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Zemyachis Jul 2015
my home is welcome all my own go foreclose the banks so dance I yell bang pots and pans play christmas music in july forget using coasters eat all the food fry marshmallows with candle lighters set off smoke detector and no one knows no landlord can find no obligation to make the bed vacuum talk in the hallway put earplugs answer the phone can I yes come go as I please never a tagalong never pretend I don't live there I will be too honest and turn off the lights I will never be quiet I will jump on the couch cushions and bounce on the bed blow bubbles in tea and make a huge mess I can have anyone over whenever I like or no one at all I will never be careful. And in my house I don't cry into pillows.
Zemyachis Apr 2015
I leave you at the bus stop
half a wake in the wake of you drifting into distance
like this morning but I cannot tell if I am half a dream
when you are away
or half a living
but I definitely feel
like I am one half
Please be there when I wake up
Zemyachis Mar 2015
I see you reflected in the patterns I live in.
Like the universe reflects on it's own being, I observe you as best I can.
You are the magnetism to my electricity
The chemist to my essayist
The plus to my minus
The yin to my yang
Unlike charges attract
We take and give like
The symmetrical wings of a butterfly work to fly
You are my "otter" half
My universe within a universe
The ever swinging, spinning clock of interlocking grains of sand
in space.
Inner Space! Outer Space!
The atoms within your body, I live on
an electron that revolves around a piece of you, a precious star
needed for the very existence of life.
Zemyachis Oct 2012
by Ashley Capps

Ophelia, when she died,
lay in the water like the river’s bride, all pale
and stark and beautiful against the somber rocks,
her hair an endless golden ceremony.
She made the water sing for her; it flowed
over her folded arms.

Not so my father’s sister Karen,
swollen in a day-old tub of water
when they found her,
needle tucked into the fold of her arm,
her last thing: a wing.

So everything went as nameless as the men
who lifted her naked from the tub,
or those who rolled her
into the mouth of the furnace,
which is what you get
when you don’t get a service,
when your mother’s years of grief turn
last to rage: I won’t pay for it.
Leave me out of it.

And even though they finally said
it wasn’t suicide; a mistake—
no one knew what to do
with all of that anger,
or in the end how not to blame her.

Even now, in her unmarked container.

*


People once believed a deeper reason, some dark secret
motivation to the way the lemmings threw themselves
en masse into the sea. Were they weary
of their lives; could they, too, despair?
Or like those second-vessel swine
when Jesus exorcised two babbling men of their demons,
driving the demons through a pack of bewildered hogs—
the way they plunged?

The truth we know now: they leave when food is scarce,
when they’ve grown too many;
believe the roads they follow
lead to new meadows, a place to start over.

I think of Karen, feeding
and feeding her veins, how it is possible
she saw us all suddenly there—miraculous
and festive on some bright and other shore,
like the life she had been swimming toward
all along, trying to get right.
Like those sailors long ago,
that tropical disease, calenture—
when, far from everything they knew,
men grew sometimes delirious
and mistook the waving sea for green fields.
Rejoicing, they leapt overboard,
and so were lost forever,
even though they thought it was real, though
they thought they were going home.

—by Ashley Capps
Zemyachis Oct 2014
my heart is so full
it's bursting at the seams
I dont know how it happened
and i dont know what it means
but i think
we were all put here
for such a time as this
there's meaning to our living
there's a reason we exist
and I think that you
yes you
were meant to meet with me
that we were meant to cross our paths
and be changed gradually
you've made me into the person
who i am today
you've left your maze, your soul's fingerprints
on this person, on this clay
because we were there before we were born
and we never really die
because you can blow out a flame
but you can't shut out the light
and i will fight to show you
that you matter
that your smiles change the world
same as your tears
your wonderings
your pains turned into pearls
and I just wish i could say it all
in a single word
that I love you
that you're beautiful
like a shot heard 'round the world
people may forget
but once in a lifetime comets
still come around again
and you deserve to know that
you are precious
and that
you are my friend
Zemyachis Mar 2014
so noisily these nights
I cannot sleep
But when I put in earplugs
My heart beats just as loudly

shouldn't I be comforted
the presence of my friend's breathing
shouldn't I be glad
I'm alive, my heart's beating

but all I can think right now
is I wish we could sleep like the dead
and get some peace and quiet
in my weary leaded head
2:04 AM let's party. just kidding. *face plants into pillow*
Zemyachis Sep 2012
They Don't Shut Up.
fwit. fwit. fwit. fwit.
On the Asphalt or Sidewalk
They slip- like spit
I lost my flip-flops
they Tread
So thin.

9/26/12
Zemyachis Jul 2012
He knows the number of hairs on my head, and
Of the bright stars, each with a name such as Fred

He knows the history of each grain of sand
The liters in the sea today were already planned

And He knows how many times I have had a crush
He knows every secret, and every blush

He understands everybody, down to each little thought
The griefs that they suffer, the wars that are fought

He records every laugh and the width of each smile
He knows all my steps, yes, every mile

You name a thing, God knows the amount
My biggest point--- God sure can count.
2010
Zemyachis Sep 2017
at some queer second
         not quite between twelve and twelve
                    blue planet dust particles dream
                                suspend midair
                                 while sunbeams dance
                        across minute hands
                   in your eyes

            **** carpet melts into lush
       dark grass
      and azure electric runs across petals
         of daisies dipped in glass

                 air swims carelessly about in a tropical heat
                          and shimmers curiously like
                                  glitter in rain or
                                        paint splattered koi
                                                beneath oil spills

                                                   you stand at the
                                                      precipice to purple
                                                   infinity
                                       and curiously ask the darkness
                            "what time it might be"

                   soft words of loved ones
echo faintly in distance

       overhead
                    copper willows generously sprout
                         industrial light-bulbs
Maya Deren Salvador Dali Steampunk Coexist Environmentalism
Zemyachis Jul 2012
I want to go outside today
So I can feel the sun
To feel the wind blow stronger still
To go out and just run

I want to reach the blue cloth sky
To touch dew laden seam
I want to cross the old, grey stones
Which sparkle in the stream

I want white snow to dazzle down
To land right in my way
I want trees to grow, green to orange
Let leaves drift where they may

The caged bird was my company
But with its wings has flown
Its sole presence, now free again
Left me to sit alone

Dear sun, come through my window
Bright rays beam on my route
Ive opened up the door, so there!
Now I am going out!
2012
Zemyachis Mar 2014
hey! you with the face! look over here!




alright, now that I have your attention.




Carry on.
Zemyachis Jul 2012
I'm your personal superhero
Who fights crime each day
I patrol outside and watch the house
While you are away

I'll cheer you up when the day is grey
Get you up, and out to play

When days get mundane, lonely too
I'll be there to be with you

I may not wear a cape or tights
But I will still help fight your fights

If you're in trouble and lose you way
I'm made to guide, to wait, to stay

Then when the sun has gone down
I'll make sure you never frown

'cuz I'm your personal superhero ---
Your ever fluffy, one of a kind,
loyal and tail wagging dog
2010
Zemyachis Mar 2014
The tiniest tear slid down my face last night
Tucked in with darkness
And no one had to see

It was one-fourth melancholy  
Three percent nostalgia
Two-fifths wishing
Another quarter H2O
and point-zero-seven salt

I plan on running more tests on it tomorrow,

                                                   !  Because for the life of me

? I just can't quite pin down  

                      ... Why with the sunny weather-day I had ...


There was any precipitation.
will the scientific method help?

*/fəˈnäməˌnän,-nən/
a fact or situation that is observed to exist or happen, esp. one whose cause or explanation is in question.
Zemyachis Jul 2012
I wept seven tears
That I caught in my hand
Threw them up in the air
And now there they stand
Shimmering and sparkling, as fine in the sky
As they ever could have, inside of my eye
Zemyachis May 2013
Find a way
Each and every day
To remind me that you love me
Or else I will forget.

~
~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~*~
Zemyachis Oct 2019
Skin, soft and fragile as marigold petals
Bones thin as papier-mâché
Holding the shape of a person I love
Holding together our bodies of clay

Candles, dimming light behind the eyes
Weary wind slipping through parched lips
Sweet and weak the voice of a person I love
Spirit readying voyage on vanishing ships
All people are like grass, And all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.
Zemyachis Jun 2014
somebody slow dance with me
and don't say a word
there aint a thing needs to be heard
cept the sound of us being carefree
for that moment, when you are holding me
while listening to "I Can't Get Started" on sax, wishing you were here to make things easy and chill <3
Zemyachis Dec 2015
I like just want the big picture
float me faster through this sparkling void
I get tired of the same scenery
Zemyachis Mar 2014
tickity-clickity whirr went my father to set
the little merry-go-round musicbox by my bed
with its adorbsable mini-suction cups lining
purple porcelain tentacles
winding round and round
lulling gently with that nostalgic ice-cream truck tune
reminding me of sweet tang juicy mango slush
on a hot afternoon
where the posh-painted ponies fly by with the tide rising up and down
in a seaside villa of some spanish town
in all the grandness of their primary colors so carefully chosen to brush
at the command of a fairy princess with her crown gold-gilded
she's twirling whirling, a mechanical ballerina on springs
gracefully petite her frame, so small the sash on her shoulder
that slips in the breeze to catch the eye of a little soldier
in his regimentals properly fitted, buttoned in brass
a lass like me lovingly adoring bunnies in top hats and bow ties
spats on their feet to tap dance for me
in my dreams the never ending spin of a teacup party
the catch of a hook where the lullaby loses flight
but I'm already asleep with a kiss goodnight
Zemyachis Jul 2012
I saw a glass swan
Sitting on a glass lake
A step on that glass
My legs would quake

One look down,
I made the connection
What I saw
Was my own reflection

It was icy December
The snow was a' drifting
A solid ice layer,
The water was lifting

I turned 'round the swan
A beauty to see
All covered with ice
And frozen debris

A clue to the tale
Any detective would wonder
Subtle hints at design
A story was under

In that layer of ice
Two webbed feet in a vice

Glassy eyes admiring
A lovely swan's face
His own vain image,
This was the case

A sad lonely picture
Somber and Grey
So this was the price
That he had to pay

So much looking
Into the mirror
He wasted his life
Not seeing clearer
7/17/10
Zemyachis Jul 2012
There’s a place, where licorice vines have climbed,
Deep in the night, that only children can find;
Where leaves of waxed paper on trees are hung,
And what grows on the branches is sweet to the tongue.
Garlands of butterscotch, chocolate, and mint,
In their bright wrappers, sparkle, and glint;
Bubbling springs of sarsaparilla, through the valley are poured,
Washing sugar beaches with reeds of sour chord.
Swedish fish swim in soda geysers with bliss,
While fizzing pop-rocks spurt, spittle, and hiss.
Sunset clouds of cotton candy sweep past in the sky;
Trees sway in the delicious breeze that smells like apple pie.
Skies will rain down skittles, when there is a storm,
Pelting molasses window panes in a giant swarm;
Sour gummi worms are dug up, free to take,
In the grainy, nutmeg layers of the coffee cake.
Carmel creams, Mary Janes, Black Jacks, and Almond Joys,
Coconutties, Jawbreakers, Carmel Rolos and Long Boys--
All these grow, in lines straight as peppermint sticks,
Planted in brown sugar, on fields of cinnamon toothpicks;
But when the sun lets out its first ray,
The entire land just melts away
And children don’t remember where they’ve been,
That whole night asleep, but they wake with a grin;
And through the whole day, their dreams will entice,
Until they visit again, the Land of Sugar and Spice.
8/9/11
Zemyachis Jun 2021
I melt into a spool of dread
I mean pool of thread
I mean this dread, like thread,
was a neat spool and now it's a puddle
my noodle is muddled

let's try this again
my thoughts were neat, a spool of thread
but they unspun and tangled, a pool of dread
and the metaphors are lost in my head
which is also a noodle

if I take this needle
and untangle the thread
it may help wrangle my thoughts
and unstrangle my heart
Zemyachis Aug 2013
Born out of an unmarked grave
Molded from the dirt a slave
With eyes fumbling in the dark--

I feel

A sparrow trapped in my ribcage
My gifted little pressure gauge
Who though she pleads can't disembark

This vessel.

She pecks at my liver
convicts guilt while I shiver,
And ****** at my heart when I am numb.

I listen to her wings abeat
A flutter-***-drum so petite
It makes me wonder what I've become.

But a wimeywobbly found belief
I'm quite sure that time is brief
When unawares she'll break loose my chest

A treasure,

half a pretty penny for my soul,
Chamber unlocked, He paid the toll
Sparrow, my spirit...
                escape, you short-stayed guest
Stanza 1: references creation from the dirt, inherently a slave to evil with no clear sight or purpose
Stanza 2: introduces something not physical, a conscience of sorts that cannot leave the body
Stanza 3: as a person's spirit, the sparrow must convict wrongdoing (refers to prometheus's punishment and themes of pride/playing at God) and ***** the heart to empathy for others
Stanza 4: Somehow the sparrow has a connection to a person's fragile lifespan, causes soul searching
Stanza 5: the brevity of life is clearer and death is intertwined with liberation
Stanza 6: Matthew 10:29 "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care." Do the math. And know a soul is worth more than any regular cent, and the full amount has been paid to free it.  
Last line: Spirit and Body part as relatively short acquaintances
Zemyachis Jan 2015
What if I told you that your god is dead?
that supply and demand, economic forces
we trust more than the laws of physics
are not supplemented by a caring, Invisible hand?

That the holy scriptures, thin, green pages
in between the folds of a wallet
are no more valueable than this gum wrapper
blowing in the wind
Unless we all BELIEVE otherwise

Adam Smith said
"Many will enter, but few will win" -cite
What will give you a sense of purpose
or security when you try to sleep at night?

Everyone hope in the American Dream!
a capitalistic kushion to save you in your time of need
made of vapor to catch you when the stocks are falling
its appalling this heaven of prosperity
that depends on consuming more and more of the earth

Listen to The Economist's sermon
Watch how he reads the tea leaves
Will the Fed raise the interest rates this year?
We throw the dice and say our prayers.

All things work together for good
For those who love it.

Welcome to the worship of Mammon.
The question is not "are you are religious?" The question is "What do you have faith in?"
Zemyachis Mar 2015
Thomas said "Seeing is Believing"
But an optometrist knows that our eyes are like a sieve
Everything the light touches, Simba
Has been filtered by us before it reaches our brain
Unlike what we smell, unlike the sounds which beat into our
Tympanic membrane.

Why is it so hard to believe in what we cannot see?
If we know all perceptible colors, sounds, smells are not all that can be?
When we know that the lenses we wear over our retinas
Bend light to bring our vision into focus
And clearly see Mirages are not Water, but a Reflection of the Sky
It's hocus pocus to believe only what we can perCEIVE with our senses
When we hardly receive the world as it is.

The birds can see the infrared and ultraviolet
Snakes can taste temperature, and a map of your warm footprints
Dogs can hear ultrasound, like young children and deer pick
Up high-pitched frequencies whereas adults can no longer
See Santa Claus or Jesus or "Imaginary" Friends

Something about being human
Or maybe its just getting older,
Makes us too cynical and blind
To recognize rainbows and dark matter.

Ask the Giver to give me back my sight and feeling
Because I am reeling with the realization that I live
In a mere sliver of the Entire Spectrum
And can only contemplate it with a tenth of my mind.
Zemyachis Apr 2015
Rilled
as
  a Rose,
      Petals Painted                                                          ­    
            with Radio-waves                                        Billowing     ­       
                               amongst                   Bouquet of          Ballerinas,
                                         ­    a   Blossoming                                    Trailing
                                                                ­                                          New
                   ­                                                          stars                  Born
                                     ­                                and           Blushing
                                                             Foaming
                                                         ­           at their
                                                           ­                Skirts
                                                                ­              like
      wrapped                                                   ­ the      
up              like home,             Surf of the Sea
in her                    Doesn't it feel
     spiraling                                                        ­  Scented with
                arms?                                       of her sleeves,          warm
                     Sewn into       cotton fibers                                       cosmic
                                       the                                                              ­    latte?
                                                      ­                              uni-                         Oh,
                                                                ­          entire      verse             before
                                                          ­               our                                   we
                                                                ­                was                  grew  
                     ­                                                                 ­  She  // taller
In honor of the 25th anniversary of the launch of the Hubble Space Telescope, named after a man who calculated the distance to our nearest neighbor galaxy, leading us to see for the first time that the Milky Way was not the entire universe.
Zemyachis Oct 2014
Lost in
     communication.
       Let  your  aim be
>>>==steady === for==once you ===>
          loose your lips,
    the interpretation
       is out of your
     hands.
If you hit a window, retrieving your arrow does not undo the damage, so make each word count. #peacemeetingproblems
Zemyachis Aug 2014
Someone gave me a time machine
wrapped up in a bow,
a gift, they said, to take me
wherever I'd like to go

I said I'd like to see the past
and a man, quite old and grey,
sat me near him, as he told
how it was for him one day

then I said I'd like to change
the course of history
and I was made to answer a child's
questions on life and liberty

that is immortality
to gather years gone by
to take up others' wisdom
and leave something behind

that is how to alter fate
and stitch up what's to be
make ripples in time's fabric
with a touch of destiny

from HERE we reach what is behind
from NOW we shape the world
it is this moment that defines
all that will be unfurled

Someone gave me a time machine
its door and limits unknown
but I know that I am in it
and I know it is HERE
Zemyachis Mar 2014
~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~

My first love, so soft and steady
When did you become so frail
Since the veil I lifted from your morning face?

When did that constant heart of yours
Wane and flicker in the dale
Your cheek pale as a brush of garter lace

That pocket watch I forged with love
To last a lifetime give it here
Though I fear to play at God, I need more time

Marilyn, drink your tea and sleep
Worry not what I do with fire, with brass
This will pass pumping cogs in motion all a-chime

Now

Let me rest my head upon your chest
Listen intent to the rhythm
Of you still here with me

I cannot hold fate off forever but

Hold me dear, at least a little longer
Before you go.


tick. tock.
.••♪ღ♪••.¸¸¸.•¨(¯'’•.¸(♥)¸.• ’´¯)¨•.¸¸¸.••♪ღ♪••.
Robert Koffler Jarvik, M.D. (born May 11, 1946) is an American scientist, researcher and entrepreneur known for his role in developing the Jarvik-7, the first successfully implemented artificial heart. This artificial heart sustained the first patient 112 days, the second, 620. He is not a watchmaker, but his wife's name is Marilyn.
Zemyachis Jan 2015
Affirmative. I’m opinionated. Just imagine I’m every confident, intellectual woman that you’ve ever hated. You must be faded: the smack you talk, you deserve to be berated. Son, I’ll spank you back to your upbringing like yo mother should have!

Girl you’re brilliant, but when they treat you like an acquisition, come behind your desk and ask what’s your favorite position.
ANSWER, ANSWER:     C. E. O.!                  “you **!”
You know they say “I’m sick of your complaining” and “snap this ***** is crazy. Oh ****! She must be MEN-STRUATING!”

You’re disrespectful to the *****. Positively shady. Boys will be boys that language is fitting for them to call you but not for a LAY-DEE. When all you see on a woman is ******* and ***** - Hey! We are not passes to your manhood. looks down  Your ego is inflated with superficial currency           “manpoints!”    
You need to treat women like **** to have any value? Well you got a sentence slated. “Female, don’t say those things, forbid they feel EMASCULATED!” Well you made this sandwich.   And now you have to eat it.             “beat it!”

Don’t treat me like an object. I reject how you project your gender roles on me they’re only fiction. Man, I hate to tell you but my life is in MY OWN jurisdiction. You better be grateful I chose the restraining order, yet you’re still pushing the border.                                  
                       ­                                      “Get outta my business!”

Don’t touch me, bro, I’m close to the edge. Me and my homies gonna push you off this ledge.
As for the rest of you,
Yea I know you’re afraid to give me power, know imma tower over you and win this battle like Eisenhoooower.

So be wary of the toxins you provide to this chemist
Cuz she’ll stir them into a weapon, release the angry FEM IN IIIIST!
Zemyachis May 2013
Sitting in the after-sun of a chair freshly rained on
Just starting to dry
Wet jeans, who cares, it's nice out
I'm going to read about Odysseus
And all his series of unfortunate events.
I was at the part in the underworld where
all the souls are drinking the blood offering and
giving their past-life histories
When I heard a crinkling,
And peering under the table, saw
a red squirrel (the kind only those who hate non-native species can truly dislike with a passion)
shuffling a cumbersome
brown candy, a milky way
in his handsome claws,
Whiskers twitching as he munched,
Like bouncing eyebrows,
Stuck with
Strands of chewy caramel.
He clutched at his high-calorie treasure,
spitting out gold and silver foil,
black, beady eyes, glistening greedily
as if to say "My precious"
Till he snatches up the last crumble
of chocolate.
I've sat watching-still so long
He approaches my foot
At which I call him a fat little squirrel
And he runs off, indignant
Leaving behind,
His
Desecrated Christmas package.
Zemyachis Jul 2012
Tyger, Tyger,
            burning bright
Like a lantern in the night
Who prowls slowly in the dark
Leaving not a single mark
He growls gently in the deep
Sighs to entertain some sleep
Shape and silhouette undefined
But are doubtless in my mind
To belong to that one creature
With strip-ed face and whiskered feature
Eyes that pulse and glow untold
Simmering with melted gold
As they stare and scrutinize
From mighty haunches he does rise
His massive paws and gleaming teeth
His dark lips will soon unsheathe
Like gleaming daggers polished white
Smiling bold in deep delight
Of finding company this late hour
Some small snack soon to devour
His body tense with animation,
Tail flickering with agitation
A coiled trap that’s set to spring
With a jolt and sudden fling
He jumps and runs past in a slur
Former countenance in a blur
Sprinting round with crazed emotion
Faster he spins in frenzied motion
‘Till the Tyger seems to vanish
As if some unseen force did banish
And all that remains is golden honey
Smooth and sweet, the color sunny
I gasp at this mysterious change
A curious sight, awing and strange
I ponder, profound in meditation
Wondering of next morning’s salutation
If this is all that it will take…
To drizzle on my next pancake
02/08/11
Zemyachis Jan 2013
I'm hitting my head against a tree
Because nothing is how I wish it would be
I'm cold 'cuz it's winter
Hope I don't get a splinter
You can find me here next spring
Zemyachis Mar 2013
Aaaa
       aaaa
                   aaah…
Little Claire’s last words before she went
Turned phantom, lost forever from the touchable world
I know her as the ghost who hides in the kitchen cabinets,
Haunting our tea saucers,
And other good china…
Unable to cross over that fine river
Searching, incomplete, she is
Unsatisfied in some way
If only she could remember why

I am forgetful too
Mother is mad at me
I didn’t dust the cabinet linings
Like she asked
But Claire is so grateful, because I forgot
Just long enough, for the dust to
Gather
What she left unfinished,
A simple sneeze,
She really didn’t have a clue.

Finally…
Choo!
No more unfinished business.

*God bless you, Claire.
I don’t look to the cabinet,
I know she’s not there. =)
Zemyachis Jul 2012
Strange
      dreams develop (dark to vibrant)
                  film strip stripes of
                                   run
                                       ning
                                              water

                                 nt
                             ou   ai
in the v     y  of m          ns----
            alle
                                                        to whet
                                                            the faucet

                                            of
                                            my
                                            lips
                                  
unbidden
   falling---
                       chatter,
                            secrets,
                                  mercies,

Like discarded jewels,
mumbled in half sleep.

7/4/12
Zemyachis Feb 2015
Sometimes I wonder...
Will I leave anything on this earth when I die?
Besides candy wrappers and crumpled pieces of notebook paper?
Zemyachis Jul 2012
Oh! Remember that time with the guy in the place?
He had a blue jacket, the one with the face?
We were walking some street, on a simple quest,
To find chicken nuggets, and a place to rest
We had just watched a tape, oh what was it called?
The guy had blond hair or brown? Or, was he bald?
People were jamming around the subway station
I wish I could remember, **** conflagration!

Or that other time, when we tried to surprise,
But clever you would already surmise
And we searched every crevice, of that jungle-y zoo
While lil’ wandering kinds came up to you
Because you had a cool t-shirt and we did not
I shall always remember that very spot.

Or that average day, specifics I’ll not say
That we were doing some papier-mâché
And days, or weeks, or months, or later
When, you had a dream about an alligator
(it was actually a crocodile)

I brought you a present, ever so small
And with a knife, shiny and tall
We designed a marvelous work of art
Who could imagine that it would explode apart?

Or that other afternoon, we spent in the prickers
Jumping over annoying brown stickers
And tossing around a-- , I’ll say no more
Who would care, we weren’t keeping score
As red, yellow, orange were falling from above
Because we made them with a shove
And bagels and comics were lying around
As TV commercials played in the background

Hey, remember those times when we were so little
At the front desk, my head came up to the middle
When there were only “original” Pokémon
And you had a different house and lawn
I miss our games of trust, they were lots of fun
When all that we did was laugh and run

I remember drinking tea in the outside air
And sitting in a big red van praying for God us to spare
I recall “Sand” and flairs and quote
As we were digging our pirate moat
I enjoy our profound discussions and your denial
Of us doing anything but homework, while
We **** each other in the asphalt road at night
Act ridiculous in all the sight
Of people at Food Max, and you are jealous
Of old guys jogging, what befell us?

When Catherine is dancing with Russians and hasn’t energy to type
I will mumble under my breath and force her to skype
I know we both suffer without her sarcasm, bright
Your melodious tone is absent where you guys used to fight
Ah! Fond remembrance of backstage flashes
Of hairspray stiff wigs, sticky floors, and sweat on mustaches

Some day we will look back on all we have done
And think of each smile, each day under the sun
We’ll tell horrid stories to all of our kids
Of hiking through snow, eating rocks and some twigs

Somewhere, in that place, where there is no time,
There still is no Starbucks to spend our dime
But I think that now will be better than then
If we only can forget the “how” and “when”

There is no one but God who gets you and me
For who would subscribe to our philosophy
As we laugh half an hour over a crime just planned
Or a stupid movie that we watch “On Demand”
I think to myself, as red eyes fill with pus
That no one else thinks quite like us.
11/13/10
Zemyachis Nov 2014
I saw a brown boy in Mexico
couldn't have been more than eight years old
he was wearing jean overalls, face covered in ash
using an axe to chop up the wood of his burned down home
helping his father make room to build anew

we said we're giving away clothes
can you take us to the center
of this shantytown
he said sorry no, I have to work

so his smiling little sister waved to her mom
and said cheerfully, I can give you directions
as she sat next to Sister Jodi in the van and led the brigade
I looked out the back window and saw that little man
still focused,
chopping.
Zemyachis Oct 2012
My heart is a well of ink.
The deeper you reach, the farther you sink.
And all it seems is black
                                     black
                                         black.

But the sky is so soft and pink.
Take me down to the ice skating rink
And all I ask is hold me back
                                               back
                                                   back.

Look,
My heart sticks yours like
black, black tar...
pink bubble gum

10/6/12
Zemyachis Apr 2015
spearmint moonbeam
green tea ice cream
sunset star rise
tarantula to tantalize
I fly fleeting
redwoods bleeding
coffee skeletons
scattered husks
of human beings
twisted darkened
dried out seedlings
pick me

and make me like
spearmint moonbeams
green tea ice cream
ground up chocolate
rich and seeping

— The End —