#papers
A jumbled desk, full of books, papers and tears,
A clustered focus, ample with elusive echoes.
A trembling grasp, on the tool of writing,
A state of puzzled feelings, of fear and joy.
An endless order, of pondering and erasing,
An obsession of refinement is taking over.
A feeble attempt, at linking chapters,
A tiny butterfly is playing rock, paper,
scissors inside, and clotting the scribe.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 12:08 PM UTC
O trothful comrade,
What soever shall I do?
Hadst thou not been thither,
Biding by the loo?
My quiet white knight,
A bold one, is he,
Swift to save my ****
Quite literally.
Howbeit grim the duty,
He bringeth to pass,
Removes all the blemish,
No questions asked.
Thro’ the sea an’ the storm,
We rest hand in hand;
Anon, a vanquished battle—
In pride we stand.
O trothful comrade,
If but it were e’er true,
That people were toilet papers,
Just such as thou.
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
My roommates and I congregated in our suite's great room and we’ll head out for dinner soon.
“Have you ever eaten dog food?” Leong asked Anna.
“No,” Anna answered, “it smells like chicken - it’s got chicken in it”
“OOO!” Leong pounces, “Busted!!”
“What?!” Anna reacts.
“How would you know that then?” Leong asks, doubtfully.
“My mom told me!” Anna cries, in self defense. “She’s a vegetarian too.”
“Your mom told you.” Leong said, like a prosecutor raising an eyebrow for the jury.
“I just took my last English class,” I report, pony-tailing my hair, “my teacher told me - privately - that my writing destroys.”
“Nice,” Lisa says.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling and grooming with pride, “I thought that was a ballin’ complement and I’ve been riding that high.”
“No doubt,” Anna says and nods.
“My English professor..” Leong says, exasperated, “is driving me crazy, I’ve written three final papers so far and she’s rejected them ALL.”
“Huh?” I gasp, “Show me one!” I demand, wiggling gimmie-fingers at her laptop.
“Here’s a question,” Lisa asks the room, “What would you change about your childhood?”
“I would have never grown up.” Sophy said.
“When I was in third grade, in the UK, a girl in my elementary school, was murdered,” I reveal.
“What?!” Anna says.
“Oh, my GOD!” Lisa gasps.
“Spill” Leong demands.
“Her name was Kennedy,” I begin, “She was in another class, I didn’t know her but I started to imagine that I’d known her. I’d think of her playing on the swings in a yellow dress, in daydreams and in nightmares.”
“I can see that,” Leong said.
“I was flummoxed, at the time, how a family could lose a little girl and a president.” I added.
Anna looked confused.
“I was in third grade,” I replied, ”what did I know?”
“Go ON,” Lisa prompts.
“We heard that she was walking home and got snatched,” I continued.
“Jesus,” Lisa said, shaking her head.
“Although I never walked home, I was careful not to be snatched for a while,” I summarized.
“I bet,” Anna agreed.
“That’s what I’d change,” I said, “Poor Kennedy.”
“People **** Lisa pronounced, and there was general agreement to that.
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
.
Paper scraps, paper love, paper folds.
All these adjectives written on papers—
and my thoughts remain scattered and perplexing.
Paper planes, paper boats, paper dreams.
I pour my true feelings
disguised in various linings
because, in the end,
even the most heartfelt words on papers are eventually scattered,
accidentally stepped on,
and, slowly,
forgotten.
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 10:47 AM UTC
*
*Papers on my desk
Pondering on past mistakes
White dreams turn into dust*
*
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 5:10 AM UTC
Pages hanging on
By a breadth of
A mere molecule
Paper hearts
And discarded minds
Holding on to life
By a brief tether
Sawed,
By auspicious grim.
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 2:41 AM UTC
It wasn't funny,
I'd used every spare sock.
Every newspaper that had past my letter box..
I couldn't use my ******* magazine
as the pages had mysteriously
stuck together??
So I walked like a crab
into my back garden..
My hose pipe connected,
I know how Sylvester Stallone felt
In demolition man,
three sea shells..
F##k this S##t,
but no morality machine
for spare sheets....
F#########ck....
Ok lets get the water pressure just right,
I turn it on and my ***** swing like a pendulum.
dam that made my eyes water..
This time I put it in the right place,
a unique sensation,
but just as I was clean,
my back porch light turned on..
All I heard was,
"Frank don't worry its cold,
As he laughed out loud.
I walked back in my ***** sore,
but **** fresh clean,
even though embarrassed..
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 6:09 PM UTC
I’ve submitted my applications.
To be the proxy if need be.
You’ve read my papers;
The clause of letting go,
It is set in stone hearts.
You’ve been left alone and hurting,
I’ve become the proxy for him.
The bandaid over your wound,
To be discarded once healed.
When will you fire me?
Setting me ablaze by losing my job?
When will I be thrown?
Discarded once my purpose is served?
I have had a premonition,
That things will slowly fall into place.
I will be left alone once more,
After my purpose is done.
I’ve served many masters,
All of which are of my choosing.
I’ve been let go before,
After my time has been reached.
It’s normal for me to be forgotten,
Left rotting six-feet beneath.
I have died a thousand deaths,
All to save those in need.
I am dedicated to this unlife,
Of sacrifice and giving everything.
It is my purpose and duty,
To give my life up for others.
Despite the pain and suffering,
Despite chipping away at my heart,
Despite depleting my soul,
I will give and give and give.
All in the spirit of love,
All in the hope of receiving it,
All in the faith of enduring it,
All in the love of sacrifice.
I’m just a proxy,
To replace those ***** lost.
My papers are here,
When will my contract end?
I think it will soon enough.
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 11:05 AM UTC
19
dictionaries stacked on the shelf near the blackboard
19
papers i have lying on my desk
19
thoughts inside my head
19
people sitting around me
19
threads lying lonely on the floor
19
pencils scratching
19
florescent lights bearing down upon my weary eyes
19.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
and again salutes outside the window and again
they and they again and I still watch
on their old old lost
lost pieces of paper scruffy
battered by this time by these
over the years with these watches over the centuries
considerations all all all that
eat in this dark bright summer light
and again the window and again the walls and again
it and again it spun one in
huge terrible waltz since the soul
mine is yours and all this is one continuous howl
and since my truth is yours all that
was and always will be forever and how
all this huge dance dance dance
huge black man dance or
or what or and when or and whether
it or well anyway well anyway i
will utter this final word final
word word ending life is death
and only death in the world exists and
of course the birth though there are doubts
probably only death and she alone
and life and our life was not and never will
never
06.10.18
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
running notes fast fast
on fingers ran quickly
quickly walked along quickly
and be so quietly and quietly
quietly melody on the nose
slipped and sank into sleep
and there were white papers and will
black paper and torch burn and
notes will run again and all also
it is not known where and when to burn and
quickly run fast then
when I was five years old when I was
when i was six years old
I was seven years old and when I was
exactly eternity eternity one infinite
and when I was not a man but a piano
when I was just the keys and only
white and black black and white and all
02.10.18
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
crying was like rain
crying fell from the sky
and glass
and glass
tore up papers
tore hands
crying is unbearable
wailing tore my soul
and not mine and others
Chinese in one far country
somewhere in the future
or in the past
about crying
time you're crying
I'm you time
about crying
glass
05.07.18
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Scripts has been written and became rotten…
Words are abandoned and forgotten…
Papers are withered and paled away…
Feelings are faded and hugged by lost!
And
Trying to find meaning was not easy…
It ends up trying to find myself…
It is not in love only…
It is not in money only…
It is not in fame only….
It is not in anything if you are not in everything in this life!
Go all the way…..
Your quest won’t be the same always!
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 11:13 AM UTC
If the papers lying on my desk
had a voice, they would ask me
why don’t I write anymore.
They would ask for more stories
about us that I kept telling them
for years, we are their favourites.
I first started writing when you
came in with a smile and
filled my heart with your warmth.
One day you’ve left me grieving in
this cold, dark place and I thought
may be I could write for one last time.
Tears stained the papers instead of
ink, but they didn’t understand
this new language I wrote in.
