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 Aug 2013 Sarina
vircapio gale
somber song haiku*
/|\












early autumn chill
somber toning frogling bass
stars beam silent truth













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mid summer hints its end
here too
the night extends in tones
lamenting twilit choke of day--
changeling-hours' ease: a memory
offsetting later dawns

yet deeper chills portend
an autumn's coming tide
of ending-songs

i too am passing
as a haiku's universal scope
of timeless time,
galactic spin within the frogling's utterance,
makes morbid rhythms eyed;
i fear i'm croaking right along this somber bass,
and wonder *is it time? so soon?

envisioning the ancient host of haiku masters
brittle, fade
in unison of tears
or tranquil noddings at the season's cutting
partial circles round the sun

i read
i am the aging frog
by virtue of a poem,
and then it lets me leap!




.
thanks to indelible Mae for her generosity of craft, wisdom, beauty --and for allowing me to include her poem here!
you are an inspiration :)
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/somber-song-haiku/
 Aug 2013 Sarina
AJ
Orange
 Aug 2013 Sarina
AJ
I was a twin,
Only my twin was a year and a half younger than me.
Her name was orange,
And she hated everyone.
She was also a cat,
But that is not important information.
I used to feed her yogurt.
And throw her down the slide with me.
We were real hood *******,
Manda and her kot.
We both had blue eyes, red hair, and devilish smiles.
We ruled the world from the top of the swing set,
But she froze to death in a snow storm when I was five.
Now I rule it by myself.
She
“Write about ***” I whisper to myself
“No. No, that’s disgusting” I respond with vigor
“Write about love.” I suggest in the condescending tone adults often take with me
But I do not want to write about love,
I have never been in love
I have never felt anything like love
I hate writing about love
I hate the pronouns
I always want to write about hers
About the smell of perfume on her dress
And the way her hair curls and twists like the plotline of an Oscar Wilde novel
I always want to write about she’s
And the way she never makes fun of my silence
And the way she laughs
And the way she cheats off of me in geometry,
Even though we both know my answers are always wrong
She’s like a triangle
A cute
But if I were a shape
I’d be obtuse
Because when  we walk to together in the hallway I always get the urge to grab her hand
But I never have
And  I want to tell her to take off her makeup because she’s just so perfect
And you know she cried last week and I didn't know what to say
I never know what to say around her
But she never minds, she can have a conversation with me and I never have to say anything
And some days it takes all my restraint
Not to write about her
And I want to write about how I love her
I want to write about the way I love her
But hatred always hits me in the gut
And pain in the face
And shame cripples my fingers
So that I can never write she
And when he comes out of my pen
I rip the pages of my failed poem out of my notebook
And cry
Because I can’t stand writing lies
My entire life I was told little girls were made to be seen and not heard.
I was told women were meant to get married, serve a man, bear his children, and obey him.
I want to tell you that’s not true. Little girls are not made to be ***** receptacles and incubators; they were not made to be live in cooks or maids. Little girls were made to prove all the men in their lives wrong.
Little girls are made to pave the way for all the other little girls who’ll come after them so no little girls have to hear that their dreams are not valid because they were born with the disadvantage of being a woman in a man’s world.
Now when I speak I shout, when a man interrupts me I speak over him. When a man tries to tell me what I can do with my body, I speak out and I stop him.
I am not a silent force; I am not going to be a housewife simply because my father says women aren’t strong enough to be in the workforce.
I’m done being silent, I’m done being pushed aside, and when I get my first pay stub I’m going to take it to my father and say, “Look what you've caused.”
 Aug 2013 Sarina
Redshift
baby is supposed to be in bed.
if baby doesn't sleep,
baby doesn't mend
daddy made me promise
to rest my aching head
but baby is too tired
baby feels too dead.
 Aug 2013 Sarina
Redshift
all i said
was that i'd always wanted to own a used bookstore
since i was a kid
and you replied
that you could get used to
seeing my **** ***
behind a counter
i don't mean to be cliche
but that kind of escalated
rather quickly,
******
 Aug 2013 Sarina
Odi
Your heaven has failed me
On the days when I felt loading up the dish washer was a
Personal assault on my psyche
Your god has-
Run me over with his fists too many times
And made me believe it was paternal pat’s on the back
All the-
Pain I was feeling,
You carry the gravel in your teeth
To make sure its full of grit,
When you speak,
I say;
“you’re full of ****”

You say im just weak for the things
That have made me unholy.
I am weak for the things that have unbroken me.
These words are shrapnel
You let them sink into our skin there is no more dirt to chew
I will spend my last moments
Holding onto the ******* noose
I’m going down swinging
And if that means I’ll hang
So be it
There are worst ways to die

I know
Because I’ve died before

Nothing special happens. Ya’ll can stop dreaming.

Kindness isn’t supposed to taste so bitter
Being saved
Isn’t supposed to hurt so much
You-
Never knew how much the night sky despised the daylight
Until you moved to a country where it gets longer every year
You never knew how kind
The sun was to your skin-
Ive got tan lines where my noose used to swing
It took me three years to untie myself
And I still have scars

Whether they will be there or not in a few more years
I guess ill stick around and see just
How much ive
lost
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