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Jun 2020 · 280
Fresh Summer Days
Ale Jun 2020
Rain water overflowing
our garden bed, now
a bright green in the
fresh morning dew.

Picking up fresh herbs,
surrounding grass,
tiny lavender flowers
sprouting sporadically
in between coarse leafs,
our own starry night sky.

Dripping trees in bright
sun rays of first hours,
stretching far beyond roots,
colors previously dull
now beaming rainbows.

Bringing out twinkling
powder, light pollen
into nostrils, sneezes
from red noses, blushing
cheeks with moist heat of
the fresh rainy days of
a liberating summer.
It’s raining a lot, but at least the plants are getting watered.
Jun 2020 · 151
I’m tired
Ale Jun 2020
The sore muscles of my back
Crack with pain as I hit the glass
I’m caught in a fight till the end of time
With no other than my own mind
Ale Jun 2020
Scalp burning with erratic perturbation-
Wisps of hair detached from pale flesh-
Shaking fingers gripping into carved moons on dented skin-
The drug is in the stream, causing perpetual commotion.

And it flutters, flying like a bird
around the space of my flimsy stomach,
then a ferocious lion, jumping and *******
with not shame whatsoever,
not paying attention to the simple fact that I
have been left in awe -an understatement for such epiphany-
by words written by a stranger, strangely intimate,
resonating firmly against my rib cage.

My heart in a hurry to reach its eventual demise,
but the lack of care evident, for your words have
spoken to me in such a distinctive way, that
I don’t need anything anymore to keep breathing, other than
the poet softly whispering words in my ear,
uncovering them, when they were previously stuffed
with relentless loathing, spitted venom from ignorants.

They showed me that it was not mine,
that it never belonged in my system.
They taught me how it feels
to love something again.
And for that, I’m forever grateful.
I’m not sure if this stream of consciousness makes much sense, so please consider the fact that I wrote it with an unnatural amount of caffeine in my system while reading a poem that shattered me. I just wanted to say thank you to the poets that actively choose to share their poetry in this site. If you are reading this please know that your poetry has changed me in ways I thought impossible, definitely for the better. Your words have even saved me from my own self, so I feel like I will always owe you something. Thank you once again for choosing to deviate from the norm and choosing to follow that feared artistic path! You are touching hearts, and will keep doing that as long as you write. Thank you!
Jun 2020 · 164
The Truth
Ale Jun 2020
Can’t you see, dear,
that I have spun a
web of lies
in your name?
All of them,
stories of greatness,
stories of love,
carved from my
trembling hands,
dripping from
my mind,
all for you.
Yet, you don’t
even know I exist.
Jun 2020 · 264
Once Upon a Daydream
Ale Jun 2020
In the real world,
the detailed fantasy
I created has
no meaning,
no worth,
no power.
The realization
leaving me speechless,
a reality so tightly woven
with a thread of fiction.
It’s hard for me
to separate dreams
from harsh truth.
I experience
They call it maladaptive daydreaming.
Jun 2020 · 785
The Educator
Ale Jun 2020
In the months after your departure,
-heart wrenching for some, an exhale
of air after holding it in for too long
for me- I’ve been trying to crack you
open, like a mystery box, to discover the
unknown nature of your charms, compelling.

Were you appealing because you listened
to us? You listened to our low voices in a
society where we were belittled and silenced
into cooperation.
Coerced into leaving our sense of self behind
and following the norm, what is acceptable.
I saw right through you.

You planned this elaborate scheme and I
almost fell for it, I almost fell for your greedy
hands, promising approval, understanding,
a confidant like no other.
Making us think we were too mature for our age,
when we were just silly, innocent girls
craving recognition, just like any other,
wanting to be seen.

You fooled us into believing that you truly saw
us, but I noticed the way you looked at them,
They weren’t being seen in the way they
wanted to.
They were being looked at like just another
piece of meat.
You unclothed them with your filthy eyes.
Don’t you have any shame?

