25 | 31 Poems for August 2016

A few months ago you didn't know that I could write or recite like that.
My notebook is full of broken masterpieces that fail to come together like contour lines.
If my art goes unappreciated, unnoticed, unloved and unpublished then just know that I wrote from the heart.
I know that love is a beautiful thing but sometimes I feel like its main intention is to tear me apart.
So don’t be too surprised when I tell you that I’m slowly falling to pieces.
The ocean in my muse’s eyes reminds me of the colour of the sky and how I want to dive into the depths of who she is.
The world has made her feel like an abandoned church but in my eyes she’ll always be a cathedral.
She will always be a cathedral and you can say hallelujah or amen to that.
We are from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms.
Went from breaking up, breaking down, breaking through to finally breaking new ground.
So even though I’m hurting now I know I’ll eventually be safe and sound when a new season comes around.
I’m still fascinated by spring, jacaranda petals and the countless anthologies that Mother Nature continues to write.
Reading the lines on a woman’s skins is poetry and too many men are illiterate.
So they will never truly understand the fact that liberty begins with literacy.
My notebook is full of broken masterpieces that fail to come together like contour lines.
Even if my art goes unappreciated, unnoticed, unloved and unpublished I will always write from the heart.

I melt like butter
each time his eyes
settle on me

He smiles and waves
like we're buddies
just coursemates

What he doesn't know
is my gallery is full
of his photos

And the last pages
of my notebooks
are filled with poems

For him, to him

A blank notebook stares at me,
Crisp pages, neat edges and lines
A pencil sharpened until the tip ******,
placed by the side.

I carefully carve slanted letters,
bundle them into words, into sentences..
and gradually,
I switch to sketches and doodles;
weird shapes,
mindlessly drawn (mostly spirals)..
Dragging the pencil to and fro
until it becomes blunt and curved.

Pens are convenient
but pencils are better.
You can always erase the mistakes,
though they leave scars and marks.

How long I sit there, I don't know.

I go to sleep,
and an abandoned notebook,
buried under tomes,
sits quietly on the desk,
telling the stories I've written.

We were sitting around the kitchen table, my eyes prickled with tear. "Why are you crying?", but you might as well have said 'Shut up and do not speak your mind.' I looked up and wiped my eyes. "It's embarrassing."

I spoke so quiet I hardly heard myself. I saw you reach for my notebook, and in three point seven seconds I yelled 'No!' My shoulders rose and fell quickly. My small hand slammed on the table grabbing the book. Your demaner changed and you got angry. You took my hand and crush my fingers within yours and ripped the book from my hand. Tens apon tens of pictures flew out as you shook all of its organs from the binding. My eyes fell the floor, nothing was left in the notebook. The notebook full of horrible feelings and terrible secrets. You snatched the cover open and flicked through. With all the cynicalness you had, you ripped the pages and fed them to the garbage disposal.

I look up in the same spot as I had began. We were sitting around the kitchen table, my eyes prickled with tear. "Why are you crying?", but you might as well have said 'Shut up and do not speak your mind.' I looked up and wiped my eyes. "It's embarrassing."

"Fix yourself before I fix you."

I'm startled but I wipe away my tears and eye my notebook dangerously. I live to write another day.

I'm the boogeyman in your closet
I'm the creep hiding under your bed
I'm a twisted, broken damage case in an ugly world of dread

The Secrets that we keep
Behind the tinted glass
are diseases growing in the deep,
Beneath the painted masks

It's a strange, strange world
We've all been forced into
But none of this compares
to the Horror within me and you

HATE ME SO I KNOW IT'S REAL
FEED ME PAIN, I NEED TO FEEL
BETRAY, ERASE AND VIOLATE ME
THIS STRANGE WORLD WILL DESECRATE ME

How far can we take this?
How far will it go?
I can't see the future
Through the Pains of these windows

I'm waiting for the rains to come
Wash us all away
Waiting for the desert storm
To bring the winds of plague

It's a strange, strange world,
is it not?

I never thought that a three second eye contact
Could rock my world like this
I just wanted you to notice me
It was never my intention to fall
I don't know where I lost control
Must have been somewhere between your smile and the way you dance

You have marked my notebook
But your smile left a mark on my heart and mind too
You are everywhere I go
And everyone I see
Take my heart with you
I don't need it without you


**I think I better Ron (run)

I'd be a butterfly,
For Heaven's sake.
The kind that Noah forgot to take.
But still survived The Flood...
In your eyes.
I'd build a boat.
Out of your ribcage,
To set the birds free.
You heard me!
Butterflies?
**** butterflies,
I got birds inside me.
No.
What I have to say,
comes from the rip chord
of my razor blades.
Waiting my whole life
for that rubber band
to snap back.

Thank God for my destruction.
Thank God for my ruble.
Because tree's
grow out of the sides
of stone cold mountains.
That have been blown up
by the rough hands
of people mining for gold.

And people set forest fires
on purpose.
To get rid of the dead stuff.
So new things can grow.
And Sometimes.
I pick the plants.
Just to see how much dead stuff
I can accumulate,
before I set myself on fire.
And when I do,
I swear to God.
I'll be an empty notebook.
So you can cover me with lines.
The good kind.
That come from your pencil.
Cause we don't have to roll up
dollar bills
to see the moon, anymore.

the scent of sadness lingers over your lips as you whisper the word;
"Goodbye."
and as I'm trying to move foward,
while forcing the stream of tears flowing down my cheek to never end,
I can't seem to fight the force
that wants me to
give up and understand that your tears shall never fall upon my hands again.

you're being is a closed exhibit in a forgotten museum,
a place i will never be able to find no matter how far and wide I search the depths of the earth.

you are a foreign stranger,
just another face in the sea of humanity.

BUT you were once my universe,
you once showed me how love can truly exist.
you had showed and reflected hope onto my life.
you marked a footprint in my life,
a milestone.
your heart cared similar to a mother caring for her first infant child.

my heart had continued to beat because of you,
you had showed me strength
and you taught me to never give up.
so here is my promise to you,
I shall never forget your promise to me;
*just keep pushing , no matter how much weight the universe is placing on your shoulders.