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CeriseRed Sep 2018
The dying hero said
To his wife and his beloved children
"I obliged you not to follow the same path I took."

With those words,
His daughter inquired,
"Father, how come not if it was a beautiful path
with those roses and dandelions,
showered by a blazing yellow hot sun
glittered with cotton candy sky
and a bouquet of trees and a choir of angelical wind?"


The hero stared blanky at his daughter
His heart gasped a beat and mouthed the words,
"Singsong the truth without coated sugar,
the world needs the intellectuals
with skills and talents,
neccessary for humanity to survive,
be a doctor who cures the sick,
be an engineer who builds
be a lawyer, be a farmer or a fisher,
anything will do but not the one I am."


Silence.

"They are nothing without words,
They are nothing but robots,
without the tune of the tongue,
without the ink of the heart,
the world for them is all but rigid,
round but pointed,
with air but not breathing.
Words can **** but words can also heal."

The girl paused, then stand.
"Father can crack the caramel paint
and reveals of what's the truth,
I am who I am
and I am what father can do."


It was midnight.
The hero died.
A dead man and a dead will.
His deed still lives in pages,
and in the veins of his female kid.
A rebel daughter was born.
Her words were nothing for an empty soil.
A dead will and a dead man.
He wrote poems.
CeriseRed Feb 2016
I would love to fly
   -- and form my own figured cloud
I would love to swim
  -- and rest under the seabed
I would love to fall
  -- and be burnt beneath the atmosphere
I would love to wander
  -- and pick every stone along the street
I would love to long
  -- and live beyond reach

I wish I hope I could,
But I rather love to be with you through these adventures.

Or I would love to love you
Beyond else and beyond reach.
CeriseRed Feb 2016
DOubt to press a key
REvealing the sound of a hammer on its string
MIght that sound is not good to hear
FAr from the hymn, created in my ear
SO the spaces between the blacks from whites
LAst, to provide the tune of life
TIll the black keys are raised and set
DO musics whites can't create.
I first published this poem online under the username of SixEightOneFour in Wattpad. Some minor revisions had been made. :)
CeriseRed Feb 2016
My friend threw a drill:
Does CCTV hear?
I catch -- "No, it is all scenes,
For it was named See-SeeTV
Nothing mentions the senses hear-hear."
CeriseRed May 2016
I want to be nobody
Never given any attention
I want to be somebody
Ever embrace of applause
I should to know anybody
Grasp the knowledge of unknown
Hence, I should use to be everybody.

To make myself into someone...

Someone who is nobody,
Ever invisible
Someone who is somebody
Never expired
Someone who knows anybody
Ever compassionate
Someone who uses to be everybody
Never granted, never ashamed.
I hate myself; I hate that I encourage them but I had *no one* I can keep. I may have still loneliness in my blood, right? I don't know if they didn't saw the blues on me (for keeping and showing don't help) either if they do care for me. Either way, still, I chose to stay.

Oh age of my youth, why so cruel to me?
CeriseRed Apr 2016
It is time...

To show your real heart which you have tried to mask in a stone.
Your heart -- pure and real -- to be shown, strive to be real in constant;
even every after heartbreaks and downfall.

Now, let the world bowed down to its knees, and let its ears be deaf as an applause will be dropped off.

Time has been set:
In seconds in each day in a week, in a month, in each year you're still living.

Did you hear the director's queue? My Dear God,
He said, "Curtains' Up!"
Don't play child, just act real.
We're ready.
CeriseRed Sep 2016
Without a cape, heroes still fly.
He lingers between sentences.
He remains in every pebbles.
He runs through other veins.
Without ammunition, heroes still bold.
He weakens curses and lies.
He fights of negative polarity.
He strengthen justice and peace.
Without a mask, heroes still undefined.
He resides within ourselves.
He lives in our dreams.
A dead hero he is!
CeriseRed May 2016
The cotton of blue
The sheets of green and grey
Dazzled with fireflies of orange
The crescent plate glows in gold
Twisted with mantle of black
With gold, with silver
With gun,
Shoots the sun
Had once risen
In glittering yellow and white
Been scattered into pieces of maroon
Blood deepen in red
Upon of once ever pure sky
Until his death covered with violet
For the moon will reign.
*No pun intended
CeriseRed Feb 2016
Traveling to west,
I found an island which the sun never set.
Whilst reading Re-shaping the World: Philip II of Spain and His Time - Dámaso de Lario
CeriseRed Oct 2016
I have two hands—the left and the right
I raise them high
So clean and shine
I hold them together with more than a second
They imperfectly fit on spaces
For you will see the eleventh.
CeriseRed Aug 2016
Red drips down my pen
Along the passages of my sorrow
Within the lines of my emptiness
I ended up with your name
CeriseRed Mar 2018
We were strangers
Swimming against the currents of each own river
But the water is too deep and too swift
Until we meet at the water falls

