"bawls" poems
When clocks strike twelve and trainings end
— lurk not, they say, in school at night.
Age-old stories tell of how there’re
things that throng in fluorescent light.
In toilets silence screeches loud,
for when school’s empty, they arise:
Ghosts of pregnant girls lie wailing,
with cleaner-uncle poltergeists.
For now I sit on chilling white,
resounding prayers in my mind;
my heart racing with dire wish
a friend of Casper’s I won’t find —
Then eeeeeeek!
Is that a door creaking?
Perhaps it stemmed from my own mind,
Hinges sing as they fly open!
Thou who entered, oh be my kind!
A thud thud thud as shoes traverse
across the glinting marble floor;
and louder,
louder as they get
much nearer to my sacred door!
THEN SILENCE
or so I wish!
But a loud knock takes my breath away.
The unlatched bolt lies there lazing
HOW’D I FORGET TO LOCK TODAY?
A hand thrusts in so hard and swift,
door’s open ‘fore I can react!
I’m facing now a girl my age,
She bawls at me with little tact —
Eyes bloodshot and tummy bloated,
“YOU DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YE?!”
I dash out of the girls’ toilet
before she tries to castrate me.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
She cries late
every night
Turns off all the
lights
Sits in bed
bawls
her eyes out
in the dark
Cutting out pieces
of her heart
No one can see
the scars
of her sewing
back up her chest
Soon she will be
an empty shell
Hopefully
putting her soul to rest
If her heart
is no longer there
It can't get broken,
right?
If no one can see
the tears
Then she never cried,
right?
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
Inside the bearded man,
The crying baby lies
The disarming face is gone
The flowery flesh is worn
And nobody wants to rush in
To his peevish petulant cries
And wipe his bottom or eyes.
He's in a pitiful mess
But the middle-aged man
No matter how hard he tries
Cannot command the love
That came free with his innocence
He bawls in vain in his pain
Such comfort will never never come again.
4.1k
Rage and roar upon your thrones,
Love, loot and hate, be disparate,
But not for me are bawls and blows;
I’ll tend the hearth, the heart, the grate.
In the shadows I rest, my face a-glow –
Not plagued by fury as hot as fire,
Nor ambition, wrath, desire,
Nor revenge as cold as snow.
Quiet yet not dormant,
Docile though not all compliant,
You may scoff and scorn my choice
But I still hold the eternal fire –
My flame keeps Olympus alight,
I keep all safe throughout the night
And though I am not in your sight
You’ll always find me through your plight.
For I am Hestia,
First-born goddess,
The softest star.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
It consists of this,
all of it and none
I found solace in that
which I could not hold
but only cherish as fond memoirs
of a terrible moment in time
Never full, never empty
it turned into an addiction
derogation of the unwise, with no premise
bawls and shrieks have no place here
this is silent lucidity capsized
hundreds of expressions explaining one thing
one thing that explains it all
Destination: lost
with no means to propel the self
into a promising new day,
pray tell, what will break down the wall
self loathing and misanthropy creates
alone in a crowd, here, but far away
none of it is that important anyway
The smile stealer, grin eater
mood killer, running short of edification
It's never alone; in bed with misery
the smallest things distress
the grandest of thoughts
wanting reprieve, searching escape
as if you could
die and stain pride?
No
Cowardice is lower than this
not worse, just pathetic
but please, ignore my terrible advocacy,
everything is half off today
I'm feeling generous.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
Immersed so deep
Questioning the way of the sheep
Sheep who conform to this reality
Without so much as a peep
They might begin to realize
Just what they're missing
If they saw the world through my eyes
I wish I could share this vision
With more than just words
This reality is derision
This mockery for the birds
Some may call it escape
Looking at the world through open eyes
But when your pupils begin to gape
You can see through the lies
So partake and open yourself
To a world of beauty and wonder
These are my trippin' bawls
I hope they make you ponder
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
As the wind unwinds the surface
The Savanna nods to The Shepherd gently
yet every steps he took left deeply-rooted footprints
He carelessly steps on her wildflowers,
and while he rest, he'd pluck some of hers
deep down he knows he's in dead end
The Savanna couldn't help her curiosity,
so she asked where is he heading off
and why he tossed his compass halfway to the ground
On the spur of a moment, The Shepherd fainted
his throat choked; like he wasn't allowed to say a word
little did The Savanna knows he was cursed
"I am no use of you," said The Shepherd.
"I am cursed to walk on my path with me alone;
I am cursed to left my soul in every steps I took
I am cursed to get lost in the midst of unknown!"
The Savanna embraces him tenderly
'tho every time he bawls out and enraged
for countless time she failed but she's persistent
"Let me take care of you," insists The Savanna
"Until your broken compass works again;
until you know where you are heading towards
—until then, let me help you."
And just like that,
The Shepherd found within her
his long-time quest; his very own oasis in the desert
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 12:12 PM UTC
Your gaze, as brightest stars in Milky Way
Your touch, warmest than sun rays
Your Voice, conch shell rhythm
Afar, yet nearest than ones heart
Your Being, ones shelter in stumble and fall
Cuddled asleep in your womb from worldly bawls
Your helpful hands stretched miles to foes or friends
Subsiding desires, what say of your kindness lent
O' son of Adam! worthy of such swaggering pride in this mud vessel
For as warm as fire for cold friends
Pure as water for their thirst to quench
But then, arrogate; how they call you, agreeing
None but the One revealed this highest being
O' naif son of Adam!
Rewarding oneself with noble note?
As a pharaoh who bestows
Remember the pledge and know the burden bore upon
Think you can repay with what makes you whole?
With all owned fortune, spirit or perhaps your very soul
Behold;
For what you claim yours, is not even owned
To Him it belongs,
To Him it returns
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 6:04 AM UTC
A DOLL in the doll-maker's house
Looks at the cradle and bawls:
"That is an insult to us.'
But the oldest of all the dolls,
Who had seen, being kept for show,
Generations of his sort,
Out-screams the whole shelf: 'Although
There's not a man can report
Evil of this place,
The man and the woman bring
Hither, to our disgrace,
A noisy and filthy thing.'
Hearing him groan and stretch
The doll-maker's wife is aware
Her husband has heard the wretch,
And crouched by the arm of his chair,
She murmurs into his ear,
Head upon shoulder leant:
"My dear, my dear, O dear.
It was an accident.'
1.7k
I was there the day the sun
was a ****** embryo & you
finally awoke under sick blue
mist.
Do you recall when Nell’s femur
fractured and she cried the way a cow
bawls when it is realized the calf will be
someone’s veal dinner.
Do you think of these times
or has a lardy mealworm crawled within
your nasal cavity & inched into your brain
to erase memories?
Gathering atop our 100 year old
dogwood, blackbirds beckon you daily
to return to your home of devastating
trauma.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
I love you.
I love you to the moon and back with my whole anatomical heart.
It sill beats you for you , every time we spoon
and more and more every **** time we part.
You jumbled my thoughts
our midnight talks
make my anatomical heart beat for you.
I think about "I do"
and wonder if you do too
for me, this is no ideal.
With two A.M. calls
and unexpected bawls,
you can only hold me and love me once again.
Love me to the moon and back with your anatomical heart too.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
Cliché is the glue of our bubblegum-flavored MTV culture,
Because we order language to go and with extra cheesy.
We pour words into televisions and radios,
And sent those waves to space.
We do this because the very vastness of our language
Is oozing from our ears like a runny nose,
And the torrents of tongues cannot seem
To penetrate the walls of the Jersey Shore.
Sometimes at night, Katie Couric weeps.
She bawls into the darkness when she realizes
That most of her viewers are waiting for her to shut up,
Like parents waiting for the baby to fall asleep,
Because there is *** to be had
And maybe Charlie Sheen will say something funny tonight.
We are tweeting away our TV-dinner monologues.
The cardinals miss our singing,
The way my “s” swishes against my “h,”
And the slightest stutter of my best friend,
Like a drum-solo-blue-jazz-soul-snare.
There is a river of modified nouns
This world has not had the privilege
To have run over their naked bodies.
Words that are chocolate-flavored like “cinnamon”
Curl up in your lap and scratch
The deepest part of your throat,
Where syntax has gone to hide away.
This river has been ****** by a thesaurus
That wants everything to be a synonym for ****
So I’ve got cliché stuck to my brain
Like gum beneath a classroom seat,
Like *********** that I can’t turn away from,
Disgusted though I may be,
Because everybody’s doing it.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 6:22 AM UTC
When night shimmers away and dawn appears,
Awakening all living things from slumber,
The sun is welcomed by all with cheers
As its heat signifies everything warm and dear.
Flowers arise in glory and bloom,
While butterflies carry on their endless pollination.
The first sign of day sweeps away all gloom,
And the sun is nicknamed,” god’s greatest creation”
And birds spread their wings and soar the skies,
Aiming to reach for the sun,
While the hapless baby bawls and cries,
And while the labourer butters his bun.
When the sun shines upon them,
All living things know,
That everything happy and new is brought about by the bright yellow gem,
And hence with joy does their life glow.
Because it’s the beginning of a brand new day,
Fresh, unique, and different from the last,
Fun and fulfilling in every way,
To help forget history and the past.
And so, also, as I look at the world around me,
Taking in the view,
Whatever I see,
Is not what I saw yesterday, but something new.
And as the bees store up their honey,
And businessmen store up their money,
My heart, warmed by the sun does sing
Gleefully welcoming a brand new day that’s just beginning…
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
Sick people sit sickly
on oaken benches
in a clinic with clean floors
and modern gadgets
for vetting clients
Little boy of three or four
bawls an unusual request:
he screams for an injection
where he's softest
and for the briefest of moments
Sick people suspend their agony
forget their fear and pain
and marvel at the boy's craving
for a needle that is terror
to most toddlers
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
the forest echoes when the mahoe falls
tall is the tree and strong deep is its root
at end of day even the staunchest bawls
honest men speak against all that appalls
their work is constant though most rare its fruit
the forest echoes when the mahoe falls
for just one instant fools delay their brawls
and bow their heads honour may touch the brute
at end of day even the staunchest bawls
at loss of friend we make our little calls
shed our few tears and learn it's absolute
the forest echoes when the mahoe falls
whether in calmness of the lecture-halls
or broadcasting to folk on their commute
at end of day even the staunchest bawls
knowing the silence that finally hauls
his voice away we cannot refute
the forest echoes when the mahoe falls
at end of day even the staunchest bawls
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 5:28 AM UTC
The bellows of your breathing
beating back the baffling barrier
between bare-faced beloved beauties.
The backward bedlam of your benevolent
heart besieges the bold bandit
that bawls brazenly in my blood.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
Slow to the jump, quick on the fall.
Falls in love, and gives it his all.
All tore up, his anxiety grows tall.
Tall list of insecurities, he lives as a thrall.
Thrall to the past, and with the past he brawls.
Brawls till he can't, gives up and falls.
Falls to the ground, lifts up and crawls.
Crawls to his room, picks himself up on the wall.
Walls up the past, climbs in bed and bawls.
Bawls himself to sleep, wakes up feeling small.
Small town where he lives, time to get on the ball.
***** up his pain and throws it away.
Time to start over. It's a brand new day.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
TS Eliot said, “Paris is a strong stimulant.”
It is - but it has nothing on Manhattan.
If Paris is a Café Crème espresso at a café-en-terrasse under the stars.
Manhattan is a ‘Black Tie Bawls’ cocktail at The Crown bar (the skyline!).
We were going to relax - in Manhattan,
instead, keep those seat belts fastened.
Lisa said, one night, “Want to go out for a bit?”
Since then, I’ll admit, our nights have been lit.
We have ten days, and we’ve decided to try every Michelin-starred restaurant we can (there are 68 in NYC). So far, we’ve been to Eleven Madison Park, Le Bernardin and Per Se. This was Lisa’s idea.
