Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2014 Byongho Lee
Kay P
sometimes i open my mouth

you never seem to notice the little jolts
when i decide to say something
stupid
like it doesn’t matter who hears
because no one is listening anyway
and those who do can not interpret
can find no inner meaning
and when the words retract
like measuring tape
it’s not great loss
for humanity

sometimes i open my mouth

and words flow like nectar
honey of arsenic, syrup of mercury
sweet sounding and harsh to taste
poison fermented, sugar-coated,
smooth and sticky and full of sharp edges
broken glass and razor blades
hurt you hurt me hurt everyone
close enough

sometimes i open my mouth

and song bursts forth like butterflies
like birds of prey circling overhead
like shining sunlight and cloaked shadow
like clear crisp air and clearer night skies
like the full moon full of craters
thousands of miles away
sometimes too high and others too low
sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow
and sometimes the song trembles
my voice too powerful
for its composition

sometimes i open my mouth

and silence seeps, black ichor
staining lips and fingers
slipping down throats and dribbling through teeth
and soaking into skin like stains on clothing
creeping and filling the space between
my body and my mind
my friends and my heart
burning and tearing at the *****
until i am drowning on oxygen

sometimes i open my mouth

and scream
my mouth stretched wide as it can go
teeth bared, lips curled,
letting lose a high, free sound
free as a bird and flying until i can feel it
taste the release on my tongue
a sound not of fear but of triumph
ignore me now, pretend you can’t see
howling at the world as a wolf does the moon
i am here, i am here, i am

opening my mouth
February 25th, 2014
He comes at night
When all is sound asleep and tight
When darkness overcome the light
Its announcing His arrival

At first his shadow can be seen
When you are lost in magic dreams
Its He who"s presence in moonlight gleams
Bringing forth fear in flight

Silently without motion
He calls upon your inner notion
And with a lift of just His finger
Dark thoughts and fear that lingers
Is called upon to life

His main ambition is with submission
And purposely driven
To darken dreams into oblivion
As nightmares  enters your subconscious

He walks away from no man
The excecution of His plan
To silently disturb your slumber
And overcome with fear to numb
Your magic fantasies

His power overwhelms all men
Its He who smite your nights wonder
And whilst He smiles -upon He ponder
How terrified you be

And in your realm of sleep
He locks your dreams to keep
With nightmares you are burdened
Till morning light will creep
And you awake from sleep

Fear is what His nightmares feed
And where faith guards not your own belief
He grows a little stronger
Till when peace withold Him no longer
And Truth become weak
He waits to rule as dark leader
At night when all"s asleep

So say your prayers
Before you close your eyes
And hold hope tight within your heart
So that He will have to skip
Your dreams He then can't keep
With fear and with lies
At night

Before sunrise
If you suffer from lack of dreaming and its been a while since last you had sweet dreams!
Hello again, and welcome to tonight’s program


A wonderful show it is, for you that is…


A beautiful imbalance of provocative wonders


Simmered together in an elixir of intoxication


The modern day alchemist roams the night for the eyes of sensuality



The midnight occupiers of the everlasting void



A world you understand but can’t comprehend



A life you comprehend but don’t understand



The unsaid pleasures of private fantasy



The untold fantasy of malevolent pleasures





Please come in



Don’t be shy



We’re all here



Waiting for you



Yes this way



Keep walking till you see the door



Yes



This is the door



The door for you



16



Room 16



It’s unlocked



It’s ok



Please



Walk in



This is your door



This is your mind


This is your door to your mind


Room 16





Where were you when you were 16?



Do you remember that one night that changed everything?

That one girl?

That one boy?

Finding yourself….did it happen?



Did you feel misunderstood?

Or

Did you misunderstand others?



I remember only too well.



The stories I faced

The ridicule I endured



“You need to be punished” said the stepfather-person, “But since you think you are old enough to make your own decisions, here’s one for you.  Now it’s either you or your cat.  I can either gut you or gut your cat…decide now, Which of you doesn’t get gutted?”



I look up at my little cat, squeezed underneath his massive arm


I didn’t put it past him that he would hurt me in an unimaginable way


I point to myself, saying that I didn’t want to be gutted.


“Wow.”  The stepfather-person says, “You must not love your own pets.  Some person you’ll turn out to be.”


He tosses the cat to the ground and leaves to his room.


The next day the cat is gone.



What cruel manifestations we are of all our sins


What dark creatures we are, yet we are terrified of the monsters underneath our bed


The monsters in the other room
The monster that sits at your dinner table
The monster that beats your mother
The monster that kicks you into a bookshelf
The monster that strangles you
The monsters


The monsters we all have the potential to become



But do we?



I’d like to think that some of us can become angels instead

Not monster or demons

But some do

In fact

Many of us do

Many of us become the monsters we covet.

What are you?


This has been tonight’s program.  We’d like to thank the academy and all who made this possible:  Quarters, Jimi Hendrix, Ronald Dahl, Marilynn Monroe, Bret Easten Ellis, watches, Eastern Promises, A history of Violence, Daniel Day Lewis, Rebecca Hall, Cocteau Twins, tomatoes, graphic novels, There will be blood,  red gel pens, gold frames and all the little people.

Thank you and please visit us again.
Not really a poem, but a writing exercise I developed.  I treat it as monologue directed to an unknown audience/reader.
 Jan 2013 Byongho Lee
Sahil Suri
Exiled, banished,
Sent down from your throne in heavens gate
to the torrential dullness of earth
the mear morals around me would call this "paradise lost"
yet I refer to it as my paradise found

For were the angles to be banished to earth
what may one state the difference be?
If there be such beauty in this world as you-
heaven doth speak out of sheer vanity

as to call itself the epitome of prosperity?
and forth to label itself paradise

for as far as the mear mortal known as I
true paradise lay not in gates of pearl,

yet rather in your heart of gold
 Jan 2013 Byongho Lee
T
The Road
 Jan 2013 Byongho Lee
T
So much lost
And so much learned
We'll push our luck
Laughing with tears
We'll make mistakes like every child
Does once or twice
We'll go beyond
And do it thrice
Who knows where
Or why and what for
But we'll  try each key
Open each door
Throw our pennies down the well
Ride each wave
And crash each swell
We'll hold on til the bitter end
Only believing in the innocently pretend
We'll wreck our brains and feed our souls
Build memories and forget about gold
For it's too heavy for the free of heart
And last but not least
We'll make a strong pact
That no matter who or what
We won't look back
 Dec 2012 Byongho Lee
Devon Haley
Last night I fell asleep
In the arms of a dream.
Hushed by the quiet
Drumming of my heart.
I was caressed by gentleness
Of the comforter and the cream-colored sheets.

Last night I fell asleep
Not knowing if I would wake up.
In my mind I was startled
By the things unsaid and undone.
I was assaulted by my goals
Whispering to me what I needed to accomplish.

Last night I fell asleep
Exhaling my tears.
Inside I was screaming
And calling your name.
I was lost and alone
With no friend to call home.

Last night I fell asleep
With the hope of finding me.
In myself somewhere
I knew I existed-hiding.
I was called a wanderer.

"But not all those who wander are lost."
credit to be given to J.R.R. Tolkien
What is our life? The play of passion.
Our mirth? The music of division:
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest,
And then we die in earnest, not in jest.
Next page