There is struggle in every beginning.
What to write in these blank pages?

We get stuck in every white space we see
We stop in every blank space
We stare
We try to start

Words don't come easy

We struggle for ideas
We fumble for words

The thought process stops.

Catharsis.

The ideas flood our brains
The ideas pour
The brain leaks of ideas
But we struggle for structure

For there is none in these blank pages, white spaces
There is none.

We try to achieve form and flow
But there are none
All we have are fragments
of thoughts
of words

It's a stacatto of ideas.

Without rhythm
Without melody
Without harmony
For there are none in these blank pages
There are none in these white spaces

The words
are just lines
are just dots
are just strokes
that will never make sense

In these white spaces
In these blank pages

This beautiful mess.

I write a piece remastered as though
To make love. It is when my poem engages
And at the same time disengages,
Where the reader keeps wanting, and
Bare, barely, retaliates.

So the poet was a man
And the reader was a woman.
When I write, I hold
And hold her hips.
And the pull was the pull
Of the lips of our kiss.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

She alone will understand
Why the word star in my poetry
     Will never be well put,
Why the colors and the setting change,
And how her name
Does not ring the same,
She alone, where we, she
     Alone.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

It's odd.
Sometimes I can write
Like for hours and hours.
I can't seem to write enough.

And other times,
I can't figure out why the words
I write down
Won't sound right.

Shelter your frailty into the open.
Protect it from your lungs, your soul, your *******,
Your curved bones and apprehensions.
I say release and decompress.
Forsake the dangers in your chest
     And love me.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I have never seen such sad confetti,
A burst of melancholia, no hint of pain,
A drizzle, an arrow to the soul.
     What tragedy!

At night, alone, looking
At Afremov's First Snow,
I grin. I smirk it hard
And the forced laughter comes.
I imagine what hers would sound like,
     And colors, extravagant colors.
It makes me wonder when we'll be foolish together.
What smile would color me
     And color it back?

Below her nostrils,
Below her air, her breath,
The smoke, her oxygen,
Are my mouth, her mouth,
Her lips and some more breath—
All too tangible—
     A machinery.

But there's some spirit there, I know,
A kiss that need not press on,
A smaller infinity, a found virginity.
And the light would shed its dark elsewhere
     Revealing her shadow, her true.

I know there would be love, love,
Somehow, for her,
     In her.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

These past few weeks
Whenever I put pen to paper
I end up with nothing
No words flowing from my veins
No thoughts running in my mind
No stanzas waiting to be written
My leaves have dried up
My lake is frozen
My lemon fully squeezed
All thanks to you

You have been the only thing running in my mind for the past week
Tell me how long your legs can run cos I'm not sure I can take it any longer
You have been the only one dominating my mind like a computer virus
Making me forget everything but you
You are on my mind twenty four seven
In the 86400 seconds in a day
I can assure you you're the first and last thing on my mind
I'm starting to lose track of time

And yet I find no words to write about you
You bring out the bad poet inside of me
You bring to life this other side of me which ssstutters, always unsure of what to say because it might not be good enough
I am an overheating motor
I am an overmixed batter
I am a pen whose cap is left off

You know,
The funny thing is you have absolutely no idea how you affect me
You go on in your everyday life
You go about your day
You make endless maps and cross roads in my mind
And I don't even know if I cross yours
When others talk to you
I don't think they're aware that they're talking to my world
I don't think you're aware that you are my world
No, actually you are my universe
I am the stars, the galaxies, the comets, the meteors
The endless possibilities in our constantly expanding universe
Ready to be filled with our love

You leave me breathless, searching for words
So please,
tell me when you're going to leave my mind, cos I **** sure wanna start writing again