Turvy-topsy,
Windwhirl
Up-down through the rabbit hole.

Mushroom tea-gardens,
"Eat me," "Drink me,"
The world is downside-up.

Clusterfucks of growing and shrinking,
Dum-Tweedle and Dee-Tweedle guide/block;
Cheshire's smile mocks from above.

Twisters, misters, no sisters.
Confusion reigns supreme.
OFF WITH HER HEAD!

Tiptoe with me through roads of mottled rainbows
We’ll build a city of coffee cream clouds and crystallized light
Our sticky shadows can stumble jump rope with fizzling stars
And our light will tang in the air with peace

Every streecorner will have an off-key symphony
Played with tongues broken from laughter
Raise your arms to catch the words that’ve ballooned into the stratosphere
I’ll tangle my fingers in your palm to lift you higher

You’ll collect liquid moon in a sandcastle bucket
Drips of silver catching in your spidersilk hair
I’ll pour it down all outside the doily mold
It’ll twist down to earth in fractured motion

Trust me, I never knew how to fly
Only to fall, and to fall with broken hands
Jump with me and skate down a sunset
Dorothy ain’t got nothin’ on this kind of color

I’m blinder than an arsonist with night vision goggles
But only ‘cause I see with my heart instead of reflections of light
Life is opaque when your soul is an old one
Though I’m still getting drunk on the learning wine

Take a rose and ***** a finger on a petal
The softest feelings always have the sharpest bite
The devil’s left the details to hammer her way up to heaven
She’ll shatter kaleidoscope bullets into mosaics of sin

Love is the game that all the best dreamers play
I think up slow nonsense that fills my lungs with longing
Bright towns are always blurrier than the grey
And my brush is shaky from absent disuse

So bring me home (my home is you)
Build love from the broken rubble souls
Sing for our voices reaching higher than the sun
As my hair links with yours in the summer breeze

Frozen bubbles can chime on every door
Our bare feet will press into wet desert clay
Smiles will be painted pure and golden
And all the colors will fill our footprints as we walk away in joy.

With patience he caressed my heart
His filthy hands gleefully left
Sticky black ink stains
He told me they would always remain

With determination I cut my heart out
My tainted hands painfully ripped
At blood filled sinew and muscle
I told him it would be like he never existed and grabbed a shovel

© 2013-2014 Peach

So the cold didn’t last beyond February, like how
You thought you could finish that poem in January.
Now you say you would for sure complete your list by April,
But you can’t even get yourself to make it through March.
And before you know it, June will ask you out for another date in school
And you’re still on vacation, playing games with May.
Then by August you’d be broken again,
And you’ll blame it all on July.
So you’ll laugh with your friends as you await October,
And hold on to excuses throughout September
Until you have December all to yourself once more,
To right the things you thought November could change.
But then it’s February waking you up in the morning again,
Knowing that you kept January up all night for
A new year’s resolution that is up to what only April can give
And March could never lend,
And you couldn’t buy on June
Because you invested it all on May,
Only to be double crossed by August,
And turned down by July when you ask for help.
So you place all your hopes on October
And refuse September’s offer
Because you trust December to be there for you
In case November leaves you on hold again.
Now it’s February calling for the last time, and you finally pick up.
You stopped dialing January for good
And you realize you don’t have to ring April too.
This time you know better, so you look forward to see March
And decide you’re no longer hiding from June
Because you plan to come to terms with May,
So by August you won’t look back anymore
And things will fit perfectly in July.
And when October comes, you won’t even notice it
Because you’d be so busy running through every day of September
That you will no longer remember how last December let you down
And how much November used to matter;
Because today you already know what February did not have to
Remind you and which you never actually needed January for.

"sumulat ng mga "paano kung" sa buhay ng isang tao
may mga pag-ikot o pagbabago sa mga konklusyon
sansaglit nguni't mahaba nung nilikha
may mga tainga sa mundong ito, nag nagkukusang-loob
bukas and mga palad at bukas ang mga labi akong tatanggapin
nangingibabaw sa kanilang isipan ang pagbating ito:
"Maligayang pagdating, Makata,
Sabihin mo sa amin..."

welcome poet, tell us....

Translated-for me by Sally, who welcomes everyone...

Just an an excerpt from http://hellopoetry.com/poem/615068/where-has-writing-gotten-me/