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 May 2018 A Lofi Cherry
Ciel Noir
You sing your eerie songs beneath the sea
I wish we understood you on the shore
I weep to hear such haunting melodies
I weep for what my world has done to yours

I wonder if you know what we have done
I hope that we at least can let you live
I wish that I could learn to sing your songs
To say thank you and ask you to forgive

I don't know if we would forgive ourselves
If you should be silenced and heard no more
Silence almost as eerie as your songs
With no one left to sing them anymore
3:15am

<•>

unlike a first kiss, a first love,
the premiere awkward first coupling,
which when one recalls it
appears with ever increasing fuzziness (intentionally?)
or not at all, so much so that making it up based on
fleeting hazed glimpses of unmemorized dreams
just to have an “official entry in the cloudy memory,”
is a semi-necessity for regaling...nobody

but you never forget your virginal
projectile vomiting

there is even an emoji for it,
a hurling curling celebration

like a computer reset,
a confessional admission
that includes your own original
original sin,
a purging so complete,
it is a rebirthing of sorts,
a human do over

(c’mon c’mon get on with this, this
no kiss, a most undeserving bizzaring poem title choice)


each and every time I draw forth
the words on the in sides of me
they are ejected with force comparable,
my body rejecting l'étranger,
who’s now escaping

no first kiss, miss, no laughing at one’s first tumbling fumbling,
there is no smiling recollections sweet,
a cover up for your exciting intimation initiations faint revisions

but your first writing!

given up and out in a ejection burst,
a needle in the arm, gunshot
fluids *******, spit out,
without malice aforethought,
and this your last writing

this one, yes, this one.
comes quick, rough and inelegant,
expulsion combustion leaving you
panting on the cold floor you emptied
but
sorta of whole, a clean sheet, so to speak,
swearing you’ll never do this again,
must be an easier way,
to just slow secrete it holy,
or give up the drug of writing
raven forevermore nevermore

nope-u-dope

the vision of a long ago rabbi,
being burned to death slowly
by the Romans, wrapped in
dampened torah scripture scrolls
to lengthen the burnished burning,
a vision burned into a
very youthful boy’s consciousness,
the holy black ink hand drawn letters flowing
from martyr’s mouth, flying heavenward
this fresh within,
a childhood image primal mind,
is ways present
as each letter typed, formulating mathematically,
based on an artificial intelligence theorem,
that updates itself with every missive,
until the new poem is
projectile released in
a single ***** bursting,
purging of the urging

and guess what,

it just happened again

4/27/18

~for Sky, whose poems endearing found me, in her brazen ways,
which is what poets do~
https://hellopoetry.com/sheepskyny/
When Rabbi Hananiah ben Tradyon was caught teaching Torah in public, the Romans decided to make an example of him. Accordingly, Rabbi Hananiah was wrapped in a Torah scroll, which was then set afire. As if this torture were not sufficient, strips of water-soaked wool were placed on his body to prolong his agony. While his distraught students looked on helplessly, Rabbi Hananiah inspired them with his famous utterance, "The parchment is burning but the letters are flying off," meaning that enemies can crush the Jewish body but not the spirit
You were white paper
I smiled, flames licked you up 
Innocence is ash
....
Poetry to me
Is all the unspoken words
Written on paper
....
Anything is sweet
In a voice spun of sugar
Made you candyfloss
....
I never minded
That it wasn't fairy tales
I still felt magic
....
Mummy held my hand
The pictures sighed so sadly
The other was empty
This is a random assortment of some haikus I wrote. None of which I felt deserved their own post, but rather a place in a variety pack.
Titles (in order)
Innocence
Poetry
Burnt sugar
Fairy tales
Gone
 Apr 2018 A Lofi Cherry
marscia
There is a prayer in the wind
that you cannot see
if we close our eyes
would you read it to me ?
 Apr 2018 A Lofi Cherry
Adele
Love
 Apr 2018 A Lofi Cherry
Adele
The word that twirls a lady in
a windy moors
with daffodils watching her from afar
moving their bodies to the velocity and rhythm

Words, words, words,
the flowers took a glance of a
pummeled heart
the next day where clouds gloom
pouring anger to a lonely life
the lady lay on a bed of grass
waiting for the rain to melt
her raging heart

Little daisies whisper
as the lady found a shade
and sat looking at a tranquil sky
She waited and waited
until the night came to cover the dismal eyes

Every day the flowers
await for the beam of sunlight
and the soft touch of the wind
who used to play with the
lady in the moors

She disappeared without a trace

One day, she came back with
a discreet smile
walking with grace
on her way to paradise
she planted a sunflower
under the sunlight

she looked up and blinded by the glint
the flowers giggled
and started dancing again.
 Apr 2018 A Lofi Cherry
Traveler
And when my mind
Is finally gone
No recall
Of what went wrong
Memories blurred
No longer cursed
Judged and blessed
Of all my worth

I will set quietly
In happy thoughts
Awaiting the stages
Where death is lost
Where you and I
Shall meet again
Hearts in minds
Behind our pens

No need to believe
In promises made
Entropy is
An eternal phase
.............
Traveler Tim
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
 Apr 2018 A Lofi Cherry
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
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