even with the faithful sun now
sparing with her dawn strokes and kisses,
the naked earth breathing and pulsing
with underground seas and rivers of fire
now flat, still, and cold against my naked feet-
even with those throats i once savoured deep
the dance of snake tongues to music wet and sweet
seems to have forgotten the shape and taste of my name,
i have not lost myself,
still i know my place:
i do not belong here.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
my gaze could no longer trace
the shape and space i claimed for my own
in the wide shifting canvass along with the stars
when and where as a child i vowed to become a man.
midnight strolls under the mango trees
where spiders inspired my fingers to weave
about how and when and where to touch a woman-
where my lips charted my chosen path and press
about how to flow soft and gentle as do butterflies and bees-
*i know i stand but i could not find my feet
buried among leaves brittle, brown, and quiet*
and there, in the space where once resided my hunger
after all these suns and rains now stands immaculate
empty and desolate, my roots shrivelled into dust
perhaps transformed into these breaking cracks
gaping as it consumes my reason to go on being
with a smile i now find myself pore by pore forgetting
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 4:43 AM UTC
*your ears may never be again
the shore kissed by the waves
born from pages your fingers stroked
slow and gentle, nestled in the tender
warmth of your lover’s hand.*
still, a thought of you precipitates
like soft falling rain gathering into a stream
for pages ****** and naked
as you once were, and waiting
for words to find their shape
like how you once traced and claimed
my own in the dark
your ears may never be again
the shore waiting to be kissed
by these new waves born from streams
flowing together in my lengthening nights and days
still, everything as it must be and still is
for even after us this still remains:
*the afterstory of how i ache for you
with an emptiness equal to your silence.*
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
gazed with a pure force of naked tenderness
caressing the leash of my raving blood
to be quiet and still
as if held inside your arms
laced with your soft kisses
never will i forget your eyes
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 10:56 PM UTC
like a forgotten lighthouse
sending signals across silent skies
will they ever find brief refuge in your eyes,
these poor words i kindle
from what remains of my fire?
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 4:07 PM UTC
while most prefer art on walls
of quiet houses, solemn museums,
along lonely hospital corridors,
i decided to be a walking gallery
with my canvass skin bare to be strummed
by needles with the stories of my dying
i vowed for no words or names
for they can be a reminder of a tender voice
growing into an acacia of silence and forgetfulness
my mother asked me why, of all images
twisted horns and roaring with flame
i trapped a demon (ah, it speaks with my name)
i would have chosen a butterfly, i said
if only life was gentle like wings on summer winds
and so it was outlined and shaded
in and with the memory of ****** skin howling,
like my innocence once lost, never to be reclaimed
perhaps i will never discover
the name of the woman who holds my pen
faithful friends keep faith that i will
though i do not really know how, where, or when
feasted by time, poisons in my heart and veins
my face has remained a mask
for my smile who has almost forgotten daylight,
from my eyes the ****** in my every gaze
sleigh of the mind for what i hide behind:
of mysteries and deceptions born
in the loving state of trust and rejections
into demons i seek to keep in chains
inked, so i could go on dying and writing
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 5:01 AM UTC
naked is her fire,
from deep heart and with chaste eyes
she gathers moonlight
into spoken words reside
to soothe sad souls such as mine.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC
is it madness to confess
i crave for the sadness
i have known, named, and matched
to follow the rhythm of my heart?
like old flames with their burned out fate
of my sadness i have not felt of late
have my tears lost its salt for her thirst
do my sighs no longer suffice as cries
for all that remains in me, and dies?
where could you be, mi tristesa?
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 7:23 AM UTC
*on its last day
we murdered last year*
with our lensed eyes
named with a new gaze
our voices flayed out
with our mismatched knives
designed and sharpened
to cut, gouge, and bleed
with the gifts of new poisons
and fresh deaths.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
woman of the south
daughter of the full moon
with your tongue and its grace
to give words their colors and shape
i find myself hunting for you
in the jungle where i know nothing
without my traps and arrows
naked for your distant gaze
to touch my shade.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC