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: )
Seazy Inkwell Jan 2019
: )
I exist; morning oasis,

Counting down to the new year.

Insomnia hits.

All- Nighter.

Writing, reading until dawn.

I can't sleep, voices.

: )

I talk, I laugh,

why am I here, how did I become-

Darkness pools. Scars of light.

I rose into the earth.

: )

I'm fine, happy

what do you mean?

No, that really is me.

I pulled my teeth out.

: )

Have you seen loneliness? With dark circular eyes.

This red air smells sickeningly sweet.

Limbs over there, like my store bought lilies,

freshly cut.

: )

What is sad is this,

that you're forever happy,

forever right, forever free,

in the shadows,

beneath your sightless dreams

: )
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
Depression is flowers smelt like coffins,
She told me once,
I received her flowers and I knew why.
Coated with pains is her heart full of blues.
I planted poppies and
by dawn,
They already smelt
like her toxic cigarettes.
#addiction #sadness #depression #death
Seazy Inkwell May 2017
All those Fairy Tales he tells you;

all these Lies you've taken as Truth.

All the Paths that Disenfranchised my hope,

Running in semicircles,

Tripping over other people’s tails.        

                                                 ­                And Fell.
Seazy Inkwell Jul 2018
It all came flashing to me, most blindly

The moments we could be

The lake reflects the memories we could create

The mirror reflects the wonders this world would never see.



But I have been foolish once again,

Because I am not capable of job, I swear

My limbs crestfallen with burdens,

My hairs chained down with headaches,

My eyebrows down-casted with grey.

You would be better without me. So I let you be.



But if I were to see you, it would all come back to me,

The doubts programmed in my past

The self-hate, the despair, the trap

The choices that I believed

were to be your destiny and my map.



I hope our paths shall never cross again,

I crossed my fingers and crossed my heart.

In the crux of my soul a song sprang forth:

retrograde on its descent of another universe,

As you and I take a different course.
Seazy Inkwell Mar 2018
Isn’t it strange
That the ones who inspire me
Love not poetry.

So shrug when I weave my rhymes,
So nod to sleep as my words chimes,
To them, words are soundless mayhems.

Why not think in sensible terms,
The bridges, the trains, and the spaceship to the moon,
It wasn’t art in the living things,
It’s the mechanism of human beings.

Heed this then.

Metal gears shall fray,
Numbers may betray
Theories rust away before eyes,
The Circle turns to its tail and dies.

Then tangent to my heart,
Where statistics cannot lie,
There once was a me
And once was a you.
I used to destroy my arts/poems, thinking since I made them I can do anything to them as I please. But the art of mine took a life of their own, destroying them is like throttle the life out of some fragile creatures. The guilt hunts me.
I shouldn't buy into the idea that art is useless. This is to eulogize my lost art pieces and lost times.
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
Tribute to Conrad Roy III (of the Michelle Carter case)

He said he felt small,
Like a particle with a pointless future.
She texted the time has come,
Go inside and **** yourself.
In this lonely parking lot.
Words never seem so poisonous.
Couple sentences a new life cost.
Look toward the direction
Technology and evil have taken us.
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
She wants to become a girl again,
After two divorces, three kids and
pieces of heart blended
into the uneven daily affairs.

She wishes to be innocent once more.
To see the sky through her amber eyes;
To laugh carelessly down a penniless neighborhood;
To recollect the fragrant things she holds dear.

Where is the Anne of Green Gables?
Where is the Alice in Wonderland?
Where are Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy?
Where did the flowers go to die.

She tells me she misses all the sunrise,
Gazing into a blue sunset,
The cooking that tastes no longer loving,
The perfume that smells no longer happy,
The loneliness that is no longer heroic.

