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 May 2018
Kara Jean
Anxiety kisses me
I have a need to retreat,
instead I give in
I blend into a world I don't believe in

He has nice eye brows
She sweats transgressions
Make believe is kind of my thing
**** me,
**** me over
I detach easily,
there is no gain
Would you like a large fry with my pain

I have a head filled with old angst
Angst that seems to gravitate
Walk by me,  I am today
I dissipate like rain,
noticeable but nothing to gain

Happiness is the chase  
We have no frames, no imprints
An unnoticeable fame

I have a crayon crown stained
No presents
I can't be tamed
I combined two of my old poems and more.
 Apr 2018
beth fwoah dream
i.

words blur themselves
in the remote reaches
of the mind, verbs
and adjectives search
for voice in a tongue
captivated by ice,
flowering like the
newly blossoming sun.

ii.

frozen,
with the frost
that winter
breathes,
the winter’s silhouette the
ghost of the snow.

iii.

her voice a million
white leaves
learning how to melt
like a little snowman
wrapped in a warm,
red scarf.

iv.

the water breathes
its kiss of ice,

mirrors pressed to
the sky,
white hedgerows
with leaves
that shiver
gathering april's
weak sunlight,

framed like a
watercolour the
shadows of
midnight’s blue inks.

v.

the lake ploughs
its bottle-like
greens, surrenders its
shimmering breath
to the waste land of
the sky.

vi.

love drifts with the seas
where the waves rush
past, a colossal stream
below the blue stars.
 Apr 2018
beth fwoah dream
the sea flows in,
rolls thunderous waves
against the shore until the
sands are buried in the
deepening water
and the grey rocks
can no longer be seen.

each wave is like
the row of an audience
in a theatre, whistling to
the shrieks of the wind.

it is winter and the
rushing tide
melts in the cold
below a steely mist
that the broad sky
wears like a mask,
gathering her skirts
of cloudy inks.

i hear the water fall
and i sense that i’m alone
with the crying tide,
watching as it speeds
to the shore, spraying
its foamy mist
in the air.

i am isolate, drowning
in the cloudy thunders
of the waves, hearing
the mighty barrels
hiss and whir, dreaming
of love.
happy easter everyone
 Mar 2018
Appoline Romanens
If she wasn’t hooked on honey
she would fall down on my page
I rescued a blue-winged bee sage
I hope she’ll enjoy her stay
in my human home
She strains her abdomen
I pray it’s not a bad omen
her Hermes powers at rest
Did she leave her nest in earnest
I found her on lonely gray stairs
I pray she heals from her despairs
as the carpenter bee sleeps dangled
To my honey lathered chopsticks
I admire her frail black body
I gently blow on her she’s inside
my heart. I felt hers when she
Gripped my thumb.

March 13, 2018
Lyon
I found a carpenter bee on my way to work and she hadn't moved when I walked up to her a couple of hours later. I took her home and I'm nursing her.
I feel the euphoric,
But bittersweet bliss,

Like a long, slow, soft kiss.

As i write the words
That cannot pass my lips.

I break free
My soul's silence,
Obscuring the light
From one celestial body
By the passage of another--
My written word is an eclipse.

Between my words and the observer,
I acknowledge pride in my muse--
The aiding source of illumination -
Until the light completely dips.

