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 Feb 2012
Juliana
I have nooses hanging from my ceiling
I’ve made all of them
With fumbling fingers in the rain
I’ve strung them to the rafters like a one hundred stringed guitar

When I get home I’ll make one more,
There’s one for every night I’ve spent in hiding.
It’s raining; I keep my lips closed.
Maybe I’ll get the rope wet,
It will rub harder between my hands.

I think it’s you,
My hands muddle in between flannel,
I’m frayed at the edges
And it hurts good.

I light up the rain
Refracting all over the window
In my corner sheltered in hopeful wallpaper
You keep me secret.
                                                                                          Hi

I keep my lips closed.
It’s cold you know,
My wrists don’t like showing themselves.
                                                                             It’s been too long

Tonight I’ll add to your waterfall
All wrapped and waiting
For a thousand pretty birds.
Lovingly stealing my breaths away,
Tiny ****** roughly holding on.

                                                                              It really hasn’t
No
It really has,
Since you’ve been away.

                                                                     I’ve made stars for you.
I should stop,
Every night I say I should.
But counting my splinters reassures me
I’m good at something.

                                                                           I need to tell you,
                                                                                   I’m done.
I’m good at ending,
But you’ve beat me to it.

I have all the time to choose from,
Hidden away safe, with me.
Suspended in the air, I am at risk
From myself, from my pendulums.
                                                                                *Goodbye.
 Feb 2012
Victor Thorn
lilli, lilli, lilli,
now sacred and independent of mother,

all new
to be caught up in this cycle again?
the doors were many,
the keys were few,

and now you’re here in my arms,
the arms of an uncle’s friend
visiting objectively,
wondering
if some day you’ll wonder
why you’re here
and wondering
what might cause such thoughts to surface
in your pure, unadulterated mind.

let this be our answer.

mother of seventeen
to grow old and fat and unfulfilled
violated the pact she will soon teach you
and later repented and kept you.

father of seventeen
to grow desolate and disconsolate and cold
valued not himself
and will passively teach you to follow suit.
but you must not follow suit.

lilli, when you are of seventeen,
will life be worth living?
or will you hand your own infant to an older poet
who whispers in its ear,
“perhaps if you had never been born?”
Copyright 2012 by Victor Thorn
 Feb 2012
Kingafroninjaa
In his barren room of eternal darkness, you will find her suspended alone in space.
The silhouette that continues to haunt her soul have returned to reveal its obscure face.
Its eyes dazzles with the pure optimism for the uncertainty of what secrets the future has in store,
But her dimly brown stained eyes are plagued by the sadistic knocks of death at her door.

The seemingly gullible and naive entity clings onto an orb that has an effervescent shine,
This radiant glow, beckons for my soul to remember, to remember that it was once mine.
What is the reason for my once pure light to turn into the blacken, tainted soul that lies within me?
Is it waiting for the completion of my quest to find my hidden euphoria to be finally be set free?

Its voice sings to my inner demons, tugging at my existence like a synchronized team.
But the painful reality of life has taught me that happiness is nothing but a just forgotten dream.
Trying out rhyme scheme. o.O
 Feb 2012
Juliana
My life is made of paper memories
Connected by dust motes,
Eclipsed in tiny dates,
Strung across the sky.
Burning at the edges
Because it refuses to rain.

The soaked windows
Just remind me I’m blazing,
Perpetual melodies mixing,
Strangling me with their complexity.

Only the night knows of the stars like me
Staring at the Polaroids suspended from the clouds.
Between you and I,
I haven’t really stopped gasping for fantasy.
I live lungs deep in sleeping,
Only stage one of waking up.

With eyes closed I see your shoes,
Matching mine
Mouth hiding behind freshly cut sunshine
Protected like a smuggled dove in your hands

All my breaths are made of
Other people’s words,
Melting into shapes
To smear into my heavens.
Holding firmly in place by my temples,
A creature of me.

One day you’ll grow human, but
For now I’ll be drifting,
Playing with sails
Like old rolling grass.

Someday you’ll see me outside this window,
Curtained by rain
I’ll be flowing between the pages,
Waving at your smoke,
Camera in hand
Hanging up our pictures.
 Feb 2012
Jethro Nhero Cuizon
Still dreaming


of the reality




that I couldn't have you
 Feb 2012
CG Abenis
He tells me to do this and to do that,
I follow his orders no matter how fool I become
I just can't let my body follow my brain,
It's like a string is attached in every part of my body,
And he becomes the ruler of my entire movements.

He tells me to do this and do that,
No matter how hard it is for me,
I have no choice, I just do my part.

But freedom
is what I shout!
Freedom
is what I want!

As you can see, there are no marks in my body,
No evidences that I've been ******* with strings,
No evidences that I've been controlled by my puppeteer.

But why can't I say no to his commands,
Why can't I not follow everything he says?

As you can see
I have body like yours,
As you can hear,
I have a voice echoing in this place like yours
And as you can feel in my chest,
I have a heart that beats like yours.

Am I puppet?
( no )
I'm not a puppet,
I am a human!

But if I'm not,
maybe I'm just a puppet trapped in a human's soul.
 Feb 2012
CG Abenis
In everyone's eyes I portray my image
as a saint that's never done
any bad deeds at all,
told them lies that I'm holding on
and never wanting to reveal.
They think I've never thought of fantasies
that stain the heart with sins that
most of the humans commit.
But nobody knows that
deep inside this angel whom they thought
is righteous
has a living devil that controls her
thoughts of desires and longings.

Yes I've never been ******,
but deep inside my consciousness
I've longed for it more than the
prostitutes do.
And this is what you called closer to holy?

What in the h* does it really mean?
I ain't holy, so don't call me one.
(I don't deserve it)
But don't get too far in judging me negatively
'cause I've been trying my best
to fight the evil thoughts that's running
inside my head
and trying to stop the circulating electrical
impulses that run around my veins
everytime I fantasize
of being ****** by the man I truly love.

I know there's a right time for that
and this evil thoughts can wait,
and it could no longer be considered
a bad deed
At the time when he already walks me in the altar
and binds his life with mine forever.
I don't judge people who do premarital ***. But as for our tradition and my religion, premarital *** is really a big NO NO that's why I came up to writing this piece. Sorry to those who got offended with this. But just want to say that I'm not pertaining to you, I wrote this pertaining only to myself..
 Feb 2012
CG Abenis
You tell him your happy,
but deep inside your not.

You tell him it's okay,
but you still want the best shot.

You tell him you liked it
but actually you don't.

You tell him the opposite.
Just the opposite of what you really wanted.

Don't you find it funny?
Don't say you don't agree with me.

When you give your lover something
it's the same kind of thing
(*not exactly the same)
that you wanted to receive from him.

The way you caress him and care for him,
is also the exact way you wanted
to be caressed and taken care of.

And the way you love him,
is exactly the way you wished to be loved.

Right?

And then you both end up fighting,
quarreling due to dissatisfaction.

He likes this, you like that.
He loves this, you love that.
He wants it to be done this way,
and you wish it to be done that way.

Then he yells at you,
you burst into tears,
and both of you become silent,
your love becomes silent and mute.

But then, do you think you're really in love?
Do you really call this is love?
When you become dissatisfied of what the other
can only give and show,
When you cannot accept what he/she can only do.

I guess my friends,
you're not in love.

Love is not about what's the best gift to give
Or what's the best action to show.

Love is about accepting what can each other only give,
And what can each other only do,
but still manage to prove that he/she is in love with you,
and only to you.

Not to his/her money,
nor to his/her body,
but with who you really are,
despite with what you only are.

By then you are in love. <3
 Feb 2012
CG Abenis
I don't know you,
you don't know me,
I don't even know if
we already crossed our paths,
or even seen each other's shadows.
The only thing that connects us
is this wall where
you and I met,
maybe not face to face,
but by writing the word hello
on the upper left corner.

I wrote hello in case someone
will say hi
And yes, I found you,
and as days went on
our feeling became mutual.

From the five - letter words I wrote,
it then became too full of
words of love
that almost there's no space to write on.