She carries on, with her broken wings,
and the birth of a woman's concrete essence.
[sister poem--1|| 8/15/17
Seazy Inkwell May 2017
In go the stabs to my synthetic skin.
Sew my eyes,
recreate them with the charm of Rumpelstiltskin’s tricks.
Stitch my lips,
Color them with the scarlet of Snow White’s cursed apple.
Snip my hairs,
String together the golden threads of Rapunzel’s deathly charm.
Stuff my *******,
Fill them with the ingredients of witches’ wildest fantasies.
Mold my legs,
Fit them in for the glasswork of Cinderella shoes.
Tattoo my heart,
make each beat a praiseworthy beauty.
A poem about plastic surgery and standardized beauty.
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
Black                                              |             ­                                           Blue
it is the start of new things
as I walk down the debris
of firecrackers and snow
expectant like color black           |
                                                               ­                I shop around with ashes
                                                        |                   pilling inside me the sky a
                                                               ­              hyacinth blue and the lake
                                                                ­           a stale grey that hibernates.
Then I smiled.                               |
                                                               ­     I sobbed within the color blue.  
I feel rich with the presence
of you like starlit boulevard that
stretches beyond my neon nails.
                                                         |­    I am famished with your absence,
                                                                ­    as stars shatter away I began to
                                                                ­                      live in the past when
                                                            ­             I have not known anything.
You will always be there              |
clothed solemn black
before the coming of spring.

                                                         |     ­             You were buried in white,
                                                            before the winter begins to settle in.
What a wonderful time it is--
as I wait for tomorrow
                                                         |        What a horrifying moment it is
                                                              ­         as I search for my yesterdays.
Thank you for reading!
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
Eyes shut down on a dead city,
I sense the vibration of my deep inhalation.
(All the snickers lost their lustres.)

Mouths closed beneath the galaxy of prosperity,
I gasped at the tremor of my heart's creation.
(The siren drowned out the deserved cheers.)

Still my thoughts flashing into reality,
Reminiscing the fingerprints of those gone before me.
(Fingers all poised to my forehead now.)

Listen in on the silence of the cosmos.
Suddenly my self control collapses-----

-Out////to///the////air
my////rages////flew
like////servants
to////my////pride-

The vibration that is me explodes,
a seed of fire leaps through the weeds.
(They all fall back now; I raised higher my fists).

Proliferating in the ashes,
My memories, my love and my deathless ambition.  

A spasm of colors as the door crashes,
I am here against all their mean wishes,

Claiming the shameless vanity
of being unapologetically me.

As I exhale.
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
spare me a share
Of your despair

the waxes and wanes
Of your moans and aspirins

load down to me your Disease
Of past hardship and misuse

the virus and bacteria
Of lonesome hysteria

i will doctor your heart
Of a harsh weather and a loaded cart

till your clouded eyes reflect
Of your classic unyielding effect
by the bedside, wish I could carry on her pains instead of being a useless standby
Seazy Inkwell Apr 2018
Something good will come out of this soot,
this pain, these rejections
these harsh treatments, these hard times.

There will be reasons for
this hardship, this loneliness,
these tears, these sweats.

No, it's not success
not an award, a medal, or a praise
that everyone looks for.

It was the tears and sweats
shifting in the circulation of blood
scratching day and night
calling in every second of existence
that oscillate, converge, and instill
into a pearl of the time being,

that makes clams of us all.
Seazy Inkwell May 2019
You simply looked at her,
how the lights play upon her color
Her hair, color of fresh rye,
Her eyes, doppelgängers of morning sky
Her skin, pristine and pure.

It was all there, written upon their enchanted eyes
It was all here, echoed in your doubtful heart
Upon that stage, carpeted in red
A voice sang and between glances you realized

Those heels of diamonds won't fit you
This dress of this shade of aqua
Is made for her, will match with her eyes
This necklace, segments of diamonds
Is designed for her, will match her spotless skin
These applause, smelling of suburbs
Is waiting for her, will see their daughters in her

You didn't look deep enough,
your thoughts sunk along with the rest of you
your darker complexion, shorter figure, narrower eyes
If you have a daughter you will tell her
she is not made for this, the world is not hers.