By Lady R.F. (C)2018
 Jan 2018
Crissel Famorcan
Elementarya ako nang pinangarap kong maging manunulat,
Kaya't nagsikap ako at natutong magsulat
Ikatlong taon ko sa hayskul nang isulat ko ang kuwento nating dalawa
Kuwentong pinangarap ko pang maipa-imprenta
Kaya't pinaghusayan ko ang paglikha at pagdetalye
'Straight to the point' at walang mga pasakalye
Maraming natuwa sa bawat tulang alay ko sayo,
Pero sa lahat ng yun? Kritisismo at pangungutya ang isinusukli mo
Ngunit hindi ko inintindi iyon at patuloy akong sumulat,
Baka sakali.. isang araw,malay ko? mata mo'y mamulat
Mamulat sa pag-ibig na ibinibigay ko,
Baka isang araw,makita mo rin yung halaga ng mga regalo ko,
Baka isang araw, masuklian mo rin yung pagmamahal kong buo
Baka kasi wala ka lamang barya,
At nahahanap ng panukli kaya ka abala,
Kaya naghintay ako ng ilang taon,nagpakatanga..
Pero mukhang di na yata ako masusuklian pa
Kaya naisip kong makuntento sa kung anong meron tayong dalawa
Pagkakaibigan.
Pero di ko maiwasang masaktan
Sa tuwing magkukuwento ka o nagtatanong tungkol sa kanya,
Hinahayaan ko na lang at least nakakausap kita!
Kahit na yung paksa natin madalas,tungkol lang sa musika
Ayos lang! Basta nakakausap kita.
Kahit nagmumukha na akong tanga
Okay pa rin! Basta nakakausap kita.
Ngunit nakakapagod din maging tanga
Kaya mahal, ako'y magpapaalam na.

Sa paglapat nitong panulat sa aking kwaderno
Ay isusulat ko na ang huling bahagi ng ating kuwento,
Tutuldukan ko na ang mga huling pangungusap
At puputulin na ang mga ilusyon ko't pangarap
Dahil kung hindi'y lalo lang akong mahihirapan
Lalo lang akong masasaktan.
Makapal na ang libro,paubos na ang mga pahina
Nakakaumay ang kuwento na pinuno ng mga luha
Panahon na sinta ko upang mag umpisa akong muli,
Hindi ko na hihintayin ang hinihingi kong sukli
Pagkat panahon na rin upang sumaya akong muli.

Salamat sa lahat ng alaala
At pasensya na sa mga abala
Mahal ito na ang huli kong regalo
- Hindi ko na ibabalot pa
Pagkat alam kong wala ka rin namang pagpapahalaga
At sa huling pagkakataon,gusto kong malaman mo,
Na may isang AKO na minsang nagmahal sayo.
Ito na ang huling pahina ng ating libro
At sa pagsara ko dito,kasabay ang paglisan ko sa mundong ginagalawan mo.
 Jan 2018
Pagan Paul
.
And I stumble on across the barren land,
the mist, like a shroud, about me swirls,
chipped flint rocks assault my bare feet,
an endless quarry of slate grey, my world.

So the curtain of sadness and submission falls,
covering my mind with an opaque funeral drape,
the hazy images of the isolated and desolate,
forming the features of depressions landscape.

Vaguely felt, the invasion of another waits,
blind and innocent in a palace of real fear,
set free to roam in a strange arid topography,
desperate times pause for vision to be clear.

A stark scene viewed through teardrops frozen,
by ice winds of piercing calamity and despair,
of a place exclusive to the disaffected and lonely,
the last retreat for an exhausted mind to repair.

And this is my world where the haunted party,
leave me be with my cold mists and grey stone,
the frozen tear for a souvenir means everything,
my special gift, the feeling of being utterly alone.



© Pagan Paul (24/01/18)
.
Some people slip into a black hole when depression strikes but this poem is where I go when it affects me badly.
I'm OK, just writing about it whilst I can.
.
 Jan 2018
Sjr1000
I taste death
in every food I eat
I see beauty
in every face I meet

It all once lived
before it died
One day maybe
nothing will need to die
for mankind to survive

I see beauty
in the face of every  person I meet

The public world
of shopping malls
Supermarkets
Working's pall

Inside while primitive
fantasies
still reside
Rageful tides
Spiderwebs blowing down hillsides

Carrying  on a private conversation
in a public gathering
"a little privy please"
There are no walls
in the outhouse
The outhouse is lined
with mirrors and windows

The rules are the rules
even for desire
tho sometimes we all do
a mashpit at the opera

Everything has a taste
Internal
External
make a mistake
it's back to the wild
Food for fodder
fodder for thought

Still seeing beauty
in every face I meet
Tasting death
in every food I eat

Makes water in
the desert
so so sweet.
 Jan 2018
Appoline Romanens
I caress my words, letting them gush as I go
Farther inside my mind. Willing to find the evidence
Why would I be afraid to sink so low
Until a garden that gathers my young existence

Those hills which guarded the painful spike
Preventing it from striking at full force?
I now know what the blow feels like
No longer protected, this is a wound I endorse.

The veiled and shy fair maiden said her name
Under the golden worlds of Victor Hugo, his fame
Crowned me with a genuine jewelry
Coloring my mind with the tears of Poetry.

I knocked on her gates at night
Looking for some of her pure light
Gently scratching the golden necklace
Hoping to unveil her virginal face...

She let me in and opened her palace
Which was so fascinating I could not keep pace
She was noble, her neck exhaled the fine fragrance
Of an infinite and concealed romance

Who would have not fallen for such a beauty?
Her sighs were enough to tease the eternity
Long as she locked me in her love I lived
But deep inside I knew my heart was cleaved.

For my mind adored her, studied her slender secrets
Never was it trapped by bitter regrets
It worshiped her and long as she would please it
It despised my broken heart that begged it to quit,

This delusive reality that tempted my core.
Reluctantly I cursed my mind offering her a last kiss
Being aware it would never repel her bliss
Sometimes, I still hear her rattle, “Can I get an encore?"

I watched my words whine in the distance
Trying to escape to admire her dance
I know that some of them will never forgive me
Her desires defiantly never listened to me!

I had to tear the treasures from her temples
Her blood as stains, symbols of our struggles
While my mind and heart were at war
And she still binds them so far...

I left her luminous palace, left alone
My mind called her name: "Poetry!" But gone
Was the veiled and fair maiden
Buried, banished and loved in her den.

I shed a tear of shame and satisfaction
I had not given in to my addiction
She called back in the loneliest night
But she was out of her mind and I, out of sight!

Nevertheless, I cried I was a damsel in distress
The flow of my dismay ignored by the lioness
When a gentle hand skimmed my spine I shivered
A voice came to my ears my heart had never heard!

While Poetry had not uttered a single song
This touch soothed my soul all night long
I could finally grasp something mystical
Something so sweet, this miracle became lyrical.

I averted my eyes from discovering whoever was speaking
But I sensed his blessing must have come from a king
He pointed at my jewelry and said: "Give me this flower
Otherwise it is soon going to silently wither."

I told him what I had never described to Poetry
How Death sounded like weaving her torn tapestry
With the souls of the ****** and their last breaths
Looking at her grin when she cleaned them in her cold baths.

I told him about my first love and he knew why
It ended with a faded rose offered to Wry
He said he would protect my untouched fleur de lis
If I wanted to use his language for my release...

He took me in his arms and spoke while I repeated
The words and feelings his lips formed as instructed
"Why would have the maiden Poetry sung to you when
You already communicated with her with a pen?

French is your mother tongue but your heart longed for more
Hearing it over and over your heart became sore
Of the sounds and images you wanted the spell
Of unknown mages but you cannot deny for her you fell


Now, mine is English and we both know
That albeit in the beginning we took it slow
Your heart hopes and yearns for my lips
For my taste and touch you drink in sweet sips

While your mind mumbles it misses its mistress
Tell it for now you are my damsel in distress
My tongue disarms you in the strongest embrace
But please, of the unveiled maiden, keep trace!

My name is hers, and if you would like
I can relieve you of the pain of the spike
Because you trusted me and bared your marred back
I will gift you my passion and will never take it back!"

And as I am recalling his gentle touch I ascertain
That he is staying by my side, washing away the stain,
He cannot completely remove though, for if he does
I will forget the bashful sound of Poetry's buzz.



May 5,2014
Lyon, France
D’une infinie et cachée romance

Je caresse mes mots, les laissant jaillir en chemin
Vers la profondeur de mon esprit. Voulant trouver la preuve
Pourquoi devrais-je craindre de tomber si bas
Dans un jardin rassemblant ma jeune existence

Ces collines ont gardé les lances douloureuses
Les empêchant de m’être délivrées de plein fouet ?
Je sais maintenant ce que le coup porté fait
Je ne suis plus protégée, je prends la blessure sur moi.

La voilée et belle vierge donna son nom
Sous les mondes dorés de Victor Hugo, sa renommée
Me couronna avec de vraies pierreries
Colorant mon esprit avec les pleurs de Poésie.

J’ai frappé à sa porte la nuit
Recherchant un éclat de sa pureté qui luit
Grattant doucement le collier doré
Sa coiffe virginale désirant dévoiler…

Elle me laissa entrer, m’ouvrant les portes de son palais
Qui était si impressionnant je ne tenais pas le rythme
Elle était noble, son cou inondé d’un fin parfum
D’une infinie et cachée romance.

Qui aurait résisté pareille beauté ?
Ces soupirs suffisaient à taquiner l’éternité
Aussi longtemps qu’elle m’enferma dans son amour je vis
Mais au plus profond de moi, je sentais mon coeur se fendre…

Car mon esprit l’adorait, étudiait ses secrets sveltes
Et ne fut jamais des regrets amers prisonnier
Il l’adulait, et aussi longtemps qu’elle continuait de lui plaire
Il méprisait mon coeur brisé qui le supplia de quitter,

Cette réalité décevante qui me charmait au plus profond.
Réticente, je maudis mon esprit lui donnant un dernier baiser
Sachant bien qu’il n’éloignera jamais sa béatitude
Je l’entends encore parfois, me dire, traînante, ‘’Donne m’en plus !’’

J’ai observé mes mots gémir au ****
Essayant de s’enfuir pour admirer sa danse
Je sais que certains d’entre eux ne me pardonneront jamais
Ses désirs, sur un ton de défi ne m’ont jamais écouté !

J’ai du déchirer les trésors de ses temples
Son sang, tâches de nos combats
Pendant que mon esprit était en guerre contre mon corps
Et à ce jour, elle les lie toujours…

J’ai déserté son palais lumineux, seule
Mon esprit la héla: “Poésie ! ‘’ Mais ****
Etait la voilée et belle vierge
Enterrée, bannie et aimée dans son repaire.

J’ai versé une larme de honte et de satisfaction
Je n’ai pas laissé entrer mon addiction
Elle me rappela dans la plus solitaire des nuits
Mais j’étais hors de portée, elle hors de mon esprit !

Cependant, j’ai crié au secours
Le flux de mon désarroi ignoré par la lionne
Quand une douce main effleura mon épine dorsale, j’eus un sursaut
Une voix atteint mes sens jamais entendue par mon coeur !

Alors que Poésie n’avait jamais prononcé le moindre mot
Ce toucher apaisa mon âme jusqu’au point du jour
Je pouvais enfin saisir quelque chose de mystique
Quelque chose de si doux, le miracle en devint lyrique

J’interdis à mes yeux de découvrir qui parlait
Mais senti que sa bénédiction devait venir d’un roi
Il désigna mes pierreries et dit: “Donne-moi cette fleur
Sinon elle va bientôt faner dans l’oubli.’’

Je lui ai écris ce que je n’ai jamais pu décrire à Poésie
A quoi ressemblait la Mort cousant ses tapisseries
Avec les âmes des damnés et leurs derniers soupirs
Regardant son sourire, les lavant dans ses bains froids.

Je lui ai parlé de mon premier amour et il sut
Pourquoi il se termina avec une rose offerte à l’ironie
Il promit de protéger mon intacte fleur de lys
Si j’acceptais d’utiliser sa langue pour être libre…

Il me prit dans ses bras, je répétais
Les mots et sensations que ses lèvres formaient, comme demandé
- Pourquoi Poésie aurait-elle chanté pour toi quand
Tu lui parlais déjà avec une plume ?

Le français est ta langue maternelle mais ton coeur en voulut plus
L’entendant encore et encore, il en devint las
Des sons et des images tu voulais le sort
De mages inconnus, mais tu ne peux nier tu es tombée pour elle

Mais la mienne est l’anglais et nous savons tous deux
Que même si au début nous sommes allés pas à pas
Ton coeur espère et envie mes lèvres
Parce que tu bois mon goût et toucher en de douces gorgées

Alors que ton esprit bredouille que sa maîtresse lui manque
Dis lui que pour l’instant tu es ma princesse à secourir
Ma langue te désarme dans la plus puissante des embrassades
Mais je t’en prie, de la vierge voilée, ne perds pas trace !

Mon nom est sien et si tu le souhaites
Je peux t’alléger de la douleur des lances
Parce que tu me fis confiance et dénuda ton dos meurtri
Je te donnerai ma passion et jamais ne la reprendrais.’’

Alors que je ramène à moi son tendre toucher j’établis
Qu’il reste à mes côtés, blanchissant les tâches
Qu’il ne peut pas complètement enlever car s’il le fait
J’oublierai le pudique murmure de Poésie.

5 Mai 2014, Lyon, France
Traduit le 8 Juillet 2015
 Dec 2017
Crissel Famorcan
Value.
Madalas lesson sa math at related sa piso
Pero minsan pwede rin naman nating  iugnay sa tao
Parang ako.
Matagal - tagal ko na ring hinahanap
yung halaga ko sa mundo
Ipinanganak ba ako para maging sino at ano?
Sa paglaki ko, dun ko natuklasan
Na ang halaga ng tao nakabatay sa sitwasyon
Yun bang kapag kailangan ka lang nila
Saka ibibigay yung hinihingi **** atensyon.
Yun bang kapag MAHALAGA KA LANG saka ka kukulitin
Yung kapag kailangan lang ng tulong mo saka nila hihingin
Kaya madalas tuloy napapaisip ako
Ni minsan kaya naging mahalaga ako?
O nagkaroon man lang kaya ng halaga
ang isang tulad ko
Dyan sa puso mo?
Alam kong wala ako sa lugar para itanong ang mga  bagay to
Kase una sa lahat, magkaibigan lang naman tayo
Pero pagod na akong itago yung nararamdaman ko
Pagod na akong Magsinungaling
At magsabi ng di naman totoo
pagod na akong lokohin ng paulit-ulit yung sarili ko
Pagod na pagod na ako.
Kaya sa mga sandaling ito
Sasabihin ko na ang lahat
Lahat ng nasa puso ko
At sana kahit saglit
pakinggan mo naman ako.
Sana lahat ng sasabihin ko
Tumatak dyan sa isip mo
At maging mahalaga
Yun bang paulit-ulit **** maaalala
Parang lyrics ng paborito **** kanta
Na maingat **** tinandaan at kinabisa
Para lang wag **** makalimutan
O makaligtaan.
Sana ganun din ako, maging mahalaga
Kahit  ilang minuto, ilang segundo
Ilang oras
Kahit saglit lang,
gusto kong maging mahalaga
Katulad nung paborito **** sapatos at damit
Na kahit luma na iniingatan **** pilit
Kase nga mahalaga
at ayaw **** mawala
Gusto kong maging Importante
Pero parang malabo at imposible naman yung mangyari
Kase kahit magkaroon man ako ng halaga
Yung puso mo naman, hawak na ng iba
Kaya heto ako,nilalabas ang nadarama
Sa pamamagitan ng mga tula
At sisiguraduhin Kong Hindi ito ang magiging una at huli Kong katha
Na tungkol sayo
Dahil habang nabubuhay ako
Lahat ng tula at akda na gagasin ko,
Exclusive lang para sayo.
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