"adieus" poems
early morning
and the same sun rises over distant lands
and close-by skyscrapers
searing rusting infrastructure
with its harsh orange glow
spreading westward,
stretching over asphalt pathways
that connect, divide, structure, and destroy
alighting wearied faces of automobile drivers
careening through their morning commutes,
consuming caffeine like *******
while they deftly maneuver their 2,000 pounds of steel behind,
along, aside, and ahead of their neighbors
this,
is New Jersey,
where all roads lead to Newark
and there is nothing left but roads
approaching the colossus,
the cars cram and crawl into curb-side cases
narrowly avoiding calamitous collisions and condescending traffic cops
doors, fly open
and a mad flurry of arms and legs,
boxes and backpacks
come whirl-winding out onto the entryway
rushed goodbyes and abrupt adieus
color the palette of the doorway
dripping inside,
bleeding into the harshness of late businessmen
and screaming families.
Shoes Off.
Laptops Out.
and pray dearly that the TSA
doesn't shove their fingers inside of you
today.
arms up, legs spread
exposed to the imperceptible energy of American exceptionalism
the magnetic arm swings,
impregnating its subjects with the Joy of Fear
and the awe of empire
swings again,
and releases the hapless passenger from its total control
Through.
Checked.
Complete.
Pass Go, collect $200.
and into the international installation itself.
Enjoy your flight.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Old love letters paper the walls of my study.
Faded and peeling,
a few fall into the shadows
while most remain,
stubborn, insistent,
unyielding and unapologetic.
Oh, how the ink has begun to bleed!
To tattoo the dull, white paint in glimpses
between the letters,
as if I can hear their words
humming in a melody of minor chords.
I've stopped checking the mailbox,
full and lonely,
we are enemies.
Bookshelves surround me as well,
keepers of cluttered wisdom,
tomes of goodbyes, adieus,
and one or two apologies.
The stale air holds a minor chord--
the fermata of my early twenties
extends in a one significant pause:
You tell me,
We are not our history.
And then light the single match
illuminating
certain, brown eyes
and too much ruined papers.
Flames singe and curl the wallpaper
The fire sings over the sounds of my past.
We are alive in the crucible,
flames caressing my memories
now only in the fireplace
you have found in the corner.
Silent warmth and bare walls,
We sit down to write a new book,
bound in autumn leaves and cold rain,
and in a new handwriting,
You begin:
We are alive in the crucible.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
the sky is the colour of ceres porcelain
or an oil painting of a windy isle,
the hot sun softens,
the days easier, the clouds
are white like patches on
blue jeans, the cooler air
conjuring the blues of the
skies, mystical and haunting,
the stream’s summer greys
singing of rusty pools and
white linen, as babbling water
falls from the mountains
and rushes to breathe.
summer becomes tender,
opens her heart to the
beauty of the sky, lingers
with flashy sunlight, and
touches of brilliance to
those water-colour skies
and sends us adieus
and sweet memories
of children’s laughter
and happy, warm days.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
tore myself in two
put on a show for you
the taste of your lips
i hunger for one more kiss
a table for two
only one thing left to do,
you.
we're just a bunch of nobodies
partnership of two wannabes
just a great hyperbole
pathetic in actuality
we’re going no where
we’re bound to tear
i love the recklessness of it all
and fall when you call me your baby doll
id gladly throw myself off a cliff for you
perhaps its time to bid my adieus
but wheres the fun in saying my goodbyes
when i could stay, and let you multiply my butterflies
take from me until i can no longer give
until i forget how to live
forget how to live independently
but i need not worry, you promised me an eternity
and so i trust you with my everything
and you will forever be my king
of this soul, of this body
you’re my new hobby
and perhaps it is unhealthy,
but you’re the only one who loves me correctly
and i could care less
so ill stress, obsess, caress
until there is nothing left of us
just a ceramic jar of ash and dust
and our fates and fingers are intertwined
and you’re confined, all and only mine.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
Bolted digits, rootbound to acrid heavens,
ostrichly I swallow sand, begging the heaviness
to parch my flaming veins and ceaselessly flowing sorrows.
Sparrow’s fleeting raison d'être, sipping eyes of iceberg hue,
quenching mine own of verdant leaf; long-awaited view
to fill my soul’s windows’ empty absinthe pools.
No somber adieus, simply one smile of lightning.
His passing thunder will resound beneath my ribs
from the arrows of his glacial spheres
forevermore.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
Come gather around the crucible now.
Let darkness take its timely bow,
And guise us all into focus.
None gather the severity here
Of the test at hand standing shear.
The devil possesses us now.
Shan’t we dig our grave at time?
Pass this or death knell shall chime
Of the knowledge of life.
Stare into the cauldron of your eyes.
Doth see what thy devil devise,
Stirring within the souls of us?
Let the cauldron bubble away,
And reveal a sign of trouble this day
In preparation for the leap of faith.
You see your reflection? Yes, it’s true.
If not wise you’ll wish more adieus
And never bother unbroken ice.
Gaze the cloud of smoke above
Distort the air into figure of
Into our sorrowful adieu.
A mirror around, focus now
You see the stand as you how
Performing upon ritual now.
We string and slide away we go
They ice over and this they know
To expand us to eternity.
If he yet advance not forth to strike
Then the devil may apply his *****
Upon the relation between.
Est thy his work or worker stray?
Thy either way shut out light’s ray
And freeze us all apart.
Thy must or need advance the ice
And destroy it while the risky price
Of fragility looms in doom.
So gather around the crucible now
Around let the darkness timely bow
And hold none yet the amulet.
Gouge thy eyes open of all thee light
And fold into posture and amulet might
Let the dire cold overwhelm.
The briskness forces way into
And turns all ye to Pluto’s blue
Without the amulet, thy lay dead.
Dive upon thy ice into ye soul alive
And do witness what devil devise
To break and make you ownage.
Release unto thy purple stone.
Unto the newer bluer known
And apply yourself true.
Xaimon felt, Dvoryin foresaw,
It tries to dissolve boundary law
And cast us into ice.
Pythaezuyen cried in horror
And echoed prophecy down the door
Along time’s fabric string:
“Our dearest child slain to die
And destruction rise from tears thee cry;
Thy all shall grant impunity.”
This demon echoed no remorse
For ye now control thy course
Of this text we take
Find the Mystic Circle breaking
The very foundation upon the shaking
Wear the amulet and hear me.
- Cryptous Straevaras
Feb 12, 2010
Feb 12, 2010 at 8:06 AM UTC
What it'd be
to be the same cup of tea
and poured so thoroughly
for all the world to see
What it'd be
to be sought and enjoyed
rather than looked
through tainted and destroyed
colored glasses,
decidedly annoyed
people fix me irritated glances
I'm not a crowd pleaser
and alone viewed as bitter
I'm sorry I'm not your cup of tea
if you see a quiter
then a bitter quiter has to be me
What it'd be
to not even be me
maybe instead
from a mint brewery
then my demeanor
would appear brighter,
cleaner
but not to you
achu achu
appearances never
faze to blue
until that brew adieus
What it'd be
for my recipe
to have been escriben
so graciously
near my name
Instead drank ostensibly
spit contemptuously
and given tired out pleasantries
failed to taste great piquancy
no red, yellow, or blue cup's
compatible dripping amenity
And oh what it'd be
for you to see
that with the alliance with a honey bee
everyone's cup of tea
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
Winter can be fun too,
For me and you.
Goodbye to heat waves,
And iced chilled drinks you crave.
Adieus to flies bugs and bees,
Hay fever, poison ivy and also allergies.
Appetites increase,
Cooking and baking never cease,
Not to forget mending and sewing,
And over a cup of hot tea gossiping.
Fire-places aglow,
Whilst landscape is carpeted with snow,
Children enjoy indoor games in the basement below.
Sled riding, ice skating,
tobagonning, and making snowman can be fun,
With the promise of a glowing sun.
In the mornings dad's car can be stubborn,
But a little wooing and engine warm up it can be won.
Winter too is happy time,
More time for poetry, with rhythm and rhyme.
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
Starting at the ceiling
Trying to grasp each feeling
My mind is retiring
At last from a day too tiring.
But the dreams return;
The remains of those memories still burn.