So when they ask whence
they should point the spotlights to
When her eyes meeting yours,
smiling, always smiling.

'I think you should go', you said
the better choice, better voice,
walk perfectly upon stages
created by people like you.
Even her pictures will look nicer

But I saw you far off and I knew,
she is no longer a person but an idol for you
she is everything you wish you could be
she fits exactly in the corset of your insecurity

Because you are the one
writing the script, moving the chairs
working late nights, shifting the gears,
cooking the food, perfecting her looks

until every second of her is yours
until your beauty drains into hers
i sometimes wonder why people would think other racial features are more appealing... but again these cosmetics/clothes look better for these looks... but who made them? Who continues to make them?
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2018
I stand,

not for anyone or anything, not for any categories, boxes, standards

Things that add or drag me

You breath,

you don't deserve to be mistreated, misunderstood, misrepresented

or subtracted by this world.

I fight,

for myself, for the ideas that illuminate darkness, for the good and honest people

who multiply my joy,

You speak,

for all your beliefs, your experience, and your important part upon this world,

a world divided.

I run,

without care or fear, stumbling and aiming for the horizon

where high hopes expand exponentially.

You walk,

patiently and devotedly, all your plans intact in that brilliant mind

a mind proportional to mine.

We learn,

Times may change, words may rearrange, people may disengage,

Since we have parallel lives, never converging, never emerging, never meeting

Know then: you are the one, equal to none, when we hold hands.
Peace
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
--this life is a fibre-
--entwined within wires of an universal software-

--these eyes are conditioned to see-
--the networks of automated screens-

--these ears were robotic-
--programmed to listen to social expectations-

--this nose will be an animation-
--sniffing through the scent of anonymity-

--this mouth is charged to repeat-
--the oil of toxic lies and false beliefs-

--this head was controlled by a circuit of words-
--with fillings of violence and screams-
--pursuing a future that never will be-
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
from      time        to      time
there is     a romance      of being       alone
   the     imaginations       she  powdered
                                 generously    upon the   colorless  reality.
      metaphors   that  she sews    upon the   sleeves
                         of     melancholy.
her girlfriends   and she    roamed
                 the    ups  and     downs of the  earth,
while their        mothers screamed
                                    for   them      to be ladylike.
     saturday afternoons,
they   procrastinated    upon   pastries and     honey
                 crystallized           fairy      tales
courteous     animals
                                 riding on the      coattail of      dreams
      a lighthearted                feeling    others tried to      snooze.

they    observe things         through glitters    of their vapor.
    they   dote on the    humor of ice    creams
                       and sunlight       of   scarlet pink.
    as we    laugh    with charm,
                                            what a    way   with words,
                 a   lopsided    smile,
a      head    of   curls,
                                        a    flock     of  girls.
[sister poem 2]
Seazy Inkwell Jul 2017
He loves her
With the violence
Of his pride.

He once told me,
She would be better
Had she been a man.

As much as
I love him,
It was by far
The harshest thing,
He has ever said
about her.
Seazy Inkwell Apr 2018
The bed breathed deeply.
The furnitures covered with
your luminescent fingerprints.
The silverware died slowly,
in the grey sink.
The house tried to talk to me/

I was afraid to step out,
Outside the sympathy of my house.
Into the streets spilled with
people of your asymmetric eyes
My house tried to talk to me.

I now have nobody left to lose,
As I lay on the carpet with a sense of sooth,
The chandelier finally sang its vocal cord loose,
The wires looped instinctively like prehistoric noose.
My house tried to talk to me.

Then I know I am not alone,
The house teems with your pulse,
The glass splits from echo of your voice.
The house tells me so.

I broke through the door,
torn away from the umbilical cord of my solitude.
Melted through the heat of the cheering multitude.
My house tells me, taking care of each word.

My house tells me,
I am not alone,
And you will always
be with me in spirit only.
Seazy Inkwell Jul 2018
There will come a day
When we would no longer be the same
> when wrinkles and creases
like ivies caress your forehead
> when the bitterness of this world
eats you away like leprosy
> when pain and darkness
swill out your features
like this everlasting wave of time

< I would still know this smile, this wink,
this laugh out loud

< I'd know you by your love of little things
< the eyes that are turned toward the sunshine
< the ears tuned toward the fireworks
< the shallow voice and deep words

< Then I'd know it'd be you
< I'd search you amid the crowds
< Then I'd turn my head in shame and joy
< Finding someone like you

<For this is far greater,
> than the distance, the chasm of hearts, aged times,
> and your hatred
> that separates us
have you ever liked an author so much that you wished he/she could be here with you?
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
In nighttime living creatures fell dead asleep by herds |
I alone am an orphan to the darkness and the candlelight |
And my dreams depart for whimsical lands with the migratory birds |

Under the roofs people sleep with their eyes shut tight |
All the dramas of daily life locked down their windows |
I alone am an orphan to the darkness and the candlelight |

Here my imagination took its feathery flight |
Between these shadows of empty cul-de-sac |
All the dramas of daily life locked down their windows |

The moon steals out the stories in inspiration’s sack |
Here with my dreams, desires, and depressions out of sight |
Between these shadows of empty cul-de-sac |

Improvisation opened his iridescent lips for a bite |
My melatonin ignites the fire within the constellations |
Here with my dreams, desires, and depressions out of sight |

Legends, myths, and superstitions find me with consternations |
In nighttime living creatures fell dead asleep by herds |
My melatonin ignites the fire within the constellations |
And my dreams depart for whimsical lands with the migratory birds|
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2018
There is a shift in the air
        a divergent current, before an
              outpouring of shredded clouds.

                                   There is a difference
                             in the air
                                    said our reflections,
                                             irises caught in thin veins.

           There are creases upon my dried conscience
                  the sadness tears out of my eyes
                                       Threading my past memories
                              into cycles of fallacies.

                                         Yes, it must be something in the air
                                               the air we both grew up in
                                                 the breaths we smeared upon
                                                          birthday candles months apart.

                                                         ­            We had the same troubles,
                                                                   corresponding doubles,
                                                        ­    the same ventilation of lungs.

               Then the past settled, we grew up
                            our face darkened,

                          So I let out a flash of laughter
                                                your hissing thoughts closely pursuing it
                                                              ­       like two strands of lighting
                    Perforating the piers of my gut
Sure to switch off
                                           My Volatile Heart.
Seazy Inkwell Oct 2020
So it ends. Life

After I heard your Good News. I said —
I had to step out.
My chest heaves.

Left everything inside.
Passport. ID. Savings.

I said: Wait, I will be back soon.

Eyes said. You broke my heart.
Everything is yours.
Do with them whatever you please.

You don’t get it. You smiled.
I can’t wait for tomorrow. You said.
I said: Sure tomorrow.

Do you not see the cracks in my smile.
The fissures of where it’s broken.
Inside my wrinkles of two decades chasing, now lost.

Step out into the cutting air
Step in out of breath in my car in a weather so fair
Tears slithering past sniveling grovel ground
I use everything I own
to buy a ticket for Elsewhere

I lived like nothing. Eating scraps.
Days clone into nights.
I dreamt of nothing.
Bug bites and frosts rise.

A good news it is.
So it goes, I left
Haven’t turned back for twenty years.

You come back to me in dashes
Fractured sun streams
Gregorian chants
I say.

I said.
Seazy Inkwell Nov 2020
Again, the face that passes me

With the same care-worn fatigue

His lips are pursed, dark burgundy

His hair flaming maize, his eyes whatever that’s left of the sky

Again, the clock strikes dawn as the stars cleared

He and I, we work hard, for a promotion

I see sparrows playing hopscotch on the electric wires

Summer steals his memory

woods burns out putrid whiteness in his trodden path

He and I, we cut sleep, drink cheap coffee

I see sparrows die skewered, their heads smashed in by the bleached windows

The sun catches them, clip their wings

He and I, sweating like machines in our cubicles

When he comes back to me, his hair singed with crude oil, the clouds are silent

I can’t hear him through the lisp of my nightmare

Hands, hands that typed on keyboards, that tied ropes, that sorted papers, that handled raw meat

Fingers, uncut nails, leaves that sap veins dry in my arms

He, the Icarus I picture outside my office window

I, follow after Dante, as the week descends down to Monday
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
This melody keep stuck in my mind,
Weaving its way into my memories.
Each note shine for someone else,
When I look back years from now.
The words all break free of their meanings,
Only the music live on with incoherent alcohol.
My life is made of songs,
As I tread
                 My
                       Way
                              Onto
                                     The
                                           Stage
                                                     Of
                                                          Cacoph­ony.
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2018
Regrets litter in my soul as I look back

Papers and pens that made my eyes gag

This is the road I choose

A trail where works and study suffuse

This is the life I abuse

A desk of overload books and a head with no amuse

Should I sell my life to marriage, to money, to fame

Or should I work dignified until my hair turns to grey flames

I did nothing as my life is reduced

I accuse myself of living the harder way

Of peeling away my youth when the mind cannot sway



I never will be like those on the island of green

They were steps ahead before we came to be

So life must go on and I would swallow down pain

Palming other's sins, sparing no grin.

But would it have been better, is it the best way,

I work with erased antenna for medals harsh to the taste.



My head tells me to move on,

But my heart convinces me otherwise.
Seazy Inkwell Apr 2019
Melodious, luminous

a small plumage of sounds

Found you, fond of you

The first string laid across the back of Spring, you sing

till my eyes grow rusted and my limbs frost with moss, 

you perch still upon the branches of my broken fingers,

missing not a beat, a note, a loss.

*

Sing for this sunken world continuously,

my one and only
soloist
Max Richter - Vivaldi - The Four Seasons, 1. Spring
https://youtu.be/DLDvbnK_Sqk
Today I learned I alone I'm responsible for my emotions, the only one who cannot let go.
Seazy Inkwell May 2017
At some point of these time continuums,
the Universe is going to End.

/Turning its shell, closing its cover,
/as if a marvelous page of story like Earth/
has never happened.
/ As if all our technologies, all our civilizations, all our enlightenment has never been a reality/

As if I have never loved you/
as if all the dead promises that are cursed to last for eternity,
holding on to their own graveyards
before this channel called Life ends,

expanding,
radiating,
pixelating
before emerging to a single point,
the last ray of salvation before everything succumbs to their own ends.

The incoming breath of air,
the pulsing hearts,
and the fleeting time that slowly chews their bones.

All happening without me.
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
Hanging by the hinge of your last lies. /
Throwing out the legacy of our cremated honesty. /
Counting shoots by the destiny’s thighs. /

Let's start all over like them celebrity, \
All from the right angle and places. \
After we lied in the face of eternity, \
Selling our ways to the illegal graces. \

Next just need some bullet proof toes, |
Running near the fire range as wars start to cease.|
Be content with your diamonds sewn into our teeth. |
On the way to dirt ditches honoring souvenirs from Satan. |

Yet I promise you on the way up we annoyed the Angels. /
With another heavenly promise I load up my gun. /

Only if...
you…...
hadn’t lied
I…...
hadn’t sinned….. and
They…..
hadn’t started the fire.
………
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2018
Papers, Papers, Papers

Whiter than aching teeth,

Whiter than whites of tilted eyes,

Whiter than funeral wreaths.

My hands shake as I write this,
Filed away myths; Stolen lined sheets
 My index finger chained by red tapes,

words mix and ground breaks,
I'm the one the world forsakes

Yellow maize, littered leaves,
all twisted into
black ink and clean sharp white paper blades.



-------"I am in a bit of daze," I tell myself, "look at those flaccid bits;

there lay the logs who use to be the jungle of my childhood dreams."

------"Don't be amazed," I replied, "these leafless branches and twigs are for 
your Papier-Mâché degrees."


So I listen to my second self once,

the more logical cynical satirical one,

Treading on the plot of their paper works,

playing crosswords as anxiety uncork

my thoughts turn to the bankable orcs,

just as my career forks



Maybe I should be like my mother,

Marking numbers on a deck of cards-- waltzing with Chance.

Maybe I should be like my father,

Toiling for some rich men's grandson-- seething in Trance.

Maybe I should be like the Other,

Going along with the system-- thanking myself

beneath a cap, a diploma, a piece of paper.



I wore these books like bank notes tuxedoes,

I was promised the world by the credits I borrowed.

Must I go along with the mechanism of their game,

or should I rise up against all odds

Opposing, debating, rebelling against

this bundle, this trouble, funneling me into no-tomorrows

Or must I write it all down,

in my prayers against their lawyers, who need no reminds

Or must I shred, smear, and tear the papers with my own bare hands



But what will I ever be to them, friends?

A papercut, perhaps.
congrats on your first day
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
They live with the stars like paparazzi, 
Courting the glitters, clutters, and flatterers of gold. 
Those who worshipped the fame and shame, 
will never discover this star of mine. 

This star shone, out of the corner of your eyes, 
with the modesty that radiates shards of lights, 
kindling the melting points of our numb souls. 


This star whose idea lingers like morning tea, 
winding down the esophagus of crude languages. 


This star whose belief flares the hard reality, 
filters out the saturation of the winter's beauty. 

This star whose faith remains like coming spring, 
brandishing the joy and wisdom we failed to see. 

This star is dull, never recognized 
by the prestige of science and illiteracy of popularity. 

This star trusts strayed ideals,
an outcast among the crowd. 
a talent to behold, 
a legend never told, 
a moral never sold.
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2019
Listening to your music makes me very bored

So I headed downtown for the things I can’t afford

I walked into the crowded lake till my feet got sored

If the traffic questioned me I’d say I was lured

For a glass of ice and an old album I stored

It made four. I listened till the choir singers broke their last vocal chord.

For years they trademarked desire, eventually it topped the Billboard

the train got jammed midway, again this team had scored

I didn’t say anything; I even signed the peace accord

All the piano keys marched out my door, saying ‘cursed was my Lord!’

I couldn’t sing well, but I walked behind them with a sword

Only my guitar slept soundly; at midnight it even snored
Seazy Inkwell Jul 2017
Speckled with dust,
Checkered with rust,
                                                                ­  My shoes bravely take the steps.
Some kicked upon the grass,
Some taken to the last mass,
Some dangled during the class,
                                                       then the sassy ones I took to the dance,
                                                        peering over your shoes my true love.
They whisper secretly at night,
Guard us as we roam in our dreams.
                                                      I wish you would stay with me tonight,
                                                                like my left shoe cradles my right.
Shine, my shoes!
                                                             Tell them the places we conquered;
                                                              Re­count the troubles we ventured;
                                                       The money and youth we squandered.
                                                        
Look down the ground and admire each shoe,
Every one knows the life we've been through.
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2018
In her dream,
She was drinking latte in an unknown country,
when the man approached her,

my wife hates you, he said,
you have to pay extra for the coffee.
She had to go,
for fear of the jealousy in his wife's eyes,
because of everything she had.

She has always been privileged,
The princess of a rich kingdom.
The precious one in the family.

Occasionally she heard bad news,
about women in other countries,
but surely, she thought,
they were too violent to be true.

Then she's walking down the street,
newly paved, the king's pride
a group of girls and middle-aged men
gathered in the town square.

A girl's arm reached out from the car window,
She took it, their fingers briefly unite,
before the girl's head was split by a knife.

The streets were saturated with red things,
The girls were murdered one by one,
while she watched, helpless.

Then she felt a hand tightening behind
the back of her head,
In her dream, she became one of the girls,
She's no different from them.

Always at that point, she woke up.
What's wrong, he asked, you were paralyzed with fear.
I had the most lucid and helpless dream, she'd reply.

But surely it must be a dream,
It's too violent to be true
or is it she's sleeping now,
oblivious to anything?
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
The moments shattered by the cameras,
The lights transpired beneath your fleeting smile,
       A lone car shoot through city’s Auroras,
Dilated moons chant cycles of your spell.

Engineered through time and space lies us all,
You on the conveyor belts of highways,
Whose lives fall out of synch without a call,
Blurred by their fingerprints our future days.

May life digest you slowly, feed the graves,
Shall you return, gasoline infused in my veins,
Fluorescent street lights outline things we crave,
You could offer in your palm for fast lanes.

Like a piece of code no one would ever solve,
Or were they shocked by the electricity of this love.
Seazy Inkwell Jul 2018
I used to love statues, too.

Their perfect outlines, the curves of their shapes

the edges of their bodies.

Those were the popular ones.

I used to love statues with my walls down

and my heart bare.

I worshiped them like a state of being,

a mindset, a world of advertisements and brands.

They were a popular bunch.

So I broke my heart over one and the other,

the statues without names, androids with no feelings,

I shed my tears upon their coiled stone hair,

Calluses formed where I touched their fingers with my own.

Greeks and Romans praised them,

and forever their unfeeling cold stare gazed into mine

Before I realize the God that is not embedded in

granite, sediment, or marble

But only an idol made from words and other animal’s bones.
Seazy Inkwell May 2017
How I wish to nestle

In the flavor and smoke of your supper.


When I lived a homeless citizen,

Missing every ingredient of ancestry.


Whenever you string with dexterity,

The oregano, the soil and the wheat.


Filling in my cups a nostalgia worth to weep,

As the motherhood redeems my dying innocence.


The fruition of labors, withered dreams and secret treats.

When food and memories didn’t have to be refrigerated.


Every natural delicacy straight from the earth,

Covering the rooftop of my truth and your cuisine.
to my mother whom i haven't seen for two years.
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
Colorate surfaces of her skin,
Signature forevers on his violin.
Seazy Inkwell Sep 2017
The city spearheads the futures we sincerely sold,
As it pluckers your pennies and your coins of gold.

I felt poor amid the auras of their fearsome metals,
Cowering in the clothes of our daily struggles.

I am destitute enough
To bleach out the interests of my cards,
To shatter your savings for a disabled future,
To rummage the stock markets for apertures.

Yet within you exhales tentacles of the color Yellow.

Yellow as in,
The scattered stars that scorch the injured sky,
The mellowing voices of neon artificial lights,
The apex of fire alight in frostbitten nights,
And the yolk of hope my cheers rely.

So while you chase the sun
with your copper-clad hands,
remember but this:

all that glitters is not gold,
It’s the color Yellow in these eyes I behold.
Seazy Inkwell May 2018
Over time they will look back on you,
The one who rose with morning drew
Cared for everything, and have so few,

Lastly, they will take up on your cue,
When your words become the last adieu,
And people you encouraged start life anew.

Lately, they will think back on you,
The hardworking and patient mule,
For you our thanks overdue,
For your sacrifices, we never knew.
Thanks for reading!
Whom does this poem make you think of?
Feedbacks appreciated/
Seazy Inkwell Mar 2018
Blown away sorrows,
Seep through pillows,
Was I mad was I sad
When I came with no “hi”s
And left with no “goodbye”s

The place is close by,
But I walk back I drive past
I duck away to avoid pests of regrets

Never able to cut open
The memories endeared
In its own empty crust.

So I look toward future with lust
Afraid of the going back
Afraid of the circling into myself
Fastened into idealized past.

Nobody ever come back this way,
Nothing ever stay the same,
None ever let their sentiments sway,
Not my fights not my thoughts not my defeats
not even me.
i don't know. i always pass by this place where i used to know. i keep thinking of the people there. but for sure they will no longer know me. i was the quiet one.  
but how they embroidered the scenes of my memories....
Seazy Inkwell May 2017
1

Tragic struck,

Everything fractures into abstract art.

A new dimension of humiliation

Undulating with fresh cement gray,

Walling me into the parody of nameless faces.

2

Into the embrace of aged Solitude,

Chancing a broken heartbeat,

Stitched up with swords of wounded Self-Esteem.

With passing of days i fought the beaks of invasive Nightmares.

3

Here into the mirror of my past and future,

A wonder growing to the wrinkles of Your reflections.

A lightning strike through the core of my chaotic Soul.

Looking into the eyes of Your knowing Mona Lisa Smile.

4
Down falls my metallic tears.
Seazy Inkwell May 2017
I now tell you a #storyofmylife,

Starting in the autumn of #2007 with quite a strife,

To be precise say #barcamp for my very first one,

since then people have used #hashtag for

#fahsion, #selfie, #art and #fun.



Anyhow I am nothing like a number sign,

Nor do I stand alone like a straight #line.

You may dislike the way people #followme,

Or you might to #follow along with a sense of #glee.



But don't I just #love #my #friends,

You let me know the #world, #news, and a sense of #motivation.

With you I have lived through many a

#bestoftheday, #night and #cool #lifestyle passion.



Since my #birthday you hand me many #powerofdreams,

#IceBucketChallenge,#BlackLivesMatter, #BringBackOurGirls, #LoveWins,

As I live on in the #songs and #voices of vibrant #life hour,

In this point we emerge into a stream of #peoplepower.



Along the #tenyears lifespan #we continue to see,

Singing along with #music, #beauty and #life of diversity,

#myself #work #happily #4youreyesonly

#smile #peace #love #withme
Seazy Inkwell Apr 2018
----
Yes officer, they left two weeks ago,
The woman killed herself, is that so?
I don’t know much but
Seeing me by the market, she always said hello
She was pretty but never petty
She’s a lady who ended in a tragedy

Well, you see the husband was rich
He made a fortune in his business
Money, diamonds, roses, rings,
Whatever she wished.

So they were together for a while,
Her body was his fancy,
Her love rooted in the money.
But she was not mean, mind you,
She only cared for the materials
Like a house to shelter in,
Like a car to shield her from the rain,
Like jewelries to make her seem vain.

But how time flies,
The lines dug around the side of her eyes,
Extending underneath her cosmetics,
Wound around her expanding body.

But how love lies,
He was seeing someone else,
Keep exaggerating her faults,
Her ever-growing doubts.
I know, it’s a useless story to tell,
After all we did not want to see her fall.
Her jewels ripped out her neck
Shredded were the silks
And a house left in wreck.

But, sir, I’m truly sorry for her
A someone stripped down to no one
Her life unstrung, her story unsung,
And all her things undone.
I am thinking of writing a short story based on this poem. Any feedback/ advice is welcome. Thanks
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2020
America, land of the free
Is it wild sarcasm or exclusive pedigree?
Things are getting better
Certainly it is for you
But what about your neighbors
Things will get better
Said street walkers collect loot and spoils
All you ever want is money, designer bags
As bystanders gazed in cold blood
What is eternal is never owned

My years as an outsider has shown me:
To love even if it is unrequited
To question incessantly
To see the humans inside the systems
To never take Truth for granted
What makes America great?
I’m saying it not to flatter or frame
Why did so many immigrants rush in?

It‘s not what the ‘has been’, the ‘is’ that matter
It’s the ‘can be’, the ´will be’, the ‘shall be’
The Dream, the Pride, the Fearless
The organizers, activists, writers, artists
Grassroots, gathered for a common good
The pearls of blaze unstrung from the Statue’s torched hand
East to West, ideas spun and in good faith, left human wills to run
As long as you chase down the horizon, track down the rails of Apollonian glory
There in Liberty you shall be found
Who
Seazy Inkwell Jun 2017
Who
It is hard to find the light,
To be oneself.
It is easy to retreat into darkness,
To be someone else.
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