old bayonet--
I wonder if one touched
my grandfather's body
Jun 30, 2022
Jun 30, 2022 at 2:48 PM UTC
My hands are cold, too cold
the wind burning my nose,
as it pushes me across the road,
hitting me with the reality
that I'm not there where the sun is
Numbers jump out at me
Splashing my face
with their significance
Buses meeting trains and hotel rooms
...you never did leave, did you?
It was I who left.
Hours, numbers
Days, years
A decade and 3 years
and this is the first
but hopefully the last
Magnified void that clenches me
I get lost most times
but those numbers again,
Always coming up to remind me...
reflective tears
as the clock ticks past
to the past
and I am left with my hands
on my face and the clock's face
Trembling fingers touching keys
Chilled by so many reasons--
Emptied by the sighing seasons
I remind myself to smile,
amidst these blurry letters
Your laughter
resonating in my heart
Never leaving me
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 3:10 PM UTC
Dotted brush strokes
fill the air,
arresting me
All I do is stare,
yearning to be
on higher ground
Yet all I have is concrete
I walk to where
grass meets the worm
and look up at the s.weeping sky
delicate golden light facing me
The variegated rose catches my eye,
Yet escapes my lenses...
capturing mulberries instead
Mosquitoes feed upon me
and I let them
"Revel in this", my soul says
*"It's been too long since you last
saved moments for your spirit."*
sometimes
It is good to just be
like the mullberry
To darken as it ripens,
to fall,
possibly leaving stains
Yet can also feed the earth,
to grow...
then reach upwards
to touch
those brush-stroked clouds.
Apr 19, 2022
Apr 19, 2022 at 5:20 PM UTC
close my eyes
think of myself
being there
to where
screams
are free to roam,
then bounce back,
immune to tortured souls
allowed to spread
in wa e
v s
for some reason,
Ararat comes to mind
right now
but to be honest,
Arayat would suffice
surrender...
surrender,
surrender
all these rocks
Can
I
disturb you?
Even just this once...
let me
let out
my
sanctioned screaming,
and release it to these mountains.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
The angels, with their folded wings
walk on silent ground
They know not whether
to weep,
or wield their sighing harps.
It seems like hearts are stones,
or jewels would they be?
Precious gems, maybe.
Of different hues,
with scattered light.
Encrusted, unpolished
by time and tears,
by things spoken and not. ...
The angels, moving forward--
with their timid halos
and shorn heads-
their soles
touching sacred ground.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
An almost stillness came about as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty
But her obsidian eyes betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me,
and I knew…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?
She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other ***** beasts with no spine
That throaty tenderness when she spoke,
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says she loathed him, denied she loved him,
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her
There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her,
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself
Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.
Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly
I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A certain stillness came about as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....
Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.
Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
Place your head on my shoulder,
let it stay there
and we'll just breathe
together
in
...and... out
Inhale positivity,
exhale negativity-
Pluck the sadness from the air,
unravel that ball of worry...
We'll find that knot
that started it all,
untangle it,
and wave ribbons
in the air
We'll let those colors swirl
around each other,
we'll blend them...
then weave them
into a tapestry
that comforts us
in the end
Doesn't matter
at all
if it turns out
too short
Our lives
are full of tangles
anyway,
a lot of thread
out there...
So place your hand in mine,
let it stay there,
and we'll weave
together
...in
...and.... out...
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 1:18 AM UTC
soft waves ripple the water,
they come and they go,
sprinkling seeds of fervent hope
gentle waves tickle the sand,
they come and they go,
leaving dreams
of rapture
behind
Boastful waves CRASH into rocks,
they come and they go,
shattering dreams
to s m i t h e r e e n s
frantic waves expunge the sea foam,
they come and they go,
d
r
ow
n
ing
hope
as
it does
silent waves creep back to the sea,
they come and they go,
a cupful of
tears in tow
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC