#nameless
~though nameless, she knows for whom the poem tolls~
<>
my dear one,
raving is freeing,
unabashed admiration,
enfilling us with overflowing contentment
when one reads a poem
they love, of love, of life.
that enthralls,
bringing tears
both salty & sweet,
a rave is a unquieted overflowing compliment
from a different vein, a special duct,
reserved for special purpose,
so I ask what shall I call you,
nameless, faceless, one,
in order to rave?
❤️
———-
an afterthought
———-
God Just Came Near
A Poem by Hafiz
—-
“No one
in need of love
Can sit with my verse for
An hour
And then walk away without carrying
Golden tools,
And feeling that God just came near."{
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 6:18 AM UTC
There is a crow- maybe it’s a raven.
Who knows.
It stares at you, watching as you lay in the grass. Watching as your bones creak, fill and break.
It watches you die, and it does not leave. People whom you’ve never even seen cry for you, not for your death but for the forever empty soul.
You’re a husk.
You’re a husk, and the crow knows you're still conscious. Intelligence more so than humanity tenfold.
And it follows you to wherever the finished stories go.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 6:24 PM UTC
Beauty queen,
Lipstick crusting rust-ily
On a serene smile -
The curl of sleeping beauty's
Mid-dream whimsy -
Frozen against the cold stretch
Of pavement,
as if to kiss the earth.
Breathy laughter stilled, glassy eyes - gilded with steet lights -
turned to the distant horizon,
Where there are rainbows,
and kind men, happy endings,
And dreams,
We all pretend
Come true.
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 9:44 AM UTC
Seven in the morning.
A lizard whisper in the brainstem,
dry skin perched over
the deep well of heart—
slack-jawed,
hypnotized by the flame eternal
haunting my ribs—
the pilot light
before the clock got lost
in the spiral.
I’m painted in colors outside the rainbow,
swirling loose in a nameless stream.
Here for now,
passing through—
a tea light drifting the dark river
whose banks are endless
and depths beyond knowing.
If I were to fashion a faith,
it would be letting go—
to the currents that brought us here,
and will carry us on.
And somewhere on the frontier of self,
a piano plays alone in a vacant saloon,
its tune floating into the prairie night.
Two eyes catch light in the dark—
closer than I thought—
listening to the twinkling as it carries on.
Their gaze says it all:
the wild accepts everything.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 5:31 PM UTC
I want to know.
How it feels,
when your name
unfolds on my tongue,
chanted,
left in breath,
invoking -
to linger in thought,
not just spoken,
but felt,
when it calls
to just be close,
and present.
Breathing out,
slowly,
in gravity,
let it sink,
deepen,
descend -
to another level,
to another question
is it too much,
or less than enough?
Because what you ask
might reveal more
than you mean,
more than the answer
can ever hold.
I want to know.
How it curls
behind closed lips,
not to hurt,
but left unspoken
in the hollow of my ribs.
How it feels,
when it marks,
grabs your neck,
holds your pulse,
takes your breath
not just with teeth
of hands,
but with freedom
of not holding back.
What it does,
open the mouth.
Silence follows,
shuts the eye to half,
and let it just breathe.
Pulse.
Slowing down.
Freeze -
in the moment
of heat.
And after,
when felt in the gut,
with memory
and weight.
Resonates.
Like an echo
of you, in me.
A midday longing.
Leaves nothing...
to hide,
to prove -
but stays.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 10:00 AM UTC
All I see is fog right in front of me
I can't see anything clearly enough
to distinct one thing from another
Maybe it is suppose to be like that
We've learned from a very young age
to call things by their name
But sometimes it's something
they don't have
What are we suppose to do then?
Well...
I guess just let them be
Simple as that
Feb 26, 2022
Feb 26, 2022 at 1:18 PM UTC
A face.
A smile.
Emotion in Denial.
To paint a picture, my heart needs a mouth.
What's spoken is a lie, my mind remains unsung.
Emotions in a jumble, death lies on the tongue.
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 8:57 AM UTC
“What’s your name again?”
He asks me.
“Have we met before?”
He asks me.
Yes we’ve met.
I remember the first time I saw you up close.
I was too scared to look into your eyes so I just looked at your hands.
I could’ve looked at them all day.
They were beautiful.
Not in a soft and polished kinda way,
but a strong and rough way.
It’s like they told stories of your manhood and all I wanted to do was put them up to my face and listen to what they had to say.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
I guess you were all business.
Filming for your job and I was just a prop.
A nameless
plain
unimportant
prop.
You had to edit over an hour of footage with me in the background.
Twirling the ribbon in my Bible scared that if I looked up I would just stare at you.
You had to type my name.
First and last.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
I thought of us before even laying eyes on you.
I remember the first time I saw your face.
We’ve only been going to church together for three months now.
I’ve only been staring at you every Sunday for three months now.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
Your profile popped up on my Facebook and I thought it was fate.
I wasn’t looking for your profile.
I didn’t even know your name yet.
I lost sleep because of you.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I said your name in my sleep.
I checked your socials like an old man checks the morning paper.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
Don’t worry about my name,
if you don’t know it now you will never learn it.
If you wanted to remember my name you would have.
So don’t waste my time with asking me now.
“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”
My name is worthless
unlovable
invisible.
But I don’t say any of this out loud.
I tell you my name while I feel my heart tighten.
My name is…
But once I tell you my name you repeat it like it’s a question.
It’s like a song I want to play on repeat until I get sick of it.
I want to hear you say my name over and over and over again.
But you won’t.
You have another girl’s name to say.
While you forget mine,
I remember yours like a bad song I wish I never heard.
A song that’s so bad it’s good.
What’s my name…
Maybe my name isn’t worth remembering.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 10:02 PM UTC
lamyos ng dampi ng ginaw
sa tuyong balat
ng nilikhang kanina pa ay
naghihingalong kumakampay
sa gilid ng dagat
sa gitna ng disyerto
sa loob nitong lunsod
na kayraming pangako
bigo
nilalasap ang pabagu-bagong
init-lamig ng malungkot
na ihip ng hangin-usok
may ibinubulong na mensahe
nagmula pa sa kung saang daigdig
pumapaimbulog sa kalawakan
parang naglalaro
tumatawag
nakikipag-away
nanunukso
naghahagilap ng kaunting pansin
na wari ba ay kasing kulay
ng bahaghari
kahit na walang inilimos na tubig-ulan
kahit na sadyang kaydilim
ng sanlibutan
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 8:43 AM UTC
Ever since the 5th grade I was “that girl.”
“That girl” that was always picked last for the team.
“That girl” who eats lunch alone in the hallway.
“That girl” who listens to her music on full blast.
Block out the thoughts that remind me of who I am.
“That girl.”
Nameless.
Easily forgotten.
What’s “that girl’s” name again?
Overshadowed.
Cropped out of photos.
Cut out of memories.
It won’t be long until I’m no longer “that girl.”
I’ll just be “that girl” everyone has forgotten about.
I’ll be nothing.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 11:36 AM UTC
discipline keeps the mind focussed
a sick laughing in the background
rivers of knowledge, psychology
i got your back if you got mine
ancestors stole my land, my brain
existence revolves around dollars
you don't know the voices in my head
they are trying to control me, kid
how can they spot my very location?
i was born in a dump, my father a drunk
my momma died during my birth; my fault?
let me blow up all the golden buildings
my mind be the place where i make plans
people told me that "slang" was "horrible"
nobody has to like that, you feel me?
my skin color is black and white, you know?
don't let them get into my head, **** voices
can i walk the streets freely? who trusts me?
golden opportunities all over the place
don't ask a nameless what his name is
he will never tell you but shoot someone
it's simply not wise, we want justice
when your heart is turning ice cold
hour of the ******* hour of the sucker
the bassline trembles, i'm shivering
females are entering my safe house
armed with prejudices and dishonor
i'm already dead, words chocked me
too much poetry, nowhere to go
**** this end, i will come back!
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC
Shema (“Listen”)
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...
Consider: is this a “man”
who slogs through mud,
who has never known peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or "no" lies dead.
Consider: is this a “woman”
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?
Consider that such horrors have indeed been!
I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.
Rehearse them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.
Primo Michele Levi (1919-1987) was an Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems, but is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in Nazi-occupied Poland. It has been described as one of the best books by one of the most important writers of the twentieth century. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords: Holocaust, poem, Italian, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 4:58 AM UTC
what do you call this?
this ******* void, this deep hole
dug up by us both in each other
i know you feel this too
we share this now, as we shared all else
my phone plays your favorite song
as i'm out for a run
cars on the road start moving faster and i'm thinking
if the hit would hurt less if i close my eyes
****** by this absence of you
this isn't love,
this is the feeling you get
after it leaves.
-melancholicreator
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
Pain, no conscious name
Be known, but never the less
In present heaven
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
They go on searching in Kingdom of happiness
Trying to find a place of
kindness.
When they realise that it is a barren field
Unexpected failures break their dream.
They are not searching for castle and king
But a crowd of dreams that they're loving .
Wearing a crown is not the only source of a beautiful smile
It is a strange heaven where nameless happiness lies.
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 6:47 AM UTC
she smells (nameless and shameless)
*a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters
the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:
she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,*
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-on tasting for the summer coming,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt of the basement
the burnt crumbs of illegal brioche toast
hidden on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed,
is yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things is just a fragrance too far
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
make a vice presidential declaration:
she smells, I manually stink, each, glower shower, nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass,
exhume and send away this odor now christened,
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:51 AM UTC
namelessly, I am a lighter.
used to ignite, and then ignored.
namelessly, I am a writer.
picking up a pen whenever I’m bored.
namelessly, I am a heater.
warming those around me in their darkest hour.
namelessly, I don’t work well either:
and sooner or later I’ll run out of power.
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
I am her.
Yet, I am not.
I am the sun.
She was numb.
I am courageous.
She was nameless.
I am her.
Yet, I am not.
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
The sadness leers
Coming from with in
Hateful cry’s ring in your ears
How dark could these be, such dreary sin
The light is now feeble
The demons come near
Nothing is as evil
Do not cry now dear
Look around you
The flames burn forever
You did not have a clue
You are not ready for this endeavor
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 11:32 PM UTC
A blank stare.
The soft rustle of long black hair
whipping in the wind.
Tear stained cheeks and red eyes,
a certain feeling of numbness that won't subside.
The sound of painful screams echoing in an empty mind
that is bustling inside all at the same time.
Distant memories come back to haunt
while the good times have already been forgotten
as if they were some wild dream.
Upon looking at the calm water and being spritzed in sea spray,
most don't realize that the same crystal waters they are gazing upon
is part of the body that swallows up unsuspecting victims
and sent many to their graves.
The sun reflecting upon the clear water burns her eyes.
She jumps as a soft hand rests upon her shoulder.
It is a young boy,
An unfamiliar face that seems so innocent and so pure
that she feels she has known him all her life.
Then she remembers that she no longer has one.
The person she was,
the person that would smile and say hello
was long gone.
She died in that same sea long ago.
The boy asked her name but she only replied,
"I don't have one. Not anymore."
Upon seeing the confused look that had washed over the boy's face
and the curious gleam in his eyes,
she said,
"Names are for people with purpose,
for those who have someone to love
and a life to live
and a home to arrive to at the end of each day.
They are not for the broken.
They are for the people who are blissfully oblivious.
They are not for me."
And so she walked away,
her frail body becoming smaller with each step she took into the distance.
And the boy tried calling out to her,
but he couldn't.
For she had no name.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 8:33 AM UTC
Sometimes, I have these dreams
reflecting the images
of my thoughts
That’s why
upon the earliest dawn
can’t help but wither with my loss
Even I cannot understand
what for real occurs inside my mind
Maybe if I just stop lying could
the worlds forbid on me
vanish should
Then, I discovered,
lying is my safe haven;
lies masquerade the real essence
of evil that exists
inside me and all the ones
I stay alive for
But,
who are they?
Does someone with an importance
for me
actually breathes in this place?
Aye,
For sure,
it is
simply
not the other way
around
It might be that I should
take place of the worlds forbid
on me
and
Vanish
Only this and nothing more
Once
upon a midnight dreary
Figures of a life
that never was
or
never will
fled from their concealment
Yes,
same night
as before
While I pondered nearly napping
they would return
Reencountering
the lies I’ve told myself
Everyday
and Always
Suddenly,
There came a tapping
Could it be
The Lord
reaching for my carnal soul,
Already?
The one
from my dreams may be!
Has he
for final
found out?
No; Nein
Niet
Only voices of forever
Endlessness
Merely this and nothing more
Mislead and Delude
Deceive or Perjure
Cheat, even Fool
Why so many
expressions for a word?
Lie
The cause
of my dreamful nights
of the accomplishments
I didn’t deserve
of the illusion
I’ve built around who I thought
cared
just a little
I am
the actual delusional
Here
Even Lenore
weeps for me
right now
No,
it is no concern of her
For I
nothing represent
Will I ever feel the spring
once more?
Quoth the Raven: Nevermore
Will these
the ones who keep fooling me
ever go away?
I guess not
For, fool is fair
as fair is fool
These are only consequences
of yours venom
yours, mine own
Do I deserve it?
Yes
No
Who is to judge?
The Lord?
The one I doubt of
The Serpent?
The one all doubt of
Or the one,
I’ve been deceiving
and lying
and perjuring for
All Existence?
I guess I am not
a rare and radiant
maiden like the others
Nameless here forevermore
That I am certain
Nameless here
Forevermore
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC