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Liliana Lopez Nov 2017
I wonder: should I try
Suicide
Again just to
Get your attention?
Liliana Lopez May 2017
Seize the day, he said
Grasp it in your hands
But my hands are small
I said, jokingly.
He replied
Grab a small day then

A winter day...
Winter days are shorter
I can only seize
A cold, desolate day I mused
You could write a poem
About that he told me

I'm trying... but it
Is a concept so perfect
How do I craft it
In to beautiful writing?
Ah yes... the whispers
"One such as you is
Not made for happiness"

How then to seize a day,
A single beam of sunshine?
It runs through my fingers like sand.
How to lay hold on such beauty?
Yet they tell me "dream big".
Small days for a small child
Cold days for a cold heart
No, can't hold much more.
Than an icy day;

How fit to numb the mind
And **** the soul!
I shall seize the day
The cold, desolate day
When the leaves are fallen,
When the earth is dead
THIS day shall be mine
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
In a Cimmerian wood has my soul been hung,
The war long lost, the church bell rung
Declaring the verdict, her fate.

The day was warm, yet all my soul was frozen
She's just another heart, broken
A noose, in a gloomy wood, hell...

Swaying, my feet dangling off the ground...can't move
They say her form it does behoove
To be eternally silenced.

Whispering... How lovely to be dying there
Just another girl in a snare:
Another loose, fallen woman.

To my innocence i did testify
They knew her soul breathed only lies
Mute, taking all these false charges.

I can't, can't breathe at all: Love, take me to thee!
Save me from this Cimmerian tree.
You stand, a veil blurring your view.
Liliana Lopez Apr 2017
Please tell me.
What will there be when you are gone?
And when the world forgets ....
Who
Who shall be the hearth in the cold?
When we can only see stainless steel,
Tall and proud
Cursed by innovation
When we are obsolete
Who will carry the frail bones
That they might collect dust?
Echoes only shall remain
when poets have been killed
Liliana Lopez Apr 2017
My mother has a dead rose
Long dead
Next to my father's portrait.
And, my one,
Next to the corpse of love
Has Memory too
Withered, faded.
As if my caresses have
Drowned the reminiscence
I am a dead rose
Long dead
lying by your portrait.
My soul, my life has slowly left
Only dry petals, sensitive to the touch
So they crumble with every breath
Next to my corpse
Has your love
Withered, faded.
Liliana Lopez Apr 2017
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Yes it is in Fahrenheit 451
Liliana Lopez Feb 2018
Are you still who I knew?
Or a stranger, a star too lofty to
Be reached?
I am earth bound and
You are ever a voyager
Into the great unknown.
Liliana Lopez Jul 2017
When fantasies deviate so far
From the truth
The lies you tell yourself
So vivid that they become
A separate reality,
You have already fallen
Down into the precipice
And eaten of the Forbidden Fruit.
Only to awake after The Fall.
Liliana Lopez Dec 2018
He was five. Tilting the broken piece of glass
just so, he caught the light of the sun
Like the most adept of mathematicians
(as we would later know him to be).
He honed it, empowered it,
Focused it on the small insects before him;
they shriveled, peeled,
Blazing on the hot sands of Alexandria,
An ashen pile of ants, subjects and witnesses
To geometrical genesis
On the hot sands of Alexandria.
Liliana Lopez Nov 2017
Will my words suffer under the whip?
A lash, a word, a beating
Equates a phrase.
A back,  smarting beneath
The consequences of leather; and
"You weakling. I'll teach you
What pain is. I'll show you."
I am
Writing under the influence.
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
I hear words, lovely words
But they are falsities
When they speak, it is
Not to me but to a fantasy
An illusion...
Yet I can't write poetry
It is a falsity when I call myself
A poet
And all the eventide I keep these words
In my heart; a song played on the lute
Of the winds, a whisper echoed by the sea
These are your words to me....
Though they are only imagined.
Your love to me is a fantasy
My image to you is a falsity
How then could these be tokens
of pyrite?
Liliana Lopez Apr 2018
She came in
Like the Mongolian horsemen
With little or no regards for
The condition of my heart.
Her far-reaching love pillaged
Every corner of me, quieting
My songs:
My happiness blurring into grief.
Now I know she was right,
Now I know I can trust her,
She always knows what’s best.
A bleeding heart is a small price
To pay for such an amazing love;
She watches me, I’ve buried
My emotions so deep they’ll
Never meet her gaze.
I am dizzying and spiraling
Into the insensitive grasp
Of her eyes, my sensitivity
Taking me places I never thought I’d be. Everywhere you find me
You find not me but harlequins
Grotesquely painted to hide my pain.
I
Liliana Lopez Apr 2018
I
I do not know where I am going
But I do believe I am going to crash.
Liliana Lopez Dec 2018
I first saw it a month before he died,
When we took my father on
A drive through his high school town.
Thornton
We listened to the Shirelles
On the way, driving through vineyards
And dusty dirt roads. In Thornton,
Grapevines wither because it is cold,
The December ice too fresh, too biting
For their youthful leaves, and they die,
Brokenhearted for the flight of youth and sun.
Liliana Lopez Aug 2017
"Whose heart was breaking for a little love."

Down-stairs I laugh, I sport and jest with all:
        But in my solitary room above
I turn my face in silence to the wall;
        My heart is breaking for a little love.
                Though winter frosts are done,
                 And birds pair every one,
And leaves peep out, for springtide is begun.

I feel no spring, while spring is wellnigh blown,
         I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:
Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone,
        My heart that breaketh for a little love.
         While golden in the sun
        Rivulets rise and run,
While lilies bud, for springtide is begun.

All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts
         Beat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof:
They cannot guess, who play the pleasant parts,
         My heart is breaking for a little love.
                 While beehives wake and whirr,
                 And rabbit thins his fur,
In living spring that sets the world astir.
I deck myself with silks and jewelry,
         I plume myself like any mated dove:
They praise my rustling show, and never see
         My heart is breaking for a little love.
                 While sprouts green lavender
                 With rosemary and myrrh,
For in quick spring the sap is all astir.

Perhaps some saints in glory guess the truth,
         Perhaps some angels read it as they move,
And cry one to another full of ruth,
         "Her heart is breaking for a little love."
                 Though other things have birth,
                 And leap and sing for mirth,
When spring-time wakes and clothes and feeds the earth.

Yet saith a saint: "Take patience for thy scathe";
         Yet saith an angel: "Wait, for thou shalt prove
True best is last, true life is born of death,
         O thou, heart-broken for a little love!
                 Then love shall fill thy girth,
                 And love make fat thy dearth,
When new spring builds new heaven and clean new earth."
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
You are no longer by my side, love
In my soul there only remains solitude.
If I can no longer see you,
Why did God make me love you,
If it makes me suffer more?
YOU were always the reason
For my very existence
To me, adoring you
Was my religion.
In your kisses I discovered
The warmth, the love
Of your passion.
This is the story of a love
Unlike any other
Your love made me comprehend
All good, all evil.
It gave light to my life,
Only to later extinguish it.
The story of a love
So different from all others.
Then, I understood all
Good and all evil.
Your love illuminated my life,
And then dissipated.
A dark and obscure life...
Without your love I cannot exist.
This is the story of love.
Trio los Panchos and Pedro Infante both sing this, both are unique and great in their own way.
Liliana Lopez Sep 2017
You only need two points
To draw a linear function.
2 points
                  of reference...
From this you can derive the equation
y=mx+b
And the line goes on forever, never
wavering or changing and
2 events can predict the
                   future behavior of the graph
When it is linear.
I have you and another, I've tried twice
2 events and 2 points.
You do not love me,
                  I loved
Another took our friendship for more:
                   I feel more.
But that does not matter, at the end
I was in pain, twice I miscalculated yet
I'm good at math, shouldn't I see the
                    pattern now?
Now I draw a line on the graph
That goes on for infinity.
Liliana Lopez Aug 2017
I nursed it in my ***** while it lived,
I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved
Alone and nothing said.

I shut the door to face the naked truth,
I stood alone—I faced the truth alone,
Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth
Till first and last were shown.

I took the perfect balances and weighed;
No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise;
Weighed, found it wanting: not a word I said,
But silent made my choice.

None know the choice I made; I make it still.
None know the choice I made and broke my heart,
Breaking mine idol: I have braced my will
Once, chosen for once my part.

I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold,
Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live.
My heart dies inch by inch; the time grows old,
Grows old in which I grieve.

II

I have a room whereinto no one enters
Save I myself alone:
There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
There my life centres.

While winter comes and goes—oh tedious comer!—
And while its nip-wind blows;
While bloom the bloodless lily and warm rose
Of lavish summer.

If any should force entrance he might see there
One buried yet not dead,
Before whose face I no more bow my head
Or bend my knee there;

But often in my worn life's autumn weather
I watch there with clear eyes,
And think how it will be in Paradise
When we're together.
Liliana Lopez Apr 2018
There is another tear in the lining of my mind
and my sanity is dripping out.
Liliana Lopez Aug 2017
head throbbing, no pop in my ear,
Or iPhone in my hand,
sitting on the steps of the third floor.
We sit together, after hours, in
the C wing halls
because you don't like books.
Beige tile meadows, sprinkled
Here and there
With wildflowers left by youth:
Doritos, Pepsi, lunch trays.
The brick sky overhead,
Gleaming with Edisonian sunshine.
We read the funnies,
Featured weekly on staircase rails
And bathroom stalls in Sharpie, we
Listen to rap in Cantonese and Korean,
Knowing that the open fights,
The stolen kisses, the dress code strictures
Are transient; what we'll remember
Is these walls and these rails
Breathe our lives, our thoughts,
Echoes our minds
Liliana Lopez Jul 2017
I do not rebel against you.
My faith is deep in my soul,
But, my Lord, I don't feel you
Anywhere...
Do you ever see me, hear me,
Do my cries ever make a ripple,
Even one, in the pool of Your infinity?

My mother, I do rebel.
How could I ever understand,
How could I ever hope
That you would see me?
The very air that stirs in my lungs
Even this is different from yours.
Please tell me why...

Am I defiled when I speak,
Or, have I sinned beyond redemption?
I know it is not so....I do not rebel.
And you, my mother, called me loose
When I breathed three immortal words
I love you
And I am no longer chaste when warm fingers encircle my own.
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
Our love is so special,There is just none like ours...
what we hold is a truth; others can only hope for it
You sleep with me always.... each and every night..
you're always so quiet, hold no reproaches... make no remaks.
That's why I love you and no one could love you more than I...
You are my only treasure, my love for you has no measure

Sometimes when I come home drunk with anguish
you let me come close to you ......we kiss and embrace softly
But you fall fast asleep... and you dont feel a thing...
I Still hold you close to me... and sleep with you tightly
But later when I awake... you are no longer with me..
And only my pillow is there
Sometimes when I see you...... so quiet and lonely...
That's when I break down... and become like any other...
I wanna cry out to you My Love I want to beg you
" please come back to me"
my whole breath and soul is meant just to keep loving you...
But my time keeps passing my cries and pains forgotten...
Like the wind they keep blowing.... forever lost and stolen..

That's why when I come home......drunk with anguish
you let me come close to you ......we kiss embrace softly
But you fall fast asleep..... and you dont feel a thing...!

I Still hold you close to me and sleep with you tightly..!
But later when I awake you are no longer with me..
All am left with is just my pillow
Forever only my pillow
this is the english translation of the song Almohada (pillow) by jose jose
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
Psyche--the soul
In a wave of abstract art
Living in one infinite painting
of dizzying swirls
The soul? It
Frolics in its hallucinations
In its nightly hallucinations
Dreams that don't come true
They are only in
MY
     MIND
A vague psychedelia is this life
Because I walk, and I hear you
Calling my name
I fall asleep in what to me
Is your arms
In actuality only emptiness.
In the uncertain blur between
Sleep and Wake, I
am FALLING
from my dreams
I feel everything rushing past me
As I fall and I feel pain, out of breath
When I crash,
Fell from my bed, yet I landed
There as well.....And my eyes open
Wide with shock.

The spiders crawl all over me
And I am afraid, those nights I
CAN'T SLEEP
When you were here, you would
Comfort me, your words would
hold me, so close, so tight
And all my fear was gone,
Only love, your love, my love,
OUR LOVE.
But it is gone.
So I feel them alone.

Abstract painting...
I live there! Where all the
Colors blur, I can't even name them.
It makes my head hurt, my heart,
My very SOUL feel an icy chill.
You, my love, are no longer here
To melt my winters.
So all my symphonies,
My poems, HUMANITIES
Are kept to myself now;
They are alone.
And I live in psychedelia.
Liliana Lopez Sep 2018
The prayers that go unanswered
The texts that go unread
In the silence, dead silence,
of Night.
Liliana Lopez Sep 2018
the concept of terror is
laying awake at night,
not knowing when they'll come for you.
It is like God scooping up handfuls of
ocean. Terror is cowering
behind a sheer curtain, knowing
that all but the end is near.
Liliana Lopez Apr 2017
And then Holden got so depressed that he wandered around
Looking for someone to talk to: piano
Players, dumb girls, a young
*******, Catholic
Nuns. But he didn't find anyone
In these dark hours
I always feel like that
I guess that means they should
Put me in the mental
Hospital too.
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
Clock, don't mark the hours...
It is maddening!
She will leave forever
When morning comes again.
This is the last night we have
To live our love
And your ticking ever reminds me
Of my irremediable pain.
Clock, detain your path,
For my life is ending!
She is the star that
Illuminates my life.
Without her love, I am nothing.
Hold time in your hands,
Make this night perpetual
So that she will never leave me;
So that we won't ever wake up
From this dream,
Clock don't mark the hours...
I am truly going mad.
sung by Trio los Panchos, Luis Miguel
Yes it is the one from the Selena movie "clock don't mark the hour 'cause I'm going nuts"
Liliana Lopez Nov 2018
High noon, a day
Awash in gold, basking in sun and
The leaves more golden t
Than anything Midas ever touched.
While mothers and children and dogs
Chase each other in a park
While lovers kiss and are kissed,
She sits in the space
Made empty by all the love around her.
Liliana Lopez Nov 2017
If the whole world be tremors that shake my soul
And thou my only shelter, I run
To where you surround my every inch
Where our hearts entwine in ways that bodies cannot.
Your eyes are not windows to your soul,
But a bridge to your mind: I cross, I am there;
let us commune with words that overturn instituted love.
Every breath is your soul's fluttering wings,
Every heartbeat an attempt to break out
From its ****** cage.
I am not captured in your arms,
I am freed, for my heart speaks
To yours with truer words
That overflow from my lips, in a kiss
They mix with yours to consummate
The galaxies of our embrace
And the world shaketh not.
Liliana Lopez Jun 2017
Our time has passed away.
The flower has wilted,
No longer fluid, fresh.
Flowers left by lovers
Who are long cold, dead.
The red of spilt blood
Has bleached love white, white roses
Pain subsidizes not in action,
But in the thought
Of a thousand sounds pounding
In the cold damp.
It reeks of carnage.
War, you have left a void:
A blank in hearts.
How to wander aimlessly
Being neither here nor there?
Liliana Lopez Aug 2017
You assumed I had erred.
And, while it is human
To assume, why did you?
Perhaps it is because
I am a teen
And we are all the same anyways.
Liliana Lopez Jun 2017
If you had lived, would the sun rise any different?
Or would the stars gleam any more, any less?
If you had lived, would the winds cease to blow, to cry?
No.
But if you had lived, I would rise, I'd be your blinding star,
A whirlwind to upheave and change the world!
If you had lived.
Not a dead promise of a daughter
A sliver of what you were.
Papá, si aún vivías, ¿estuvieras orgulloso de mi?
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
Close to midnight
I sit waiting
Waiting
Waiting for you
But you never come
I've spent the last 2 days
Hoping for today....
You said you'd come!
Hoping for you
Every breath an eternity
But you have forgotten
Liliana Lopez Aug 2017
What does it mean
When the person who's supposed to love you the most
Hurts you the most?
Please comment on what you think about this.
Liliana Lopez Mar 2017
How? That all have tasted of love but I
Las delicias del amor en sus bocas
Yet they drink of it greedily,
Unsparingly, as if it were water;
Not realizing the Aegean nectar
That saturates their lips
No comprenden la escasez.
Wasteful, so wasteful
That I cringe at the foolish use
Of love, as if it were plebeian,
Not worth its weight in gold
El amor no puede ser comprado.
Love I knew thee once
Te conoci
And I lost, I!
Even I , who knew its value
And did not take it lightly,
Loving truly and eternally, yet
As quitado tu mirada de mi
O sun, o sun of mine: Love!
Liliana Lopez Aug 2017
I'm tired of dreaming.
Of believing.
I know no one can ever love me.
But sometimes I forget.
Liliana Lopez Feb 2018
i don't remember anything that happened
         but i called you: why?
if i am trying to forget.
Liliana Lopez Jul 2017
At sixteen, I worked after high school hours
at a printing plant
that manufactured legal pads:
Yellow paper
stacked seven feet high
and leaning
as I slipped cardboard
between the pages,
then brushed red glue
up and down the stack.
No gloves: fingertips required
for the perfection of paper,
smoothing the exact rectangle.
Sluggish by 9 PM, the hands
would slide along suddenly sharp paper,
and gather slits thinner than the crevices
of the skin, hidden.
Then the glue would sting,
hands oozing
till both palms burned
at the punchclock.

Ten years later, in law school,
I knew that every legal pad
was glued with the sting of hidden cuts,
that every open lawbook
was a pair of hands
upturned and burning.

— The End —