I was near the edge holding tight
Daring not to fall
And you were swimming back
Hoping for the serene pool

Both travellers were scared of the gravity
Not knowing what's beneath the deep
Because the memories of the mountain water
Are vivid, lively, and clear.

Ahoy, stranger!
Sometimes a space to find ourselves, to keep what's within us—our feelings for each other, if it was "for me" and "for you" and not for the idea of "me and you"—before meeting the lines is the best for us. Thanks.
CeriseRed Jul 2016
I'm afraid of my love for you
Perhaps I fear of your love
When I know everything will last
That love *expires
K
CeriseRed Feb 2016
Old School Thoughts:

My ink rans out!
The sheets are out of stock!
Get the gun, fire the torch...
This is an immediate war!

Nowadays Thoughts:**

My ink rans out!
The sheets are out of stock!
Get the phone, type the words
Wifi is fair, my neighbour is well
Hello Poetry is on, ready for my poetic soul...
Here they hail, poems that should remain!
Hail O' Poetry for "Hello" Poetry.

It was nice to meet people with wits, passion and love for poems here in the website. I'm kind of the "newbie" here, and the like I first received in one of my own made me blush! Now, going through the system here and forth is one of my newest and best amazement, a new hobby, I would like to foresee and hold onto until I live.

And so, my imprints lie in here.

Dedicated to all of you. :)
Thank you.
CeriseRed Jul 2016
Dreams are clouds
Soft like cottons, bouncy like spring
Topmost like reaching is destiny.

Clouds are dreams
Ain't soft, ain't bouncy
Hence, dreams are *dreams.
Dedicated to Book Reviews, Term Paper (Cultural Mapping), Baby Thesis, Quizzes, Reports, and Recitations. Good Job!
CeriseRed Nov 2016
How do you feel now you're gone?
Have you gone through the winds
Sweep yourself through the leaves
Tries to blow away upon my face the tears
Then whispers everything you never said but wished
Yet hush-hush was the only sound for me to be at peace.

Tell me, how do you feel when you have left?
Do you ever ask the same thing like mine?
For I anew think aloud to the stars
There once a ball of fire in my heart
Fueled by your soul and vivified by your warmth
Like those diamonds every at night
But now, your absence had stolen my priceless precious wealth.

Come, please, tell me
How does it feel?
For I felt nothing but miss you so dear...
CeriseRed Apr 2016
If Love is sacrificing all I have had,
I will embrace hatred
For you are my favorite part.

If Love will set us boundaries,
I'll call out an all-out-war
For you are worth dying for.

If Love moves in mysterious ways
Which will make our fate intertwined
Which will make our destiny falls apart
I'll be a thief to steal the pen.

If Love will make us suffer
Which these invisible chains have our bare feet
Which will ruin our veins
Then, let us together be at peace.

Might in another world,
Hatred is our wings
Revenge is an art
Mysteries are the music of the harp
And suffering is heaven.

If we can't meet on our way
I'll surrender myself on fire
Nothingness I had
Dumbness I felt
Weakness I got
Only even a second of your touch
Then, Love let define us.
CeriseRed Mar 2018
Speak up!
Uncover your veil
Stand up your right
You are vast and infinite

Unbind these sick systems
And uproot all interconnected stems
Blossom high up to the sky
A room is nothing with the universe

Speak up!
Chin up, show your smile
Walk with pride for thousand miles
Little girl, my dear
You are vast and infinite.
This is an impromptu poem because the reading in our History of World Religions, which is all about the status of women in different religions, has been wandering around my mind. See, my english somehow makes no sense hehe.
CeriseRed Jun 2016
Change is constant
In this realm of black and white
Where a lonely soul's eye
Met no gaze from anyone.

She pleads, cries and screams
Reach out in each ghost-like things
Nothingness she found but no aid
Only the pain and horror in her rotten skin.

