Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2013 MasikaniCrocodile
JL
soul
 Apr 2013 MasikaniCrocodile
JL
Just as the sevenfold revelation
Finishes its great unraveling
It is burned to ash
Even as I think them
The words lose meaning
Revelations as delicate cobweb strands
If I could just put them down on paper
But by the time they are written
Have become
Trite, cheap, frivalous
Mere shadows of the first-thoughts
I wish I could draw it for you
It would not be a schematic
Or a biochemical roadmap of the mind
Not a diagram of a chambered heart
But an equation unsolvable
In fact it is hard to tell where the absolutes end
And the variables begin
It is a secret part kicking and tossing itself inside
Just begging to climb it's way out
Of the primape body in which it is imprisioned!
As the body casts the shadow
So does it cast it's shape on the darkness of eternity
 Apr 2013 MasikaniCrocodile
Emma
It started somewhere deep, before I knew the depths of depth itself
passed in a flurry of a moment, before I knew the limits of time.

There were the seeds, and the smiles. Root vegetables with
herbed olive oil. Sprouts coming up. Mom browned by the sun.
Brother naked with the sprinkler.
Dirt was the feeling of being human.

Water mixing with the dirt between our toes,
children making laughter in the trees.
Trees that shot upward like castles with hidden treasures,
sticks on the ground. Sticks as weapons for our toy-games. Sticks to walk with.
Calls cried out over the crunch of leaves. Hanging from branches.
Contests to be the best explorer, that
was the stuff of life.

Somewhere out in nature, by the campfire, I learned
that love is everything. Family laughing while the animals
went about their business, unnoticed, in the trees.
Safety by the fire. Safety in the stars.
Nights spent finding myself in the stars.

Days spent hiking up hillsides and rolling back down,
I learned that home is where your solid ground is –
that the earth is strong enough to hold all of us,
strong enough to contain all of the love and fear –

Like the ocean, the sand. Long hours spent in the water.
Waves were the first thing that really scared me, filled with the kind of raw power
that shakes you and reminds you that you were born to live.
Salt water dried up on my skin, I walked away stronger.
Waves turned to seeds, fertilized by thoughts.
Fading ocean air and sweet eucalyptus on the breeze,
hair whipping and tangled with sand.
Salt and bark and dirt must be threaded into my bones by now.

I wonder at these moments, I wonder at the elements
that have weaved themselves so intricately into my memories
and I wonder if we are strong enough to grow up,
while still remaining childlike and full of awe;
To own our actions, and to treat our planet with respect;
To acknowledge that we owe everything to the ground we walk on;
To happily give back. To reciprocate.

I want the trees to still be standing when I’m too old to stand.
I want there to be places that scare me with their wildness
and places where my future children can go to learn.
I want them to have a land to love, to be able to love
the trees and the dirt and the waves unabashedly.
To be inspired by nature’s grandness,
To be frightened and amazed by their own relative smallness.
I want everyone to love like I’ve loved.

I want us not to be held back by our fear.
Isn't fear so essential to life? To be dwarfed by something incomprehensible,
How love and fear alone could form a basis for my being,
my being in the ocean and learning to swim,
my being in the trees and learning to climb,
something simple. Like feeling my own humanness
with my bare feet in the grass and dirt.

With the same intensity that I love my childhood memories of growing up with nature,
I find myself gripped with a fear that those bits of nature might disappear,
that the ocean will cloud and fill with trash, that the trees will be chopped down and replaced
With man-made devices of carbon capture that offer no branches for climbing
And drop no sticks for playing with;
I fear that our lights will overpower the stars completely,
And that we’ll have nowhere to lose ourselves.
That we’ll have nowhere to find ourselves.

My fears feed fuel to my fire.
I learned from the ocean that fear makes you grow,
reminds you of what’s most important, and offers you a chance to make something.
For now, I offer you something earnest and vulnerable:
A plea.
Reversing the damage we’ve done to our environment will require all of us, working together.
It will require a childlike boldness, a reclamation of limitless love,
a desire to better ourselves, a willingness to ask questions
and follow our curiosities.
And it starts with one.

