#since
the old walls
are up
the rusted iron spikes
still stand;
you are still outside
the gate
and you curl your fingers
around the bars
and you wait-
she doesn't sing
from her tower window anymore
and you don't hear her skip through the
halls
and you think you know
the metallic smell from
the crack at the bottom of her door- blood
and you know
waking up gasping in the middle of the night-
fear
but you can't help her,
can you?
you can't you can't you can't
and god help you because she won't let you
either.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 12:40 AM UTC
Duty calls, teacher hat,
same as the preacher hat,
same as the mathematical wager,
still on, Pascal. Safe bet, but… once
a few million kids at once learned
that tic tack toe and thermo-nu-clear war,
were in the set of bets that blinks can lose.
In a New York movie, some geek kid,
reacted by becoming Barry Rudd,
the purchased man child in the legendary
Child Buyer Project, novelized after Hiroshima,
by a master of the craft, story building
from ash and salt and sand,
into glass houses none throw stones from,
in the mind game of fragile circumstances,
thin ice, no ice, open sea, pity the bears,
celebrate the sea lions and otters and seals.
Feb 22, 2024
Feb 22, 2024 at 8:18 PM UTC
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
a knight in shining armor
visited me today
he said
**** I'm taking yo girl
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
Since 3rd Grade, I like you.
I don't know what you did to my heart.
First day of 4th Grade, I thought my feelings were gone.
5th Grade, you still make my heart flutter.
6th Grade, I tried to like someone else.
It got successful but why were you still the number one?
7th Grade, you still never failed to make my heart flutter.
As we keep getting closer, the pain became closer to me too.
8th grade, I had second thoughts if I still like you,
Because I felt it's more than like already.
9th grade, still thinking why I have feelings for you when you flutter and break my heart at the same time.
10th Grade, as much as my feelings grew deeper,
The pain started to grow more.
Ever since 3rd Grade,
I started to have feelings for you,
Also, the pain started to grow too.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 4:39 AM UTC
Ask me not how far
it's only a day
and night space apart!
But its been like this
since time immemorial!
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 3:31 PM UTC
REMEMBRANCE of HARRIET HARRIS –
mile ate mum: Christened as averred one Harriet Kuritsky. A Brooklyn babe born on November 13th nineteen thirty five, the youngest (and last of the lot tubby alive) of four siblings (only one brother), whose Brexit from world viz terminal illness, she did not survive.
The following emotions communicating heartfelt grief practically vanquished as existence turned a new mo' tiff leaf. A recurring abysmal grief stricken state consumed my entire being immediately fool low wing her demise, but pooch less so now. Perpetual tears of sadness seemed not to a-bate, when grim reaper brandished signature scythe 'n of deadlocked fate.
Twas about 11:00 a.m. 2005 third of May, our dearly beloved mother fought tooth and nail to keep death at bay (as recounted by eldest and youngest sisters, who elected to remain on vigil that day), nonetheless rigor mortis upper hand brought (supposed) painless swift death, her diseased and emaciated riddled body gone lifeless and ashen gray.
Profound mourning brought misty eyes
from only heir misses, whom hissed mom
more so than then now, but noneless
more than plaintive words spell
with agonizingly pained heart and soul
rent asunder psyche pell-mell
no amount of weeping can quiet and quell.
Cathartic for me to give posthumous ode
conveyed in an easy to read poetic code
to help accept finality and permanent loss,
now only retrievable from nostalgic memories
identified as childhood doghouse favorite abode.
Her cremated ashes no longer remain sealed in nondescript box boot scattered to the four winds at a favorite secluded spot - that really rocks with the Moss evoking a spring stein.
White, powdery chalk like material
devoid of any vestigial semblance
to her once living and vibrant self
that unique persona pulverized and vaporized
(housed former svelte and tall
Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher
a half-century plus prior to her demise
which beauty, charm and grace quickly
caught the attention of my father
who courted and eventually proposed
to this young flirt and tease of a gal)
inert organic matter represented sole
residual embodiment reduced to dust
and near nothingness former corpo
real being of blood, bone and flesh
weighing no more than a dozen hatch marks
on the scale absence bore down heavy
like millstones round the neck per
black void created by defeat with
Grim Reaper toward this woman,
who birthed and nursed me into
manhood momma’s only grown son
felt torturous ripples of grievous sadness,
no matter years of suppressed anger,
and rage in addition to emotional
conflicts between us, which
in variably wrought unpleasant relationship
and legacy of discord writ large across
the tapestry of mine existence.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
i used to make since
i used to have a plan
until the world blew up
and scatted dreams across the land
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
Last night I stood atop the North tower,
And as I gazed down from the roof,
I hallucinated a Boeing hurtling,
I saw it collide and felt the impact,
Soon I saw and heard the fear.
The fear vibrated downwards,
It was a nightmare of old memories,
It was a fear of odd memories,
Of memories that I never had,
A nightmare with open eyes.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC
I haven't felt at home since then
Since I've woken up
No dream can last
All nights must pass
And rise again
But my realization hasn't changed
The way things are or could've been
Look back and see the same old day
Not as it was, but as it is
No amount of time can change the fact
Or the truth therein
That we are searching, ever searched
Alive within for but a short time
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 10:33 AM UTC