EVERYONE CHECK OUT MY NEW WORK

Jan 2012

Kingafroninjaa

11:20pm
You kidnapped me and we flew back to your home planet.
I was left speechless as this heavenly body took over my soul.
He tied a martian string around my heart and promised me to stay.
11:30pm
You took me on an adventure across the galaxy that distorted my mind.
I let him guide my body into a meadow of star dust, without any fear of hesitation.
He tightened the martian string around my heart and promised that I will be his forever.
11:40pm
You gently caressed my untamed spirit and helped this earthling experience a new look on life.
I only craved for my eccentric martian, so I feared the day I would have to go back to that dreary planet.
He glared down into my dark brown eyes and promised that I'll be his officially, to have and to hold.
11:50pm
You slowly began to distant yourself from yourself my soul as the days progressed on this martian planet.
I noticed that the string we held tightly around our hearts began to steadily loosen as the nights grew colder.
He turned his back on the earthling he once loved and promised to let me go so he can travel the stars alone.
12:00am
You promise that we would explore the extrasolar worlds together as we floated through the dark abyss.
I believed in his promises, hoping the martian string that bounded our hearts together would remain intact.
He delivered me back to my humdrum planet while untying the same string that we once held so dear.

How I spent my New Years.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

I never put
eggs
in my ramen noodles
to boil
before.

Never
let the yolk
break
and
dissolve
like cells should.

I never even thought
about Eggs
and Ramen noodles
in the same
sentence.

What's next?
You gonna tell
me
we can have four course meals for dinner if we just
try
and
believe?

God, Yukimi.

God Yukimi
give me some of your new morals.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi

You like to say:

"I get baby guts
in the morning."

This means
you're not going to be drinking
for awhile.

I hold your hair
while you puke.

And you bring me Tums
and ginger ale,
as I hemorrhage
stomach acid
in the perfect acoustics
of porcelain.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

"You know
what's crazy babe?"

"What?"

"You scare me
with your love."

"That's such a waste,
come here,
I want to tell you something."

You scooch
over to me.

I just want to
know
your sticky skin.

You just breathe close to me,
all night long.

Our words
use our bodies
for mouths.

I'm not ashamed to say
that we really know
how to ****
each other.

And for all you *******
love is so physical
that words
and eternal sentiments
break it down.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

There is a melancholy
piano,
with a whole bunch of dust
like a film
of fear
in your corner,
that you like to play
every night
in the purple dark.

But I sleep,
holding you,
and I don't seem fragile
or under
some
formal demand.

Maybe
there can be
two types of will,
one for fear
and
one for
contentment.

You win the day,
with your ability
to will
certain things
into being.

Purple dark
ravishes.

We lay on the bed
and I can smell your hair
not fragile at all.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

Bacon.
Eggs.
Cheese.
Bits
of
chicken parts.
Lion
teeth.
A feather
from a king's headdress,
given to you
because you told him
"Isn't this just a stupid ritual?
I was just wondering that."

I like the way your fingers tighten
around my fingers
when you talk
and I happen to be close by.

It's funny,
this poem was supposed to be about
breakfast,
going to the zoo,
and going to see the "Mayans"
and their stupid
fake kings.

We are becoming
a
very
stupid people.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

I hate abstract art,
right along with you.

I like the impressionists,
and pointillists.

You will be
my Camille
and I will be
your Oscar-Claude.

Wear that green dress
to bed tonight
and I will make you
bashful,
but confident too.

You will make me
humane and
delightfully weak
inside of 500 square feet.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

Eats gummy worms
like
Flintstone's vitamins;
popping them in her mouth
wholesale.

She puts away brussel sprouts
delicately,
leaf by leaf.

Sometimes
we read quietly
and go to sleep
body to body.

Our hearts beat
tinily
like squirrel hearts.

WE APPRECIATE THE SMALL THINGS.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

Did you know you look at sparrows
weirdly?

You look at them like
murderers
of insignificant things,
things like
cars,
towers,
pyramids,
love,
hope.

I love the cynicism
of your eyes.

Even the way you criticize
the flowers.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Yukimi.

Are we in trouble
again?

Tonight while I lay in bed,
hold me
close to your stomach.

Matter of fact,
hold me
in your stomach.

Take a few bites,
will you?

Let me know I'm substantial enough
to be your human feed.

Tomorrow
we'll turn the tables.

I'll be pregnant
in my infintesimal
intestines
with you.

Nibble off that vein,
thank you babe.

It feels good
when your teeth sink,
and my life
is held in your teeth
like Allstate hands,
because there's no such thing
as love insurance.

Jan 2012

Waverly

Dear Yukimi.

I love you.
Your lips
and how you
put your teeth first.

How you tickle yourself
silly
with your incisors
as you think.

I love your depth.
Your black eyes
and curly
animal hair.

The things you say
are too important
to be remembered.

They are better for
cups of coffee in Mcdonald's
while I perform
necromancy
over a small cup
and need
some higher power
to call upon.

You said:
"Some call it coincidence,
but I like to call it fate."

I love you Yukimi,
love me forever
my little woodpecker.

Jan 2012

JK Cabresos

On My Beloved Death

Let the cold wind
of the night serenades
the earth,

Let the golden moon
surrenders the shadows
captivated by fears,

Let the little voices
whisper words for joy;
rejoice fate,

And let my hallow soul
celebrates on my
beloved death.

Dec 2011

Odi

Another year, Another friend

Our shaking hands,
See they weren't made for
cigarettes
And all these words, flowing through our heads
Weren't meant to let us
sleep

We were only 16
Scarred, but beautiful
Like broken things sometimes are
Rarely are
Young, nicotine stains
Lungs full of words we drowned in
Choked on
Burying friends we had grown up with

How sad
How sad

A year later

Another funeral
We all look older
Wrinkles on our foreheads
But were only seventeen
Too young for crows feet
Unmistakable
Unshakable
Grief painted in our eyes
And we couldn't even look at each other
A year later, shaking hands
Same nicotine stained fingers
On our baby hands as we threw the dirt
On his casket

Another year
*Another friend

Sorry for writing about death again.