Jump with me.
This was a different experience for me. Longest poem I've written, and one of the few that I've actually edited and worked on. So... feedback appreciated! <3
Soon I will wake up again
to the day I next see you
Like an old fashioned photograph
this day will be tinted a sunny rose
Making everything look like a summer's afternoon

Soon I will step out of this bed
and into your arms
I'll stretch pastel roses across your shoulder's skin
with a touch of peach pinching our tongues
We will watch the sun set

And as this sun says goodbye
the stars rise from their daylight slumber
Cold will seep through the soil, climbing the blades of grass
to tickle the soles of our bare skinned toes
And off are we to begin our own solid slumber

Only to find, that soon we will wake up again.
Why won't time just
s l o w   t h e   *******   d o w n
for once?
 Apr 2013 MasikaniCrocodile
Ugo
because we fell in love with the law
and fell out of love with ourselves.

because the ***** of great minds
wear pineapple fatigues in their fathers’ *******;

from Judas swallowing 9 bullets
to one day being a kid at heart
a symptom of some abnormality.

Ever get the feeling that you’ll die on a Tuesday?

Or one day wake up on their government bed
Screaming,
“you can blame the French Revolution
On silent reading!”

watching

as three teacups of *** plan war on the asphalt.
The mists rise over
The waters at Asuka;
Memory does not
Pass away so easily.

~~
Asuka gawa
Kawa yodo sarazu
Tatsu kiri no
Omoi sugu beki
Koi ni aranuku ni
 Apr 2013 MasikaniCrocodile
Annie
I wished for red lights
An excuse to stop and kiss you
But there was only green

And

I took a shower
The hot water was all used up
I stood in the cold

And

I was so hungry
The vending machine had food
But I had no money

And

I woke up in bed
There was no one on your side
I miss you so much

And

I went to a party
Saw you kissing her instead
So I left

And

You finally came back
A smile plastered on your face
But I knew it was fake
Unlace your shoes and step to the side;
I'll do the same.
Borrow my worn out soles and
Stretch them over your aching feet;
It's okay if they don't quite fit.
Make my body yours,
My toes, my long legs,
My stomach, my *******
My collarbones, my hair
But most importantly,
Take my eyes.
Take the eyes that have filled with fascination
Whenever you step into view.
Take the eyes that have soaked up your personality,
Grasped it with bare hands and never let it go.
Take the eyes that squint every time you humor me and
Never seem to shed tears.
Take the eyes that have noticed your every flaw,
Seen you almost every day for the past ten and a half months,
And still look at you
With fascination.
Stare into those beautiful brown marbles,
Pay attention to those tiny specks of green...
But, don't forget to look through them.
Because if eyes really are the windows to our souls,
You must be the most beautiful person on the planet.
And if we really could trade shoes for even just a moment,
Maybe you'd realize it, too.
little things to fill the time gap. sorry I haven't posted much lately
The video stutters and she jitters to a halt in an intersection;
Traffic lights turn green, and the display revs up,
The Broken Egg food truck clips her heel and spark-like static fogs the screen.

His fingers, once lightly brushing over a braille textbook, freeze out.
The book lifts itself and scraps left to right under his palm.

Her professor speaks, and her lecture on Maxwell's equations propagate towards the classroom wall,
only the walls have fled with their chalkboards, and the standing waves have been left stranded
in the sudden infinite space. She has lost reflections; only direct, brute force remains.

The Truth: I wear petty images like a cloak.
The Truth: My gears tremor under the strain of life, stuck on
The Truth: I think

You'd think me stupid, a bust, and the truth is
I'd rather stand in traffic, frozen, mute and dumb,
than ask questions, intern, or learn the difficult stuff.

Secondary screens:
I'd rather write poems and post them online for strangers
than talk about chemical potentials or spherical wavefunctions.

I'd rather talk about chemical potentials and wavefunctions
than figure out what happened to my remote.

There's too much movement to feel good standing still.
Your story is in Spanish:
a blind man visits, eats, drinks, smokes
and searches your face with his fingers after dinner.

To feel someone's eyes upon you, you say,
is a metaphor. To feel someone's fingers
on your eyelids is also a metaphor
for truth.

Sometimes I tunnel to know how deep the clay begins,
to know "cathedral" in Spanish
to know poetry in S = KlnW
to know where I'm alone.

When you say, "Dádivas ablandan peñas," and hand me a wild cut twine, taut with a kite, I see your scarred fingers  and know

your gift is not a kite, wise with wind
but the tunnel you dug

and the stone in my hand crumbles
Next page