noah chen

noah chen Aug 2012

Under the moonlight
In the back of an ally,
Where red neon lights
Blight out future follies,
Two soon-to-be-lovers
Grow closer to each other.

He was all sharp,
Crisp black and white lines
A close styled suit which was
Meant to define the -
Which it did quite well.

She was of fluid
Poured into a mold,
The forming container a
Red dress newly sold
For specific purpose, to -
Which she would soon do.

And in it she glimmered
And sparkled like gold,
That glittering treasure
He so wished to hold.
Yet she had approached him
And with a whisper they left,
She with her prize and
Him with his -
Which he would soon collect.

She exhaled and he breathed in
And she smelled like chocolates,
And cherries, and smoke.
And they grew close, and she spoke,
The simple words of -
But he could not hear
Because he was kissing her.

Soft and painted lips kissed back.
Only once.
She tasted like revenge, and blood.
Sharp, and wet, a knife in his gut.
He looked at her up above as
She finished her simple words:
“This is for - ”
And so he fell.

Scarlet lips contorted into
Cheshire smile,
Thoughts cavorted
With treasured grace.
Glancing into his
Bloodless face,
She whispered to him
Under her breath:
“Don’t you know red is
The color of - ?”

i had an idea once for breath that smelled like cherries and smoke, so this is that idea i suppose

noah chen Jul 2012

Whenever

Whenever, whenever, when in May,
There is a day with nothing to do;
Save go through the looking glass
And trespass on hours past.
May they last forever.

Through the abyss on a lightning arc
Darkly in your mind.
Find whatever moments you choose
And lose them to your pride.
Yet arks of mine are at your side.

I found some form that belonged to a girl i liked, so i decided to draw on it and came up with the first verse of this and wrote it on there too. The form was promptly thrown away. Somehow I'm dating the girl, though.

noah chen Jul 2012

This Is Where The Souls Are Made

Amongst the still and silent plains
He wonders, traveling the fields of green.
He loses a little, every which way
Until he chances upon the bay-
A tribute to Mother Nature’s parade:
That tossed and turned and glimmering bay-
Here he travels every day.

Into the bay and onto the waters
He had sat upon a swimming boat
With wind to the hair and salt to the throat
Out on the seething, white capped fray.
This is how he was led astray.
Here he travels every day.

Then up and came the bitter storm,
And from it sliding waves took form,
And from it man and boat were born
Away from close and comfort shore
Onto another, strange and stranger more.
And here on foreign land and shore
Is a factory that stands ‘til close of day.
This is where the souls are made.

To the factory goes the man.
The walls are felt- there is a hum!
Of slow robotic delirium-
For eternity would make you wish to run.
Yet set in solid stone it is,
And set in solid stone is done
The Trade: of unseen things to souls;
Souls the result of unseen Trade; and
This is where the souls are made.

Inside the factory the man does go;
And inside, the man does see
The whole of it- it’s quite empty.
Yet creating life for eternity:
The moving parts of the factory.
Invisible to he, for he cannot see
Invisible things and invisible deeds.
For all of life, it finds a way, for
This is where the souls are made.

The whole of the lifeless building he explored,
And found he not but rusted machines galore.
Inside, finally, his emptiness did implode.
These things around him must explode.
How could he know? What thoughts could lead the way
For him to mutter, shout, and say: “Why
This is where the souls are made”?

In this place he thought abandoned
The man let go his demons rampant.
Smashing cogs with metal rod,
Turning machines to dust and fog,
Laying to waste, thus stemming the draught
Of aggression, against which all men have fought.
So from blindness and matched oblivion
He destroyed that place where all life began:
The Factory of Souls, now Graveyard to Many;
*This is where the future dies.

noah chen Jul 2012

To Destroy

There is one, whose piercing-orbs
See wholes yet to be fragment.
To turn what’s warm to frigid-glass,
Take what’s heated, make shivering mass
Even Earth’s-skin is met with cooling tint

Be careful, one, with soul of ice,
Be weary of the fall.
For frozen things, with a clattering ring,
Will surely shatter to a million things
When felled from heights so tall.

noah chen Jul 2012

Wings

If I had wings, surely I would
Loose my heart to a bird or the sun in the sky.
I would give myself to a gust of wind, and
Disturb the grounds where angels fly.

I could whisk away from my world,
Go and dance on a silver cloud.
Immerse my self in the winds that swirl;
Listen as they whistle aloud.

When it rains I’ll be there laughing,
Cascading amongst the falling drops.
I will go, and be there singing,
Thunder, my drums, to back me up.

In quiet times, I’d spread my wings,
Floating, sleeping, on breezes still.
Never thinking of love or hate,
This New World would be my fill

noah chen Jul 2012

The Hungry Cat's Tale

What are these pangs
That wake me from my slumber?
Hunger?!? You devilish *******,
My own worst enemy, what ***** is this?
Come to fight me on my own turf,
How dare you? Not even bothering to show your own face.
How fare you? So poor that you must come bother me,
A plump little house cat such as I, truly
You disgust me. Hiss.
.......
From the land of the warming rays you would pluck me
My own sacred home, you disrupt me!
But of course Hunger never goes away on its own,
It’ll ***** at you and **** and wear you down to the bone
Until you feed it some delicate morsel,
Like tuna, perhaps. I was always partial
Towards tuna.
.......
Hunger’s a real witty foe, too,
Never facing you head on, no
It’s much too smart for that.
The fool makes you walk to the kitchen.
That’s about thirty ****** steps for me,
God I despise it; but then of course I have to prep for it!
Mewing pitifully and rolling around on my back,
Enticing that lazy-**** human to tally from his track
And come feed me. Jesus, pity me,
I know I do.
........
“Oh, look at the cute little kitty fuzz awww”
Oh ******* and feed me you ****
“Aw but you’re such a fat little cat! You don’t need the food!”
I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch it, what was that?
I’m dying of hunger over here, mate.
You’re not going to feed me? Just walk away?
Very well, you’ve made your play.
I’m gonna go **** in your shoes,
How’s that for a how-do-you-do?
........
Hunger, my mortal enemy, my only friend,
You’ve won this fight, but it’s not the end.
You might grumble my stomach in sweet revelry,
Taking joy in my delicious misery-
But hark, what’s this before me??
Oh hunky dory, ~purr~
... There’s no way he’s this stupid, for sure...
Oh, but there is, though it cannot be!
My master’s, (unawares), left out a morsel for me.
You hear that, Hunger, it’s fantastic, I’ve won!
(Even though you’re victory had only just begun),
Dear fat master had left out his food, you see
And now I shall feast and set my hunger free.
For in front of me, O Sweet Salvation!
... A sandwich, for my consumer-ation.

i had sort of imagined this being read in a sort of stuck up, lazy british accent.

noah chen Jul 2012

Accelerate/Explosion

A clock hand twirls everyday
Steady and soft, uncertainty's delay
Is not felt, never to be faced
By clocks that tremble to keep pace

Then watch as you make time speed up
Hands spin faster from your disrupt
Hear as sound goes from tick to tumble
Then a boom and a crash, see them stumble

Your element, steady as waves and the ocean
Made it accelerate, literally increase motion
And heat up, from the most basic of notions
When simple clock ticks become an explosion

Does the world not stop as it turns on it's gears?
Pause as it's shook by ticking commotion
How can everything not **** it's head to hear
When those little beats become an explosion

Does nothing ever turn to witness this rush-
Or see- Or feel- this explosive feat?
Then whispered, following the lightest touch,
You say:
"I can feel your heart beat"

Written about an occurrence between me and my girlfriend