I want to write a poem about you
and use patches of my skin
instead of nouns
the passion of druids instead of
verbs
All I need is
Radiohead and
space to breath
in
your
breathing

(the body imagines what the mind can't)

I met my uncle Albert
down at asda, in aisle three;
he got there in his mazda,
jus' a smidgen after me,

said he'd traversed sainsburys,
tesco liddle n the spar,
but not one o' them flogged caviar
truffles or foie Gras.

He sidled past the pork pies
streaky bacon turkey thighs
a headin for the french fries
n forsaken knock down buys,

He shimmied 'round the ankle biters;
expectant mums to be,
popin pills for bloated ills
in the haberdashery.

217 days
without speaking
or seeing each other
and suddenly she shows up
knocks on his door and says,
“Hey, we’re still together, right?
Still a couple?”

He didn’t answer,
just ushered her in
through a curtain of smoke
and moldy smells.
His small apartment
looked more like a cave
than ever before.
The walls were dark and irregular
with buildup of grime.

The cockroaches were long dead,
poisoned with cigarette smoke
and ashes

26 years her senior,
he was a modern caveman
Still lived in a cold, dark,
and gross cave,
but he had a laptop
and internet connection.

The screen
was the only thing
alive in the cave.

It showed a compilation
of short videos
featuring brutal executions
from all around the world.

“So how have you been?”
she asked.

His reply was a grunt
as his gnarled hand
reached into his breast pocket
and fished out the pack
of cigarettes and a lighter.

He placed one between
his lips and lit it
and then offered her one.

She took it
and as she stretched
her hand for it
a neat row of self-inflicted scars
shone from her wrist to elbow

“I take it you still haven’t
managed to publish
your writings,” she said.

It drew another
grunt from him,
a louder one
this time.

“So nothing’s changed
in all this time,”
she continued.
“You didn’t make it,
I didn’t make it,
and the world made it
without us.”

Another grunt from him.

He sat down at the desk
and paused the gore videos
that ran with black metal music
playing in the background.
The image that froze onscreen
portrayed a naked man
on his knees, hands tied
behind his back,
while a chainsaw was about
to dig into his belly.

“I was thinking,” she continued,
“you know how people make
those silly promises
that sound something like,
‘if we don’t find partners
by the time we’re so and so years
old we marry each other’?
Well, I was thinking,
what if we make a promise
just like that?
Only, not about marrying
each other.
Rather, if in two years’ time
we don’t make it.
That is, if you don’t get published
as a writer and I still can’t
find a good man to marry…
we suicide together.
What do you say?”

Puffing on his cigarette,
he watched her,
studied her from head
to toe and back,
and after another grunt
and a much needed clearing
of his throat he said,
“Aren’t we already dead?
What’s the point of
suicide now?”

They were both silent
for a long while
and then she said,
“Did I tell you about
the time I aborted
your child?”

He shook his head.
“Pretty sure it wasn’t mine.”

“It was yours,” she said.

He dismissed her
with another grunt
and a slight shake of his head.

Then they smoked
in silence and finished
the whole pack,
letting the ashes fall
straight to the floor
where they joined a gray desert.

He resumed the gore videos
but turned down the volume.

“Some days ago
I slept with a guy
only so I could use his computer
to check out stories of yours
on the internet,”
she said eventually.
“Aside from three or four
very short ones
there was nothing new.
Why did you stop posting?”

“I stopped writing,” he said.

“Oh…”

She came behind him
and they both watched
some poor homeless man
being held down
by a gang of teenagers
as two of them used a brick
to hammer a long screwdriver
up one of his nostrils.

He turned the volume lower.

“Well, I haven’t stopped looking
for a good man,” she said.
“I just hadn’t found one yet.
I thought that maybe if we make
that two-year promise…
maybe it’ll motivate us both,
but I see you’ve already given up.
You are already dead,
aren’t you?
I’m speaking to a ghost.”

He grunted
and lit another cigarette
from a new pack
and offered her another.

They watched gore videos
for the rest of the night
and smoked.

At some point
she said that she
had a loose tooth
and fiddled with it until it
came out of the socket.
There was no blood
and no pain.

She placed it on the desk
and he silently
took it and put it
into his breast pocket
with the pack of cigarettes.

In the morning,
she was ready to leave.

She borrowed
fourteen dollars
and two cigarettes
and stopped by
the corner store
to buy razor blades.

The cashier wasn’t any
more alive than herself
and the modern caveman
she’d left behind
for the final time.

“Say, you wanna marry
in the near future?” she asked
from across the counter.

The cashier just replied
with a grunt.

When my heart returns in the seclusion,

I told him to give me ten years,

In that time, he must see only me

Taste only me, make love to only me

Reflected only in my space.

