Members
Montreal, Quebec
If you like my work, find my blog at https://letrangerechezelle.wordpress.com/ (Ariel Baptista is a pen name)
F/out there
I’m not supposed to be here.
South Africa pretoria
I seek companionship. True companionship. Or as most people know it: love True self hatred thrives in denial Praise our saviour jesus.
Poems
Philia
Feb 2014
Once I met this guy,
in a hot night summer.
We both in the beach.
Sitting side by side.
We just known each other for like,
maybe 10 minutes.
but, he trust me enough to tell his whole life.
He dreams about that star.
He named that star, 'Ariel'
He says, Ariel only appears on a summer.
and every summer, he spends his night to talk to Ariel.
He says, Ariel is his guardian angel,
Ariel brings luck and love.
Ariel brings him to Elena.
He dreams about Elena.
a **** brunette he met on Summer 2008.
He says, Elena really brighten up his day.
She's his first love,
they spend their summer love in this beautiful beach.
they only 18 and stupid. they don't know much.
then she left.
she left without a words.
and it really broke his heart.
but he's survived.
Ariel listen to him in a quiet.
Ariel may not give any advice or motivation to him,
Ariel maybe billion miles away from him,
"but, Ariel always there.."
he says,
"who need chicks if I already have Ariel?"
"you know, I can dance all night with Ariel.
I can laugh, I can sing, or I can cry with Ariel."
,he says.
He says,
every time he look at the sky,
every time Ariel wink at him,
He feels like everything is okay.
everything is complete.
He fall in love with Ariel.
*He fall in love with a star.
in a hot night summer.
We both in the beach.
Sitting side by side.
We just known each other for like,
maybe 10 minutes.
but, he trust me enough to tell his whole life.
He dreams about that star.
He named that star, 'Ariel'
He says, Ariel only appears on a summer.
and every summer, he spends his night to talk to Ariel.
He says, Ariel is his guardian angel,
Ariel brings luck and love.
Ariel brings him to Elena.
He dreams about Elena.
a **** brunette he met on Summer 2008.
He says, Elena really brighten up his day.
She's his first love,
they spend their summer love in this beautiful beach.
they only 18 and stupid. they don't know much.
then she left.
she left without a words.
and it really broke his heart.
but he's survived.
Ariel listen to him in a quiet.
Ariel may not give any advice or motivation to him,
Ariel maybe billion miles away from him,
"but, Ariel always there.."
he says,
"who need chicks if I already have Ariel?"
"you know, I can dance all night with Ariel.
I can laugh, I can sing, or I can cry with Ariel."
,he says.
He says,
every time he look at the sky,
every time Ariel wink at him,
He feels like everything is okay.
everything is complete.
He fall in love with Ariel.
*He fall in love with a star.
Tawanda Mulalu May 2015
Rain Song.
Tawanda Mulalu
May 2015
Bathtub music and drums played on the surface
of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds
the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me.
Scrubbed you off my skin again for
the umpteenth night in a row. Row
row row our boat away from the constant,
constant rows. Stormy arguments and
weathered mistrust. You'll break me,
won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you
come drown with me Ariel? Won't you
come up with me to the kitchen and lock up
the door then lock up the oven then lock up
ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry?
But then how does cooking gas end up as sass
in a library? How did sustenance turn into
asphyxiation? Why are our hands on
each other's throats instead of being binded
by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness
of palms within palms and fingers interlocked
and question marks dispelled.
Splash! as way in and over my head
is the bathtub music
and my absorbent curls are
drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking
about the why you only call me when
you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking
about the way I cannot suppress you when
the cellphone has long gone quiet and
your Hughes of blue are still loud but
your red is dead.
Ariel, Ariel,
I want to be your dark-haired prince.
Ariel, Ariel,
my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink.
Ariel, Ariel,
gurgling away as the bathtub music fades
into ugly brown rings around the ceramic
pause button
that shows no hope of continuation
Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash!
as the false sea drifts away, the final splash!
that scatters bathtub music past the drain
and into the air. Ariel, Ariel,
you are the false rain
that my landlocked country never prayed for.
Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten
Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot.
You will not sing for me. You will not.
The final splash! past the drain and into the air
is you Ariel. The false rain.
The rain song of our endless games.
of Davy Jones's mirror: the ceramic holds
the sea, the sea, and all within it: ***** me.
Scrubbed you off my skin again for
the umpteenth night in a row. Row
row row our boat away from the constant,
constant rows. Stormy arguments and
weathered mistrust. You'll break me,
won't you? I'll break you, won't I? Won't you
come drown with me Ariel? Won't you
come up with me to the kitchen and lock up
the door then lock up the oven then lock up
ourselves in carbon-monoxide poetry?
But then how does cooking gas end up as sass
in a library? How did sustenance turn into
asphyxiation? Why are our hands on
each other's throats instead of being binded
by the absoluteness, the certainty, the assuredness
of palms within palms and fingers interlocked
and question marks dispelled.
Splash! as way in and over my head
is the bathtub music
and my absorbent curls are
drinking, drinking, drinking, thinking
about the why you only call me when
you're drinking, drinking, drinking; thinking
about the way I cannot suppress you when
the cellphone has long gone quiet and
your Hughes of blue are still loud but
your red is dead.
Ariel, Ariel,
I want to be your dark-haired prince.
Ariel, Ariel,
my country is landlocked but I still see you in the sink.
Ariel, Ariel,
gurgling away as the bathtub music fades
into ugly brown rings around the ceramic
pause button
that shows no hope of continuation
Ariel, Ariel, you are the final splash!
as the false sea drifts away, the final splash!
that scatters bathtub music past the drain
and into the air. Ariel, Ariel,
you are the false rain
that my landlocked country never prayed for.
Ariel, Ariel, toneless, begotten and forgotten
Ariel, Ariel. I cannot sing for you. I cannot.
You will not sing for me. You will not.
The final splash! past the drain and into the air
is you Ariel. The false rain.
The rain song of our endless games.
See 'Ariel' by Sylvia Plath and 'Birthday Letters' by Ted Hughes.