You even had the audacity to appear shocked,
even angry, when us, the ones that realized the wicked,
twisted game you were playing with them, gave you
the cold shoulder. We weren’t the stupid girls you
thought we were.

And all this time, I have blamed myself for not realizing
sooner, and when seeing what was really going on,
not speaking up.
And yes, I regret that, but I won’t give you the pleasure
of blaming anyone other than yourself,
of blaming myself.

After all, I wasn’t the one that looked and
touched them in inappropriate ways,
I wasn’t the one that whispered in their ears
drunk out of his mind,
And I wasn’t the one that earned their trust,
just to groom them.
In that story, I wasn’t the predator,
that titled belonged -and still does-
to you.
He was supposed to educate us. Instead, he made us tremble in fear.
Jun 2020 · 143
To pretend on this day
Ale Jun 2020
They sip champagne,
and sing cheerfully
for Father’s Day,
to commemorate those
who love unconditionally.

But, what about the ones
that were more monster
than human? Furious
at the hands of alcohol.
Drunk, sleeping on the couch.

My heart is confused
in these lovely times
of celebration, creation,
for my heart is warmed
when seeing the others.

Fathers that don’t hesitate
to give the their children love.
But, then it freezes up
from the lack of love my father
replaced with broken bones.
Wanting to leave everything in the past,
my father ignores my lasting scars.
I wish I would be able to love him
but he hasn’t even apologized.

I’ll just have to pretend the rest of the day.
Jun 2020 · 229
“Una Fotografia”
Ale Jun 2020
Always amazed in eerie incantation,
our love captured in time,
frozen on still image;
black and white, translucent,
I fill in for lacking colors.

Embracing on town boulevard,
birds fluttering on autumn sky
place where we met in afternoon-lit shops,
the old cafe were we danced
brimming with wanderlust souls.

Pretentious foliage with a warming hug,
dancing orange-blue flowers on cream dress,
dangling jewelry: rings, golden bracelets,
red lip imprint left on dreaming face,
intertwined lives, encompassing forever.

Our memories play like old movies,
your clean perfume, dropping rivulets,
past left behind, dirt on shadows,
anything I would do to go back
where gentle whispers summon smiles.

I’m back, a ghost town years later
from a love that never was,
desperately searching through places,
the ones we explored together,
I mutter your name to utter strangers-

Voice braking, quivering frown,
frustration, on descent,
a numbness with no light,
silence, for no one has seen you since,
this old photograph, the only witness left.
This poem was inspired by a song very dear to my heart, “Una Fotografia” by Bonny Cepeda. The song paints a tragic yet beautiful picture of two lovers that experienced a great love but eventually went their separate ways. The photograph that was taken was the only proof left of their beautiful romance.
Jun 2020 · 138
Spirit Child
Ale Jun 2020
We play with bright yellows,
Oh, my spirit child,
Your smile innocent
Revamps my heart!
And I tell you stories,
Those you love so much,
We hum favorite melodies,
And repeat after poets,
You amaze me with stories
Never thought of before,
Formative years, childhood,
Fearless, creativity flourishes!
Image of myself, reflected
But way back in time, sweet!
I’ve cried downpours,
Shaking in your name,
Cause I know your essence
Won’t remain unscathed.
Your love so pure!
Jun 2020 · 267
Years Before the Tempest
Ale Jun 2020
And my eyes were shining
Like a blazing summer day,
Chocolate, caramel swirl
Toasted coffee, brown,
From a settled gaze upon a girl
With her face pristine, pale,
Tinged salty cheeks ruby red,
Light dress flowing, shy frame
Around her, in swirl azure,
Attire matching waves
I was fond of, knew too well
Our windows collided, exploding colors
Her eyes watering grey sky,
Face burning, nervous smile;
Beauty never seen upon this land,
She reached out for me
And the clock stopped ticking,
I compared my hand to hers,
Calloused from my fishing ways,
And her dainty fingers, trailing arms,
“Pen and paper are my favorite ones”
For she was a poet, she told me once
And I just someone who traversed the sea,
She went on to write stories of me,
Tiny island, complicit to crime,
We bathed in sinned ocean water,
“By the sounding sea we live!” she chimed.
A magical start must come before a tragic end :(
Jun 2020 · 382
Stronger than Water
Ale Jun 2020
The ice crunched beneath our feet
As we trailed towards the sea,
Cold air infused with salty tales
Of fisherman that sank long before we.

