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onlylovepoetry Feb 2023
(written for and with apologies to Ken Pepiton)

(A-pop-TOH-sis) A type of cell death in which a series of molecular steps in a cell lead to its death. This is one method the body uses to get rid of unneeded or abnormal cells. Also called
programmed cell death.
Ken Pepiton  “I found a word, *
apoptosis*  and I used it on some old bubbles that claimed to hold true love. You might find it useful for other crazy-makers common to mortal moments”.

Sep 2020


a rich commission this;
aged by being overlooked
for two years more,
reconciling it, if it were even possible
this mixed drink of crazy,
programmed cell death
old bubbles claiming true love holding!

flummoxed by the symmetry and the inherent
contradictory of these dual dueling notions,
struggle for a course of unification

and then:

Having known and lost true love,
more than once,
recall too well,
months when my heart cells died daily by the billions,
years of paining bubbles bursting,
till the heart at last purified,
by the emptying of

mortal moments.

the desperation of a grown man wondering if
peace and satisfactions would elude him forever,
deluded by weight of iron alternating currents of
hopefulness § hopelessness,
a sharp pain
morphing way too slowly
into a
dull ache heartburn
so well.
that yet persists
as a just below the surface swelling in my memory
even now

crazy it made me,
no cure cute for this uncommon cooling
of heart and soul,
lines on my face
witness attest
to where tears and failings eroded skin
by marking lines on my face.

”I was unrecognizable to myself”*(1)

no joke this
a grown man  despairing
like a teenager’s lament,
robbed worse by the adult knowledge of the scarcity
of finding
the only true treasure humans could actually
possess, keep and nurture…

yes, Ken,
I find these world of words
you gifted me

useful in ways untold,
but take this telling,
this one here,
with grace given
and knowing
that it only took
from me
about 10 to the 11th power power(2)
of heart

Wed Feb 1
(1)lyric from  “Philadelphia” by Bruce Springsteen
(2) 10 to the 11th power, or  
100000000000 ce
las lost every day by the human body
Mark Wanless Jun 2021
do not burn the cloak
with me it is beyond the
ken of fay wisdom
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
Mattel gave us Barbie and Ken,
They never grew old, according to them,
But, can you handle reality?
Barbie and Ken are now over fifty!
Barbie is fat with varicose veins,
With hairy legs, not so vain,
And Ken shall never see his toes again,
His six pack has turned into a beer belly,
Walking makes Ken quiver like jelly,
But, hey, they're forever Mattel,
Barbie's too old to say, "Ken, go to hell!"
Sad, but true, our childhood friends,
Yet they did grow old, Barbie and Ken........
Feedback welcome.
Ken Alorro Sep 2015
Sa labing-apat na araw na nakilala kita
Minahal ka ng buo
Puso'y napahinto, natulala
Dahan-dahang bumilis ang bawat pintig
At sa bawat pintig na ginagawa nito
Dala'y dugo na umaasang sana mahalin ako

Namumulang pisngi
Namumulang labi
At kagaya ng dugo sa katawan
Akoy pinaikot-ikot, ikot, ikot...
Hanggang sa maubos ang enerhiya
Na baon-baon mula ulo hanggang paa

At sa dahon ng saging ako ay ibinalot
Na parang betamax
Iniluwa ng hindi nasarapan
Ikinamuhi dahil sa lasa
'Di ko alam kung ako'y tanga o nagmamahal lamang
At kung alin man ako sa dalawa
Hindi na mahalaga dahil alam kong mahal kita

Sa labing-apat na araw na nakilala kita,
Pinaglaruan mo ako
At kagaya ng mga bata sa lansangan
Ako ay naging kalsada
At ikaw, ikaw ang trak
Na piniling di pansinin ang mga butas sa ibabaw ng dibdib
Dinaanan lang
Hinayaang bukas
Nakabilad sa araw
At sa pagbuhos ng ulan
Tinulungang lunurin ng tubig na may dalang putik

Sa labing-apat na araw na nakilala kita
Minahal ka ng buo
Nang walang halong pag-aalinlangan
Na di inisip kung mahal din ba ako o hindi
Pero sa ating munting panahon
Nalaman ko na ikaw ay isang relihiyon
Na piniling isantabi ang agham
At ako, kagaya ng lahat ng bagay sa mundo mo
Ay isang bersikulo lamang ng iyong bibliya
Na kung hindi maintindihan
Gagabayan ang sariling kamay
At ibubuklat ang mga kasunod na pahina

Mahal, sa labing-apat na araw na nakilala kita
Pagod na akong maging kalsada
Ayaw ko nang maging parte ng iyong bibliya
At higit sa lahat
Hindi ako ang iyong dugo
Na gagawing betamax at ibebenta
Kapalit sa kapirasong salapi
Mahal, hindi ako iyon

At ngayong tapos na ang labing apat na araw
Magiging mahalaga ako para sa akin
Nasaktan, nadurog
Pero noon 'yon!

Mula ngayon tatanggi na ako
Tatanggi akong masaktan
Tatanggi akong paglaruan
Tatanggi akong gamitin
At higit sa lahat tatanggihan na kita
Lilimutin ko ang iyong pagkatao gaya ng paglimot mo sa akin.

Masakit, pero kaya.
Matagal, pero kailangan.
Ken Alorro Sep 2015
Her mind, plagued with the darkness of thoughts
Pain burrowed in her chest
She cried, and cried, then cried once more
She needed to breathe but she can't
She gasped for more air
Then looked her face in the mirror
How terrible it is to know
That rivers could come from faces
All because of a broken heart.
Ken Alorro Sep 2015
Dear friend, I know you're in so much sorrow and I know how you always try to fake a smile. But please, make it more authentic? I would know because you and I, have been a part of each other, inseparable, on the same rhythm.

Dear friend, it has been a year since we last spoke about our whereabouts, it has been a year since we forgot each other. You chose to be with people who have the capacity to not ask if things have been great for you, or not. But I chose to ask, because I choose you.

Dear friend, I was always wondering how life could be so mundane, more so that death itself doesn't feel as threatening as losing you. You kept the easy ones, but gave away your friend who has always been there during Saturday nights where you would cry your heart out over some one who treated you like *******.

Dear friend, I did everything to make you stay, convinced you to not go back from the hands that hurt you. You have been addicted to your own destruction. And you chose him, over me. And I am sorry, I am not him. I refuse to be someone I am not.

Dear friend, I hate seeing you go, but if you really must, please come back. Please come back with my heart. And please, when you come back, never take it again. *Because I refuse to be your pseudo lover, I refuse to be unnoticed. I refuse to be refused of love.
Jacob Traver Dec 2013
Across an ocean of canvas white
A stroke of beauty comes to light
The patterns even, contrast, and fair
Complexity in the mind created with care

Do not allow a single smear
To blotch the canvas and make unclear
What blossoms made with hand and mind
What intricacies you will find

A root of commons grown within
of Artist and Gazer's ken
Now engrossed with personal thought
Through paintings on canvas, connection is sought.

— The End —