Like an enchanted mirror or hope,

Our souls will continue to asked

For our morning blessing/

Happy or sad, our morning salutations/

There is nothing more appealing  

Then seeing him in his white attires

a baseball cap, it captures the youth of innocent,  

Is the fundament of falling in love,  

After being in seclusion, it's also terrifying,  

A roller coaster of emotion,  

a mere Smily hideous gestures/

I can see no wrong now,

I can see no flaws,  

I see only what my heart wants me to see

Him, those eyes, those high cheek bones,

While I let me let my soul make love,

Under the warm of the sun,

And the cold from the north,

Entwining into each other’s arms

Who will bless this union?

Who will be there for us,

When it all fade like leaf

All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.

Let me love you for now,

Let me smile, while you smile,

Let me , let me, let me..

There was earth inside them, and
they dug.

They dug and they dug, so their day
went by for them, their night. And they did not praise
          God
who, so they heard, wanted all this,
who, so they heard, knew all this.

They dug and heard nothing more;
they did not grow wise, invented no song,
thought up for themselves no language,
They dug.

There came a stillness, and there came a storm,
and all the oceans came.
I dig, you dig, and the worm digs too,
and that singing out there says: They dig.

O one, o none, o no one, o you:
Where did the way lead when it led nowhere?
O you dig and I dig, and I dig towards you,
and on our finger the ring awakes.

by Paul Celan, translated by Michael Hamburger

Speak, you also,
speak as the last,
have your say.

Speak -
But keep yes and no unsplit,
And give your say this meaning:
give it the shade.

Give it shade enough,
give it as much
as you know has been dealt out between
midday and midday and midnight,

Look around:
look how it all leaps alive -
where death is! Alive!
He speaks truly who speaks the shade.

But now shrinks the place where you stand:
Where now, stripped by shade, will you go?
Upward. ***** your way up.
Thinner you grow, less knowable, finer.
Finer: a thread by which
it wants to be lowered, the star:
to float further down, down below
where it sees itself glitter:
on sand dunes of wandering words.

by Paul Celan, translated by Michael Hamburger

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;

Great lines, something to think about (Edward Thomas)

Woke up to the rain and the wind beating on my window pane,

Yet I thought of getting dressed and going there.



A subway system, so far not yet up to standards,

A job like mine, no one need to hurry too

A mindset like mine, meant for me to lay low

during the northeaster...rain and wind

Poor yet full of pride, I am the servant Queen,



Yesterday, I struggle to maintain my sanity

Due to working conditions: at the workplace

I have been feuding for years. Nothing changes

not even an added penny, before its death,



More work, more stress, no respect  

Night supervisors, penciling  

or rather maneuvering into the darkness

at six am. A street crowded with overturn bins,

Flooded streets, with mudded running water

Mother of Nature, another dangerous disaster?

You meaner than corvid and Alaska,



I am the servant Queen, poor, yet full of pride:

I am fed up with others trying to take me for a ride

Sometimes, you just need a break from a bad situation

Never, berate yourself for giving expression to your emotions.

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;(Edward Thomas) line

I planned to stick, to my believes, nothing will change,

I will always be the servant Queen, as longs as them reign:

I have remembered you.
I remember, how we  
Spoke of never being separated  
Living together until eternity,
When we were young, we saw things  
In a different light, brighter than most people...
Some might have label, us as Thelma and Louise:
You were kind, you were adventurous, and most of all
You had a heart, but I knew you weren't a lady.
But I respected you back then. (I am puzzle by you now)

The Gambler,” you have to “know when to fold 'em.
Thank you, Kenny Rogers. And I just did it. I walked away
However, I was her best friend, imagine the treatment that she
Done to her sister, was humane,
Leaving her scar for life. (Leaving her wondering Why?)
My kind, adventurous friend: (my Thelma)

The last time I saw her, I didn’t even recognize her
Until, I pulled her sister aside and asked who she was?
Our mind has a protection emotional warning, (at least with mind)
It wouldn’t allowed me to connect her ****** memories:
her ill treatment, toward me, were uncalled for. (Mental abuse)
These days I pour my heart into my writing
Her sister, pours her pain into her cooking,
And as the saying goes practice makes perfect.
She is so good at it. Our way of getting our therapy
Without flattening our wallets. Even breaking the bank
Forgiveness must be earned. But whom or what will
Make the pain of betrayal go away

Psalm 55:12–14
12  For it is not an enemy who taunts me—
then I could bear it;
it is not an adversary who deals insolently with me—
then I could hide from him.
13  But it is you, a man, my equal,
my companion, my familiar friend.
14  We used to take sweet counsel together;
within God’s house we walked in the throng.

In fear of it
We don't want
To hear of it.