is a novel I'm working on , revising , rewriting , and discarding .

The future is a perfect Haiku I've yet to corrupt

All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing

All things forgotten
Not one thing forgotten
Everything is dear
The dearly beloved
A Precious time,
the journey of love
Make no mistake
Mistakes will be made
The end
Will never define us
A true bond
How special it is
For better or worse
Take my love anyway
For it was always yours.

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."

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

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.

His love
lived in my eyes
ups and downs
little white lies
we played joy
well after dark
knickers around
his twisted toes
a gentle pose
inside
my scented rose
he held me tight
by the band
on my hand
peace and one love
is a song he sang
my hallelujah's
I sing
to his soul
I still hear
his heart beat
heaven behold.

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

Directed each plane and
Relaxed turbulence up Rd eee

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

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.

an evergreen tree
actually a berry
the Mamey apple

It's a cold call in the middle of the night,
you're orbiting a big yellow sun with long brown hair,
and sharp, fierce, green eyes.
Now you're being thrown from her orbit,
hurdling into a vacuum,
it's like driving without headlights.
Don't hold your breath,
you're out of her pull,
out of her grasp,
don't look back.
Just collide with other planets,
crashing and burning up with no sound,
it's a silent film.
Shedding yourself,
pieces of you crumble and break away,
as your last bits blister through the atmosphere.
Stripped down,
smooth and bare, like a newborn,
you land into the arms of a planet you can call home.

All the bravest people
have already killed themselves.

I wonder what
they'd
Have to say about
all of this now.

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.

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.