Those papers are just lying there,
I never write again after
wiping the last tear off my face.
May be they do have a voice and
want to know what made me
stop writing, but I can’t hear them now.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
Papers to fold,
Followed instructions you told,
You and the papers are the only ones I want to hold,
Especially when the weather is cold
So many designs to make,
Also memories that we both create
I just wanna do this all the time,
Until the day that I will die.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 7:25 PM UTC
memories,
captured in a moment.
on a single paper,
remembering in the silent,
inks fade, doesn't last forever,
together we are broken,
but we can see it in this small paper,
these happiness and enjoyment.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 11:06 PM UTC
it's hot coffee and warm paper cup steam
and illegible tattoos without a theme
it's late night eyes and restless hours
and cheap notebook paper towers
it's sleeping until noon and arriving late
because of weekday parties that couldn't wait
it's worn out chucks and shirts with holes
based in a religious background and thrift shop clothes
it's community cups and feet without shoes
seen by long eyelashes and the color blue
it's ink rubbing off on freckled hands
from crumpled papers thrown in trash cans
it's an improbable dynamic and an impossible feat
because of barely-earned titles and grinding teeth
it's the quiet thoughts and midnight dreams
that, come the sunrise, are not even feelings.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
No wonder how I hate my distance from her!
No wonder how I hate my sickness of being away from her!
No wonder how I hate the silence in my room, in my car, in my papers!
She is a hope with the simplicity living in her and with her!
She is the light that let me close my eyes in peace!
She is the gentle that i touch when I'm confused with my thought!
She is... The Gift!
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
I pulled myself strongly from keep thinking of her!
I dragged the thought from reaching my brain to give that note that i missed her badly!
I locked my crying papers inside that drawer, so they won't be engraved happily on those lines talking how she is in every corner of my day!
I sent all those feelings and thought to the land of Doubt, to confuse them from being true about their existence!
I've victimized all my belonging, so I won't let her know how do i see her in my world!
I've concealed my vibes throughout the day, to let the mind take cover my heart!
But!!!.....I failed!!!!
I failed not to tell myself, I am in love with her!
I failed not to write for her!
I failed not to free my memories from her!
And.... I am Still...
Failing!
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
I will lay down my pen for the sake of "Love"!
I will let my papers long for that Ink... for that dance with my words!
I will take that pain to keep the pain away for those i care for!
Silly.....Crazy....Manic!
Better than a hurt or a pain that i won't live with....
Better than a label that... will...
Let you down!
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
Everyone is quiet,
Papers rustle,
The slow speed fan
Creaks above our heads,
The air conditioning
Is broken,
We start to sweat
From sunlight coming in
Through the tintless windows.
Exhausted,
We sit in silence,
Unwilling to share
Information.
Miserable in this heat,
Someone drops their pen.
As he picks it up
The room sighs,
Almost as if in relief
That he retrieved it,
While no one else moves.
It's far too hot for that.
The table smells like mothballs,
And the people around me
Smell like sweat,
Perfume and cologne.
You can smell the coffee
Oozing from their pores.
Bloodshot eyes,
Aching backs,
And all-consuming stress.
I'm in class.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
I remember leaving
I'll not forget the in between
There's nothing in the world
Can erase the things I've seen
But, today I got my papers
got a call upon my phone
My duty now is over
and I am coming home
I've missed a lot
since I've been gone
I've never seen my son
I've never held him in my arms
I missed seeing him turn one
coming home my time is over
coming home my time is through
coming home to be a father
and a husband dear, to you
coming home a tired soldier
coming home but, not the same
coming home to be a person
I'm not a rank and a last name
I missed his second birthday too
But, I won't miss any more
I wasn't there when he turned three years old
But, I'll be there when he turns four
Things have changed
Things will be new
I know this will be tough
I can only promise that I'll try
And hope that it will be enough
I've thought about you every day
You're in my heart and soul
I'm coming home to you my love
And then together, we'll be whole
coming home my time is over
coming home my time is through
coming home to be a father
and a husband dear, to you
coming home a tired soldier
coming home but, not the same
coming home to be a person
I'm not a rank and a last name
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC