Avondale Kendja

Avondale Kendja May 2015

In the next second, one eye closed...
A body was planted
On our street.

We're all so busy, and petty, and in a huge rush.

In a different light, the life turned purple,
and than black.
It stays black, until washed away
  by the same people who take out our
  trash.
It makes me wonder
  Are all of our imminent corpse just garbage
  waiting to be picked up?

#loss #irony #bruiser

Avondale Kendja May 2015

May 6

Did he know, when it was too late?
Did he have the cliqued flashbacks
of his life behind his eyes, or
   Did he fly?

If he did, did he see God and all of His angels,
or did he meet Lucifer's delighted grimace?
Did he get a tiny glimpse of that ***** we like to call Fate, if there's such a thing?
Who ever gave him his spirit brutally took it away this day and left behind  Prometheus' signature.

What do we, mere mortals, do with these
  remnants?
They only serve to deny the rest of us the spirit that was born through blood, tears and pain,
   yet absent of trauma.

By June 6, he will be but a memory
  To all but a few.
Through self talks and guidance,
The rest of us revert back to our selves.
But for those few,
  nothing will ever be the same.

#loss #blood #tragedy #irony

Avondale Kendja May 2015

Countdown

36 hours...
  Hanna called out to her friend Jory at
8:00am
  She walked ther ten year-old brother to school at
9:30am
  Afterschool, she hung out with her multiple friends and rode the train to Central Park,
  She arrived home at
12:00 am
  and her father soundly beat her.
  Understandably.

24 hours...
  Hanna skipped the first two classes and arrived at school at
11:49 am
  She made out with her first boyfriend, Marcus, behind the dark school   stairs during lunch.
  Than, at
1:46 pm
  during Calculus, Angela, her best friend, subtly slipped
  some **** into her knockoff bag.
  At
10:35 pm
  Hanna fell asleep reading Hamlet.

12 hours...
  Hanna found out Angela was in a serious street accident yesterday, but she had made it.
  Yet, she decided no to visit and go to school
  solving Angela's problems for her.

30 minutes...
  Hanna broke up with Marcus and went back to those same stairs to think.

15 minutes...
  She picked herself up, but left behind her knockoff.

2 minutes...
  She decided not to pickup her brother.

Almost...
   There...
      Instantaneously.

Now Hanna exists only in our minds,
only to really live through my mouth.
Where she was last, her toes were bare,
her knees bent.
A classic diver's pose;
arms out.
  A perfect splash, barely caused a ripple.
The audience, a monarch, flitting through and quiet.

#in #gone #instant #an

Avondale Kendja Apr 2015

The Costs of Living

Fear turns into habit, and then turns into fear again.
He can't not love him, or anyone, he loves him, for they will talk and crucify him.
She won't stand up for the girl who is ridiculed every day.
They won't speak up, for fear of being treated the same way.
Those kids won't ever speak, because they are trying to survive,
  and it is all an endless cycle
Of fear, deceit, habit and regret.

What happened to the victims of survival?

The person he loved never forgave him, and went away to be happy,
  without him.
The girl was found under the local creek
  because it was too much,
simple.
And the mother ends up underground, buried alive.
  Her voice is gone and it never happened,
a memory.

What is survival when others, and yourself are gone forever?
We end up losing ourselves
  and what truly matter.
We end up alone.
Swimming in regret and pain, while others live.
We could have been happy.
Safer.

The consequences of fear, whether for the victim or "survivor".

#fear #loss #suffering #regrets

Avondale Kendja Apr 2015

It Ends With A Cycle

You used to hold me in the springtime,
When the flowers bloomed and everything was
  colorful.
We shared scilla bulbs to express what we escaped,
  but now I found out there was a different kind of pain.
You used to hold my hand in the springtime.

It's an endless cycle to shift through the memories
Of your softness and iridescence;
After it rained, I loved to sit and
  watch you mature into brilliance.
You loved to watch me watch you;
Everyday was a performance, and
You used to hold my hand in the springtime.

Frantically, I searched through the unsavory moments
  to find what was missing,
For we wouldn't have parted otherwise.
Of, course, it was all for nothing,
  since you left and took away the flowers.

You used to exist. I used to live.
Now the red, green, and yellow leaves fall.
You left me with no choice
   but to wonder, and wonder, and remember.
Did you ever exist?

This is another obsession themed poem, but it isn't a villanelle.

#lovelost

Apr 2015

William Butler Yeats

The Sorrow of Love

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the trouble of her laboring ships,
And all the trouble of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.

Avondale Kendja Apr 2015

Yes, We Are Perfect

His flesh and her flesh in a volcanic dance
The rest of them, next in line obviously and aware, become a collective watcher;
Perfection, they cannot be next; her left to chance.

They only watched the now, the yellow fog distancing them; perchance
The girl was just a bit older, or had killed the diseased satyr---
His flesh and her flesh in a volcanic dance.

Do it this way, no that way! I did, I did! We did our fruitless prance.
Everything is calm, but it is never, ever over, and it never will be; I am my own hater.
Perfection, they cannot be next; her left to chance.

Nothing really bad ever happens due to his expert use of the whip against our backs and lance
Against the pustules, except I lost who I could’ve been in my life. Later
His flesh and her flesh in a volcanic dance.

It was a love and hate story of our generation’s history, a true romance.
The victor got to change the meaning, the purpose and we became “innocent” bystander---
Perfection, they cannot be next; her left to chance.

They floated in the fog, the young ones. I watched their self-induced trance,
She wasn’t perfect, so of course they didn’t want to be her.
His flesh and her flesh in a volcanic dance.
Perfection, they cannot be next,; her left to chance.

lots of symbolism, hint, hint

— The End —