The sounds that I once loved are biding adieus.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
I wish I could wake up
In a display case
No wood but my
Limbs
Nothing wet but my
Paint
Flawless
Smooth Razor-virgin
No searching
For caverns
To plunder
No caves to protect
From thieves
Gone asunder
I wish my canvas was blank
Androgynous beauty
A creation of
Choice
But I think I used to have a voice
Characters danced in my esophagus
And played my cords
Like a
Cello
They shouted on a
Page
And longed for the
Stage
But struggled against
My front
Teeth
After years of neglect,
Too cruel to forget
And too torturous again
To repeat
They forwent their "adieus"
But muttered **** yous"
As they went to turn tricks
Down the street
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 11:18 AM UTC
...
I’m writing all aforementioned while sitting on the edge of the building, in the silhouette of the morning sun. A waft of breeze departs me from the dreariness, unhinged. I found myself in and out of a tidal wave, as if drowning is the only way to stay afloat.
It all serves, too difficult to confess.
In susurration, the landscape exhales something in the color of trees, the temperature last night, and the slant of daylight.
How carried I was (still am) by the unexpected field we encountered, the confidant dialogue we built, the emotional walls we broke. There is a part in my brain that grief won’t grow. Summer in Cangyuan was not lachrymose. The lyrics of Under the Flying Clouds alludes every one of those who are too heavy for me, whom I can’t let go of.
I was not ready for my unscheduled departure from nowhere to nowhere. Many were the tears shed by me in my last adieus to a place so much beloved, and to everyone who makes the place the place.
Do I continue the same, unconscious of the pleasure or regret I occasion, insensible of any change in those who walk under my shade?
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 2:33 PM UTC
We are to burn in hell
My love,
It has been our time,
far to long
for ones like us.
We tried my dear,
I've prayed to the gods of the dark,
My mother bode us well,
But we had been left alone
Once again.
The ocean can drown us whole,
And sting our hearts dry.
But I will never part from you my dear.
I've planned our goodbyes and adieus
From this life.
And I swear by the salt in the sea,
And the blood coursing through my body,
I will love you,
Wholly and fully
Forevermore.
We watch our beings, now,
Bring it between you palms
Watch it crumble down into nothingness
And feel the air dissipate.
So, lets light ourselves on fire, shall we?
~Fin.
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 1:37 PM UTC
When birds on nearby
Big olive trees
A mellifluous music make,
Cognizant time for daybreak
I often used to get awake.
They always chirp
To say
“ Get up what is your plan
For today?”
Tragically, after
People recklessly
Felled down trees
Concrete jungles
To advance
I have missed for
The alarming bell
A chance.
A vicious cycle of drought
Makes the harvest naught.
Food insecurity
Has become
Some countries’ identity.
Rivers,which used to gallop,
Ebbing out, that trend
Has stopped.
Unlike in the past,
Walking without umbrella
No sane person can
For h/she will be
Victimized by the sun.
Nature, which
We used to bully,
Has become
Unruly !
Alas , unless one puts on
A glass
The reflection from a nearby
Tower’s environment -
not-friendly window
Could cast on one’s iris
A shadow.
In the past
Summer was summer
While winter winter
But now has taken their places
Gray matter.
The air was salubrious
But now it has said” Adieus!”////
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC
How I long to hear your voice one more time, How I long to hug you and know it’s all fine…
How I long to see your smiling face,
How I long to feel your loving embrace
Hope you’re doing fine
Hope you’re the star that always shines
Hope to see you soon
Hope to enjoy one more monsoon
Thank you for your unconditional love,
Thank you for making us feel like we were more than enough.
Thank you for everything you have done,
Thank you for being the best dad to this undeserving son.
Feb 13, 2022
Feb 13, 2022 at 8:13 AM UTC
moonlight pranced
upon immaculate sheets.
toasting hallelujahs
to unprecedented adieus.
miraculous orchestra
paraded between
enveloped keepsakes.
scents of yesterday
dissolved under my cavity.
ambitious pungency,
held me hostage,
mourning unreachable memoirs,
~within a pathetic presence
pleading desperately over
crowded cemeteries.
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 6:31 AM UTC