She dances with the routine
Within the place she bounds for
A cage of the lonely soul lies in
Together with her doubts and broken dreams

Believing of no end—an eternity perhaps
This path she took granted for
An escape for the hatred; approval for labels
A life but a dream, a no-life she means.
CeriseRed Apr 2016
I have written every sentiments I had in you and in the world,
Even if I become shameless through my words,
While having the experiences been exploited,
As I weave by abstractions and pinned by interpretations.

I have tasted every ink of the pen when I swallowed these pages,
Which turned me to a body buried six feet underground.
As a full moon shines, I'd be risen again and again...
Pretending to breathe like I came from a good sleep.

I have painted you through the world --- the world and us
Along with the unicorns and magical forms and the opposites
Through these theories, revolutions, and reforms
We can live but equal; we can exit the canvass' frame!

I have found you lifeless with weight again
You have been through my arms with the alphabets
Then you buried yourself; "wake up!" I cry but you never rose
Oh! Now, my words are dead...
CeriseRed Apr 2016
Yes,
Rejections are granted
By humiliations
And by heartbreaks.

Thus,
keep going on for the fight
Wherein it lies the beauty in right
I may never know where it will end
I may never know when it will be gone
For who am I to count?

But one thing  I knew for sure
The challenge of once you had fought
The imagery of once you had chased
The simplicity of once pure heart
Had never died.

Indeed,
The battle is
Either you have it won
--- or you have learned from it.
CeriseRed Feb 2017
1, 2, 3, smile for me.
Eyes infront, open and do not close
As the light flashes and the wind blows
This picture will last until we're gray and old
So pay attention my beloved
Neither only we have the moment be hold
But also captured the hearts of two souls in a photo
CeriseRed Feb 2020
The day rises at eight, journeys at ten
Arrives nearly at noon
Salt sweat stream down her shirt

The day finds the hive
No honeys but melted chocolate chair
Steel rust stain stamp her skirt

Behold for no king bee arrives
Only the smoker
Fog fazed the dizzy dazzle bears.
I miss reading books which will take away your heart, will welcome you like home and will play the hands of time. Any recommendations? 🙃
CeriseRed Apr 2016
The clichè story between the wilds
Starts with a sly fox secretly tracks
And a prey who pursues for the bees
With the honey is surely sweet
Not in a den dark and deep

The prey remarked its bad days
In a howl of a bird during cloudy eve
The bees are chasing the east behind the tree tops
Birds' eye view, wide and clear,
To shut the morning breeze and his beak

The fox clever yet numb
Watches the prey, dare not to move, for her hungry *****
She sniffed (the idea of) the perfume of its wing,
Hugged and kissed its feet, staring directly
Gives her shadow to dance and her physique charm to still

The line ended without a start like any gambling roullette
Whatever the defeat must be accepted
May one's soul laid its tongue to ground
May the fox turned its head back
For the approaching hunter
--- yearning for her meat and fur.



I wish I may?
CeriseRed Aug 2018
The beauty of a poem
Lies between the words
Which captured the poet's soul.
CeriseRed Oct 2019
"We have no other choice
but to be brave and strong
each and everyday,"
Says the woman in the mirror

"But how far I will go?"
Doubts her shadow as she calls it a night.
CeriseRed Jun 2016
True love means letting him go after seeing the smile he had because of *her...
CeriseRed Jul 2017
My pen's ink overflows for the word
"you"
Which overrated
the soul of the self-proclaimed poet
of a myth-proven word barely reciprocate
But renders the spirit of logic to resurrect
from the grave of shattered passion and innocence.
Flooded and full,
the blank sheet of paper awaits
for romantic imagery of beloved Cupid's effigy
But, then I thought
Why about love?
CeriseRed Sep 2018
I don't want your "good mornings"
and your "have a lovely day!"
with a smiley at the end.
I don't want your "good afternoons"
and  "eat well your lunch"
with three flowers as an end.
I don't want your "how's the weather?"
with those silly emojis at the edge.

Stop...

Rather let's talk about how universe explodes which made two souls collide and brought life the idea,
or how sunsets differ every dusk in every direction from north, east, west and south,
or why the air is heavy,
why the waves of the ocean is weightless,
why do birds fly,
what change we can be,
and more of the likes mentioned above.

Or, maybe not.
Only if you want a dance along the silence.

— The End —