Sinking deep
in flesh and bone,
I can only cling
to the sinews of faith
to keep myself awake.
What I desire is buried
not solely in needles nor smears of ink
but in the rapture, the jubilance,
the reckless vigor that it yields.
Gracefully, it dances
along the outline of my being
rhythmically
imprinting thoughts
never spoken -
of courage and passion,
of triumph and empathy,
ideas which
I never had the chance
to utter
to the ones I hold dear.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
Tonight, I drowned myself to sleep
with oil and
the prayers that
I keep
suspended in regret,
my faith
I steeped
with hopes of
grain and blood,
I reaped
the vast
shadow of the past, I creep
beneath
the scrying eyes,
I weep
for broken arms
raised to the sky, I leaped
without clinging
to the land I loved,
I sweep
the poison of my men,
I seep.
My heart lies in the dreams I heaped
Tonight, I drowned myself to sleep.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
She was buried in walls of pitch and snow,
shunned by the moon which she holds dear.
She stretches out her hand every night
to reach her innermost desires.
She stretches out and cry
for nights and nights, through sun and rain.
She stretches out and cry.
Words once trickled from her fingertips -
letters, of every shape and size,
dance eloquently on stone and sand.
They bathe in ethereal curiosity at dawn
and sanguine discovery at dusk.
Now nothing drips from her fingers, long and slim
but soot as dark as her gleaming eyes.
She smeared the walls with hatred and grief
and sorrow seeped from within its cracks.
Agitation wells from deep within her.
It overflows and spills into her cup of tea.
The bitterness that it brings
is rivaled only by her fear of staying alone.
There is no end to her suffering, and she knows
the walls she made were too steep and too high
and yet the moon expects such a fragile frame
to reach the pinnacle of this ordeal
and stares blatantly at her demise.
And so she rests under the shade
of mounds and mounds of pitch and snow.
She lays supine while cursing the sky,
bereft of words, letters, and ink,
with soot trickling from her eyes.
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
I.
Grandiose, grandiose
The moon shines bright
Poison drips upon her thoughts
A thousand paper cranes to fold
Fingers, trembling in distraught
“to keep or to unfold?” she thinks
But the issue ends in naught
II.
And as the light basks our very existence
I can only materialize
Nothing but a figure,
lithe,
of dreams
eccentric taste,
maturity.
beside me
beside me
Petty situations like these, I must hold dear,
I know
No
I know
III.
The waves, they crash onto the shore
There is nothing less, and nothing more.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
The air, it tastes of aspartame
O, how the shadow swooned.
Abrasive, it shifted hues
to white, from a maroon.
Alone, he treads on endlessly
without any sight of the moon.
Alone, he treads on endlessly
under bleak skies he spoke too soon.
A night of emptiness befalls
without any sight of the moon.
A light within still flickers
O, how the shadow swooned.
A light within still flickers.
A wisp from a cocoon.
An agonized longing rises
O, how the shadow swooned.
"but none was left but embers"
under bleak skies he spoke to soon.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
Breathe in slow
enough to hear
his voice - ichor
dripping from beneath
his lips sewn
with incessant thoughts
of the looming
shadows that he sees
at night, with heavy
gasps
drawn deep within
his lungs, he dreams
he's awake
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
Our fragile lives mean to exist
To traverse the exosphere;
To reach the sky with all our might,
Fatalities we tear.
We live to save and to redeem
Men from the darkness and their fears.
A gnarly looking metal box
In which each soul must reside
To pierce the heavens up above
With buttons and levers pied.
Collectively sent out to space
As bearers of love and pride.
But still the matter does not change,
That we have been left alone.
Across the emptiness we stride,
And our own souls we hone
To endure each day that passes-
Indeed, our hearts have grown!
And as we propel into space
In these metal inventions,
A trail of steam is left behind
Comprised of our abstractions
Of how our fragile lives exist
For human satisfaction.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
I.
At
the peak of
the season,
just when the
sun has
decided
to give
his utmost
gleam,
A single file
of
steps,
humble
steps,
marching
steps,
nonchalantly
moves.
Nonchalantly.
A left over
a right - a right
over a left -
clockwork-esque.
amidst the sun's
scorching gaze
with heads
facing down,
amidst the sun's
scorching gaze.
II.
Each holds
a box of wilted
petunias, heavy,
shriveled, wilted
petunias, for every
one to keep, for
every step
they took.
some
would only
possess
a handful
on their little,
wooden
boxes.
Others,
none at all.
not a single one.
none
at all.
III.
The day
finally sets,
and so do I
A black mastiff leisurely
takes his nap
- and gradually, I fall.
Cold drops of water
rhythmically descends
from the kitchen faucet
- and gradually, I fall.
A hopscotch game,
a child then jumps
- and gradually, I fall.
The city streets,
busy with people going
to and fro
- and gradually, I fall.
A ship sails
into the vast blue sea
- and gradually, I fall.
Stars glimmering,
dancing,
in the cold dark sky
- and gradually, I fall.
- and gradually, I fall.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
Sun-kiss'd skin
basked in the soft glow
of the afternoon.
The warm summer breeze
gently glides around my earth
caressing
every strand of hair
every atom
every inch of history
every figment of reality
coursing through my body
bound on my being
composing
decomposing
thoughts.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
I wait
for the return
of the warm summer breeze
despite feeling winter's kiss -
for all my stars aligned.
I wait
for the bloom
of the lilies
despite the barren land -
for allmy star s aligned.
I wait.
I truly wait.
for the sound
of your footsteps
despite a love long lost and forgotten.
f or al lm ys ta r sal i gne d.
fo ar il m n ts a rlsa lg yed.
aro l sf m yl sla rgs a ni ed
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC