max-alvarez - Hello Poetry

Desenreda las venas y verás El de adentro es lo mismo de Las estrellas Circulando Siempre revolviendo Furthering myself I string along in wound tapes Verily, wearily Alcanzando espejo Desenreda las venas y verás El de adentro es lo mismo de Las estrellas

0

Mar 24, 2018

Mar 24, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC

Untitled

Desenreda las venas y verás El de adentro es lo mismo de Las estrellas Circulando Siempre revolviendo Furthering myself I string along in wound tapes Verily, wearily Alcanzando espejo Desenreda las venas y verás El de adentro es lo mismo de Las estrellas

11

This morning In bed with you My good arm draped over you like the blanket you like to take in the night I watched your peachy skin begin to glow in the rising sun’s light I adore your hair That auburn color that greets me as I wake I count the seconds of my life with each and every breath you take And what beautiful breaths you take I love when you wrap your leg around mine And our fingers intertwine For moments that I can only describe as forever We become one Until I whisper something silly in your ear Because your laugh I love to hear Truthfully, I just love you, my dear

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Jan 22, 2018

Jan 22, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC

Sophia Marie

This morning In bed with you My good arm draped over you like the blanket you like to take in the night I watched your peachy skin begin to glow in the rising sun’s light I adore your hair That auburn color that greets me as I wake I count the seconds of my life with each and every breath you take And what beautiful breaths you take I love when you wrap your leg around mine And our fingers intertwine For moments that I can only describe as forever We become one Until I whisper something silly in your ear Because your laugh I love to hear Truthfully, I just love you, my dear

15

Do you remember when the matchstick lit and touched the candles wick?

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Nov 12, 2017

Nov 12, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC

Light My Fire

Do you remember when the matchstick lit and touched the candles wick?

1

As always The sky is painted grey Which caused a solemn drone to spill out on to the trees below The bark of these is streaked with a terra cotta smear, My skin And the pitter patter of rain matches the tempo of The pitter patter of my feet matches the Tones of the sod and clay I am running Away and towards The cloaked man and refuge, respectfully // The cloaked man approached me in slumber His voice- static and void of inflection- draped over my body and stung my flesh with the sensation of poison. // Stripped of light, I ran into the fleeting night In hopes of gathering my bearings I cast my eyes to Great Polaris And began to sing "Oh Grand Astra! This I beg of Thee, Dissolve this fog that I again may see!" And from thistle and thorn emerged the cloaked man, Grinning a malevolent grin His stare laden with sin He spake "Can't you see you belong to me? I have brought you knowledge and I have brought you gain, But you run, and now all you'll feel is pain." And he broke my arms. As I writhed in agony, I called to the Northern Star, And he pulled at my jaw until it was off. He stuck an arrow in my lungs so that I would shut up, But I would not. With every gasp I cried out, And he tore out my tongue. He left me to die to return to the soil and sod.

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Aug 18, 2016

Aug 18, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC

Polaris

As always The sky is painted grey Which caused a solemn drone to spill out on to the trees below The bark of these is streaked with a terra cotta smear, My skin And the pitter patter of rain matches the tempo of The pitter patter of my feet matches the Tones of the sod and clay I am running Away and towards The cloaked man and refuge, respectfully // The cloaked man approached me in slumber His voice- static and void of inflection- draped over my body and stung my flesh with the sensation of poison. // Stripped of light, I ran into the fleeting night In hopes of gathering my bearings I cast my eyes to Great Polaris And began to sing "Oh Grand Astra! This I beg of Thee, Dissolve this fog that I again may see!" And from thistle and thorn emerged the cloaked man, Grinning a malevolent grin His stare laden with sin He spake "Can't you see you belong to me? I have brought you knowledge and I have brought you gain, But you run, and now all you'll feel is pain." And he broke my arms. As I writhed in agony, I called to the Northern Star, And he pulled at my jaw until it was off. He stuck an arrow in my lungs so that I would shut up, But I would not. With every gasp I cried out, And he tore out my tongue. He left me to die to return to the soil and sod.

39

I still search for the scent of a rose in a field of lilac and lace There is no luck in this place So I'll forsake the field and valley Climb the peak of the nearest mountain Pound at the void in my chest And scream your name I'll scream until the blood leaves my veins And a fire fills the sky Destroy my voice Until the rose and lavender pair again

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Jun 28, 2016

Jun 28, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC

Aroma

I still search for the scent of a rose in a field of lilac and lace There is no luck in this place So I'll forsake the field and valley Climb the peak of the nearest mountain Pound at the void in my chest And scream your name I'll scream until the blood leaves my veins And a fire fills the sky Destroy my voice Until the rose and lavender pair again

10

I beg you Peck my eyes, Oh fair Raven in the sky.

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Jun 12, 2016

Jun 12, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC

Untitled

I beg you Peck my eyes, Oh fair Raven in the sky.

3

This thought at times plagues my mind Not in the sense of complete consumption, But in a manner that strikes me with a sinking feeling In the pit of my tum, in the depths of my soul A secret fear, though I'm certain it's not exclusive There will come a time that I will die. All the moments, every single second All my breaths and beats Each twitch and blink Will cease and become memories Or will they? When I slip into the ether, will I hold to my past sights and dreams Or will I simply be a vapid void Would it fall upon an ear if I were to scream? Would I even be capable of tears, The ones I'd certainly shed Just the same a refugee does when fleeing their country- Their home, But more than merely a home. It's all I and they have ever known. I suppose it's equal fear in leaving home and fear of the unknown. I cannot imagine anything other than green grass and the rumble of thunder Southern rains and how they bring comfort So as it begins to storm in my new year of twenty-four, I cling tightly to this planet, this plane, my perception of consciousness, My dearest kind, all the car rides, broken hearts, locked lips, All the pain and it's opposite, And I smile because of how beautiful this life is, A gifted experience from the creator, And I am thankful.

0

May 12, 2016

May 12, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC

24/24 Vision

This thought at times plagues my mind Not in the sense of complete consumption, But in a manner that strikes me with a sinking feeling In the pit of my tum, in the depths of my soul A secret fear, though I'm certain it's not exclusive There will come a time that I will die. All the moments, every single second All my breaths and beats Each twitch and blink Will cease and become memories Or will they? When I slip into the ether, will I hold to my past sights and dreams Or will I simply be a vapid void Would it fall upon an ear if I were to scream? Would I even be capable of tears, The ones I'd certainly shed Just the same a refugee does when fleeing their country- Their home, But more than merely a home. It's all I and they have ever known. I suppose it's equal fear in leaving home and fear of the unknown. I cannot imagine anything other than green grass and the rumble of thunder Southern rains and how they bring comfort So as it begins to storm in my new year of twenty-four, I cling tightly to this planet, this plane, my perception of consciousness, My dearest kind, all the car rides, broken hearts, locked lips, All the pain and it's opposite, And I smile because of how beautiful this life is, A gifted experience from the creator, And I am thankful.

30

We are the calloused hands of agriculture The sun burned neck of labor The bruised heel of infrastructure We are those who go without praise or applause Who wake up early And go to sleep late So that our sons and daughters have food on their plates We are hated for our pigment We are hated for our accent Pigeonholed as rapists and smugglers But really, we do the **** pendejos would never do And we do it with pride on our sleeves And love in our hearts Because sometimes our families are countries apart We take jobs that are not glamorous And let racists hammer us And use that hammer to sustain our families

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May 5, 2016

May 5, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC

Cinco De Drinko

We are the calloused hands of agriculture The sun burned neck of labor The bruised heel of infrastructure We are those who go without praise or applause Who wake up early And go to sleep late So that our sons and daughters have food on their plates We are hated for our pigment We are hated for our accent Pigeonholed as rapists and smugglers But really, we do the **** pendejos would never do And we do it with pride on our sleeves And love in our hearts Because sometimes our families are countries apart We take jobs that are not glamorous And let racists hammer us And use that hammer to sustain our families

17

I have lived And I have died before I do not want to make the same mistakes I do not want to make the fallacy of living life without living at all Though I understand things need to be done A job, income, love, and a bed And at the same time I know life is not to be wasted on the same trivial things

0

Apr 27, 2016

Apr 27, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC

The Twice

I have lived And I have died before I do not want to make the same mistakes I do not want to make the fallacy of living life without living at all Though I understand things need to be done A job, income, love, and a bed And at the same time I know life is not to be wasted on the same trivial things

8

Night owl: The strigiforme emerges Clouded in crimson Feathered vision Cloaked in night The young man's heart races He forgot to pay his fines "It's okay" he emits "It just slipped my mind" The owl circles above "Just give me some time" The owl bellows "I need it, young fellow" As he patrols on time Vicarious visions probe the man's mind A frightening mood He's enveloped in black Festering forms drenched in worms Peck at his eyes Visceral, visceral "Forget me not" uttered in shrill And the man's neck snaps With the blood his soul leaks into the void A technicolor swirl soon gives way to paranoia He breathes, yet his lungs no longer move "Give way to my will" beckons the owl His tongue is familiar, like a lost language once spoken in times past, But hieroglyphic all the same And the man sinks and is stretched "Hrim shim fertulos visigvus, hgrstatious involsxedo prliii" Given the choice between known and unknown, the man goes with comfort A cylindrical chasm to a familial realm A world stained orange A certain memory Mother, father, A fair night in October His cigarette gleams Serenely vestigial Often times the words I know I know As if implanted in my mind Usually uttered on the spot Sometimes jargon Sometimes evident of an owl

0

Apr 18, 2016

Apr 18, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC

Ocular Vestibule

Night owl: The strigiforme emerges Clouded in crimson Feathered vision Cloaked in night The young man's heart races He forgot to pay his fines "It's okay" he emits "It just slipped my mind" The owl circles above "Just give me some time" The owl bellows "I need it, young fellow" As he patrols on time Vicarious visions probe the man's mind A frightening mood He's enveloped in black Festering forms drenched in worms Peck at his eyes Visceral, visceral "Forget me not" uttered in shrill And the man's neck snaps With the blood his soul leaks into the void A technicolor swirl soon gives way to paranoia He breathes, yet his lungs no longer move "Give way to my will" beckons the owl His tongue is familiar, like a lost language once spoken in times past, But hieroglyphic all the same And the man sinks and is stretched "Hrim shim fertulos visigvus, hgrstatious involsxedo prliii" Given the choice between known and unknown, the man goes with comfort A cylindrical chasm to a familial realm A world stained orange A certain memory Mother, father, A fair night in October His cigarette gleams Serenely vestigial Often times the words I know I know As if implanted in my mind Usually uttered on the spot Sometimes jargon Sometimes evident of an owl

43