The boat skipped fast blue waves,
Suddenly my head hit the floor,
I smelled blood, mine and fish alike,
Smiling into the great expanse of sky.

And I saw the wave, long before you did
But you held my hand, and I squeezed back,
For this was our place, in this tiny boat,
The water high above, splashed into lungs.

Even deep in ocean, and after the storm
Glued, even in the most tragic death,
The strongest ones couldn’t pry you off
As our grave was lowered into the earth.
For our love was stronger than the water itself.🌊
Jun 2020 · 591
For Its June and I-
Ale Jun 2020
Tropical weather brings along the rain,
Bathing burning skin, scorching sun,
And the tree out front has overgrown
Bright, tiny yellow flowers, sprinkled light.
They emerge, stars amongst the greenery
As we swim across the cooling sea,
Lemon flavor lingers in your mouth,
Sugary kisses, on humid nights.
And the tallest palms, they reach the skies,
Swaying gently, bending in the wind,
Month of June, I breeze, for all the whims,
And we keep each other, discovering.
For the summers filled with the sweetest smiles :)
Jun 2020 · 199
Grass and Soil
Ale Jun 2020
The rolling grass tinges skin green,
Color that sets in your eyes,
And the dirt that came from heavy rain
Is the one that sets in mine.
The flowers bloom, touching hands,
Combining breaths, destined paths,
For the grass in soil, roots reach deep,
And soil keeps steady, approaching wind.
Our love is natural like grass and soil
Jun 2020 · 166
Ale Jun 2020
The heavens above have heard my pleas,
Countless times, name screamed from lips,
They rolled off poisoned tongue, to float,
The curse you planted on my heart, unknown,
I conjure fictitious lore to sell in your name,
Strange dreams on drunken sleep of you,
I thought once before, I don’t think no more,
***** echoes, sweet, enthralling fumes,
Tingling hands, never tire out from ink,
“No rest until all pages are filled with him”,
And the mother beams with the know it all,
Spell casted lightly from charmers tongue,
And my ears unsealed, I tied down my hands,
You resumed your singing, with a glinting eye.
Jun 2020 · 173
My Name In Comparison
Ale Jun 2020
My name in comparison
Sounds very sad,
With the way you speak of them,
Holding pedestals.

And I’ve never been
The best one in class,
But I bleed the lines
That write your love,

And my body won’t ever
Look like theirs,
But I use it to embrace
Your lonely soul,

And my silent mouth
Never speaks a word,
But my sunken eyes
Tell you all the lore,

I came out the womb,
And I clutched your hair,
But I never felt
The love you professed,

But I carry on,
Your story on my back,
When I love you, mom,
I never think twice.
My life expectancy decreases
Each time you use my name in comparison
To them.
Jun 2020 · 150
El Silbón
Ale Jun 2020
From the old house in the planes
I can hear it from the hay,
The night quickly turned eerie
At the whistling miles away.

As I said into the dark
“Soon he’ll be around “,
Phantom tales coming back
The child cowered from the fire,

“If it sounds close, then he’s far,
If it sounds far, then he’s close”,
The man with the hat and matching coat
Dragging heavy bag of bones.

Cursed by his mother
Because he killed his father,
He roams till the end of time
He already got my brother.

He is roaming your neighborhood
When you hear the clanking sounds,
Now it’s my turn at last
To go join them in the bag.
I don’t know if I’m going crazy but I’ve heard the whistling once and the sound of bones outside various times. If you like horror stories, I invite you to read about “El Silbón”(The Whistling Man). It’s a folktale originating from Venezuela and it’s very enjoyable if you are into that sort of thing.
Jun 2020 · 583
Your Ways of Deception
Ale Jun 2020
You griped their shoulders,
Squeezed them tight,
Your grooming obvious
To the double glance.

I swallowed sharply
The tacks of guilt,
Mounted creeping
Showing on the board.

Your heavy stare
As she walks by,
I think of the word
That ends in “phile”.

Your vile intentions
Are wrapped around
A tight thin sheen
Of relating bands.

The coffee poisoned,
And water too,
With drops of degrees
That made you swoon.

You whispered softly
Into my ear,
I resisted from vomiting
The truth in clear.

Remaining silent,
I sat in class,
You resumed your dance,
And I kept my rage.

After your departure,
I shared my point of view,
Of way the you touched them,
They remained as fools.

Oblivious to the threat,
To conditioned ways,
In their innocence,
They enjoyed your game.
In your ways of deception
I take all the blame.

This poem is for Him.
Jun 2020 · 172
Ale Jun 2020
Never garnered any attention
From the ones that craved the angst,
For my figure didn’t move across the stage
Swaying flowers petals, blooming hands.

And my dancing never charming
Like the red light of the rose,
For I never rode upon horses,
Gliding swiftly through the snow.

And from my patchy, ashen face
Muddy, sepia eyes gave too much away,
Rivers flowing through emotion, no space,
For chaotic disarray messing your lake.

Never thought to think twice,
Gaze skipping over me like stones
Missing out on all the stories,
That the dreamer once thought of.
I’m unworthy of it all.
Jun 2020 · 87
What am I to do?
Ale Jun 2020
What will be of me,
when the day arrives,
and luggage packed
bids me farewell?
And off I go
into this brave new world,
and I’ll wander off.
Am I forever lost?
Or will I find what’s worth
my tears to shed?
And I can’t let go
of the bathroom floor
within comfort zone.
In approaching dawn,
will I cease my breaths?
Graduation day is one year away.
Jun 2020 · 106
Her Cold Body
Ale Jun 2020
Her grey skin blended, seamlessly,
against the sharp river rocks.
The careless eye would have missed,
if it weren’t for the red blood
that painted her angel wings.
Scene of rampant tears,
for the unsettling beauty it exuded.
Blue eyes piercing the soul
of the purple sky and high above.
“My love, my love!” Violently, he breathed,
for he had lost her long before,
before she stepped off concrete road,
the bridge the lovers called “Lenore”.
In this poem, I’m referencing or alluding to the lost love “Lenore” in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”. I took inspiration from it because of the way it romanticizes death, and I felt it would go well with the tone of this poem. I was also inspired by the song “Roslyn” by Bon Iver and St. Vincent.
Jun 2020 · 122
Ale Jun 2020
“Oh, my useless tries!”
I cry out into the night,
And the sobs fill the streets.
For I am unable to create
Anything that reaches
Your bones,
Nothing that touches
Your soul.
In your presence, I’ll always feel powerless.
Jun 2020 · 208
The Moon and The Wolf
Ale Jun 2020
They sang their song,
And the lonely wolf cried.

They sang their song,
And the cries rippled
Throughout the stars.

They sang their song,
And the pleas reached my ears.

I broke into a million pieces
Of shiny moon dust.

And as I flew to lay beside
My lonely wolf,
To Rest In Peace,
Beside my quiet love,
Their melody echoed on.

Throughout the night,
They sang their song
This poem is purely subjective, It can be whatever you want it to be.
Jun 2020 · 135
I’ll Be Your Home
Ale Jun 2020
The brightest eyes
of warming light,
cast their glow on my neck,
the place to rest
when your tired bones
scream out in pain.
When your song is low,
and the gleam is dull,
you can take a breath,
you can call me home.
Jun 2020 · 172
Keep Going
Ale Jun 2020
“Are those the best ones you have?”
He says with disgust in his eyes,
“That’s not what’s important”, I tell him back,
For these are the stories I tell with my heart.
If they are told with passion and love, than they are worth it.
Jun 2020 · 156
The Enemy
Ale Jun 2020
“What about me?”
I asked.
My whisper echoed
Against the glass.
The reflection
Whispered back,
“Never enough”.
I am my own worst enemy.
Jun 2020 · 89
Ale Jun 2020
My calculated steps
Echo against marble floor,
Endless series of fours
A failing attempt to tame.

Burning in my eyes,
Shifting curtains,
The knot tightens.
It’s hard to live with anxiety when I just want to sit still for a second.
Jun 2020 · 73
Ale Jun 2020
Does it still exist?
The invisible line that supposedly ties us together,
Haven’t felt in what feels like ages.
A glimpse into our thread,
Showed it’s shadow,
Flickering slowly against the light,
Running out of energy,
It has been gradually loosening up,
Throughout the years
It hasn’t left,
Just yet.
And I know it’s because of me,
You stopped trying
The minute the belt left a mark on my skin
Father and Daughter. *Sigh*
Jun 2020 · 790
Who am I?
Ale Jun 2020
My body disintegrates
in front of my own eyes
And I slowly flow into the air.

I can see everything from up here,
from the bigger image
to the tiniest of details
The wind carries me through towns,
parks and houses,
oceans and deserts,
through the lives of many.

I live vicariously through your life,
your problems are my problems,
your feelings my feelings.
You mold my shapeless existence
around yourself.  

I am the scary waves
fighting against each other,
I am the sun
that burns your skin,
I am the rain that soaks
through your clothes
and leaves you cold and lonely.
I am the sunset
that softly paints golden the afternoon,
the moon that shines where lovers meet,
the worn out,
brittle pages that fill your heart with joy
and make your mind wonder.
Im am everything that exists
and ever existed
and I am nothing at once.
I am an empty shell
Resting at the bottom
Of the lonely, dark ocean floor
I feel nothing,
I am no one.
I didn’t pay much attention to the structure of this poem, sorry. Unfortunately, I waste the majority of my time asking myself existential questions that are always detrimental to my mental health, and there are times where I feel like am nothing at all.
Jun 2020 · 255
The Creator
Ale Jun 2020
Oh, what a shameful thing it is,
The way your blood rushes through my veins,
The purest essence of a coward,
Creates resentment amongst the depths.

Denial upon denial spit out,
Those ***** words reek your mouth,
It impossible for you to feel higher,
Proudness proudly on display.

I’m merely just a puppet,
A pawn upon your game,
You wear my teeth on necklace,
You curse my name in joy.

Doubled-faced monster,
Entitlement owns you,
Once a good man,
Drowned in your own fantasy,

The raged boiled over fire,
Completely burned my skin,
But I can’t help but love you,
Oh, what a shameful thing.
Jun 2020 · 131
Summer Fantasy #2
Ale Jun 2020
The burning of my back,
The moisture in my skin,
The grass between my fingers,
The prickling in my chin.

The sun lightens my eyes,
I kiss your crimson lips,
Heat rises to your cheeks,
Your smiling just for me.
Another poem about a fictitious summer love.
Jun 2020 · 139
Summer Fantasy
Ale Jun 2020
The way
you swirl
the sky,
fire in
your eyes,
your toes
dig into
the grass,
the flowers
your hands,
the magic
of your
the tears
your cheeks,
the golden
light against
your skin,
you smile
at me,
and I
fall in.
Just fantasizing about a summer love. lol
Ale Jun 2020
A wish is
nothing but
a lie.
An intake
of air.
Keep it there.
Your own mind.
Let out
Your innermost
Into existence,
By a mere
The universe
Won’t go out of
Its way
To fulfill
The wanting
Of someone
That questions
Their own
An insignificant
I keep wishing and wishing for things to be different, but despite my efforts, nothing ever changes.

— The End —