Each day I arrive to school,
I excitedly go to the old building
just to greet you good morning
and before I go home,
I hastily go back to read
your reply
and then walk away with a smile
as you told me to take good care
of myself.

Later, I decided to meet you
in front of that wall,
So I wrote down the date and time
we'll see each other,
But when I came back
Tears began to fall down from my eyes,
I don't know why
But I really felt sad.

When I went there on the 2nd of August
at exactly 7 o'clock in the evening,
I was all alone,
nobody's there,
there's no you.

And the building, it was smashed into smaller pieces
including the wall that bridged our life;
they were crushed into
smaller pieces and just became
tiny stones.

I wondered if you read what I've written
on that wall,
I wondered if you have written a reply,
so I tried to put the pieces back together
like a puzzle game
in a very difficult level.

But nothing, nothing's there,
I wasn't able to assemble them all
anyway,
And my heart was too broken
like the old wall that
once was in front of me
when I'm standing at this point.

And that was the last moment I heard about you.
But I'm still haunted by the memories
We both shared in that
little span of bonding we had.

And that ends my story about me and you
and the wall.
 Feb 2012
CG Abenis
He took his bow and his red arrows,
but clumsy as he is he lost some of those,
and panicked to the point that he did not know
what to do in the midst of the shadows.
He searched for the missing ones
and luckily these arrows were found,
but clumsy as he is, cupid became stupid again.

He paired his arrows with a she and a he,
and clumsy as he is, the other arrow hit to another she.
And so as well to the others, a different pair of he and she.

So unlucky and unfortunate these people are,
unable to feel what it is to love and to be loved
by the one you fell for,
upon hearing to people who were paired perfectly
they feel like it's different, their dreamed fantasy.

Just because of that stupid, clumsy cupid,
many people have broken hearts
for being hit by the wrong pair of arrows of love
Many have shed their tears and buried themselves in despair.
I'm just wondering, does cupid know how much it hurts to fall for the wrong person?
 Feb 2012
CG Abenis
Your eyes speak to me every time
you see that beautiful lady across your house,
And all I do is smile back
when deep inside my heart I'm drowned
with painted fake happiness that I show to you.
My ever-loving reserved smiles and kisses
have come into waste when you told me you like her
and I became more broken the day you told me
it's her you want to court on and spend the rest of your life with.

I asked myself what are those for?
The care you rendered to me,
The soft - spoken words you whisper in my ears,
The days you took me to restaurants and movies
And the nights and days you held my hand tightly,
never wanting to let go.

Why do you have to do such things
when you'll only leave me broken, anyway?
Am I just for fun or a dummy that you are practicing on?
How could you do such things and leave me like this?
How could you do this?

The moments we had under the silence of the night,
When the rain suddenly fell on my head,
and you'd say you hate rain but I say it feels good
to have gentle rain at night and look at them dancing
on the sides of the street lights.
Those moments when we looked at each other's eyes
and felt the silence, hearing only the rain's sound as it fell on the pavement.
When you've almost told me you love me,
(as what I've thought)
And I too, about to say it if you've only told me first.
Those moments, when I wished my fantasy of me and you would come true.

But now I've awaken to the truth,
I'm the only one who felt it,
The sound of the ringing bells of love,
The sweet music that I hear everytime you're by my side.
It's only me.
Just me.

How could cupid be so unfair?
Can you tell me at least?
Why does he have to hit his arrow only to me with your
name on it and you've been hit also but having hers instead of mine?
Isn't it unfair?
Tell me.

I love you, you love her.
You only love me as your friend,
and I guess here it will all end.

Stupid cupid!
 Feb 2012
Jethro Nhero Cuizon
I wandered the hell's path
I saw its fury
            that burned my life
I felt the flame
            that scorched my heart

I wanted to fight,
But I cannot withstand the pain
              it causes me
I'm just a loser who can't win
              over you

All this time,
           I've suffered too much
And I couldn't bear it
           any longer
I've been living like hell
           with endless agony

I couldn't help
           but scream
The searing pain
          inside my heart
For I'm just a loser who can't win
          over you
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