The food is delicious - if you like a corn-flake with something on it or a steak the size of a bouillon cube ($250 per person with cocktails and dessert). As we left ‘Per Se’ I asked, “Can we get something to eat now? I’m starved.” I was only ½ kidding.
It’s MY idea to visit every beautix rooftop bar in Manhattan (there are exactly10). So far, we’ve been to, ‘The Peninsula,’ ‘230-Fith’’ and ‘NoMad’ - we’ve only been at these tasks for three nights.
We’re doing other things too. We’re going to Broadway shows (& Juliet, the Great Gatsby, Oh Mary!, Wicked) and to see Idina Menzel (Wicked, Frozen) in concert and a John Oliver and Seth Meyers comedy show next Monday. We do these, as in - Dinner, show, rooftop bar.
OH, and we’re dancin’ like we’re sentient - no cap.
Our sordid troup, is Lisa and Dave (her boo), Charles & Ms Charles, Lisa’s folks (Karen and Michael) and Lisa’s little sister Leeza and Meeeee. Luckily, we have one of my Grandmère’s conglomerate, executive secretarial minions (François) booking reservations for us. He’s got ‘contacts.’
Yeah, we’re drivin’ full speed towards summer’s end - “fo-shizzle” (to quote Snoop Dogg). We figure we can rest, a few days, in New Haven.
Wasn’t Snoop fire at the Olympics?
.
.
dance club songs, for this one:
One Kiss by Calvin Harris & Dua Lipa
Lipstick by Kungs
Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
Levitating by Dua Lipa
.
.
slang…
café-en-terrasse = terrace cafe
Black Tie Bawls = (cocktail) Blavod black ***** lemon, and Bawls energy drink.
beautix = top drawer, rizz
No cap = no lie
fo-shizzle = for sure
fire = great, a standout
[E] = explicit
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 4:57 PM UTC
I've seen you war
Your big bawls and short "ahems!"
Fear was your greatest weapon
With it you caused much mayhem
You killed the conscience
You ***** the soul
On these streets i see dead people
You got them all
I've seen you war
Sleek, raw, enslaving clicks
Fear the bullet, media guns
How you've mastered your trigger - pulling tricks
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The bullets rain
Facebook. Twitter. Aljazeera - The Raid
The lies you fed us
"But we was afraid....."
And lonely too
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
gazing past picket fence
everything is too intense
inside even walls don’t talk
silence but for a scraping fork
no one seems to notice her
by the window, can’t you hear?
the wordless cry for help she bawls
but soon again her fate comes to call,
“stay with momma, baby
daddy loves you dearly
come stand by me, closely
momma will protect thee.”
the children play with sticks and stones
they shout out words she doesn’t know
hopping round they hug each other
cousin and friend, sister and brother
if only they would say her name
she’d jump right up and join the game
she’d burst through the door and finally see the light
for she knows it’s the key to release her from her plight.
“do not be foolish, darling
what you dream of is crazy
you have not seen what I’ve seen
the world is just too scary.”
the anger builds inside her head
if she’s not allowed to live then she may as well be dead
not permitted just to be, take a bite, have a look-see
but she holds on still, any day now she’ll be set free,
“sweetheart, what a pretty thought
but you've forgotten all I've taught
you've overlooked one detail, see
to get to them, you’ll have to get past me.”
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 4:11 AM UTC
We were born to die alone in the dark
A dissected corpse, a desiccated heart
Loose limbs tightened with rigor mortis
Broken bones and emptied bawls
Becoming a morticians doll
To be posed and paraded before
Our loved ones
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
Frost evening comes, I must go out,
Half scared to brave the bitter
But nature calls, one barks, one bawls,
Two dogs go out together.
Four padding paws, eight furry feet,
However you would call them,
The wind kicks up, their pace increase
Towards warm garage doors open.
I wish, like them, my coat was fur,
To keep me warm in snowtimes
But soon enough the seasons turn
We’ll romp and play in sunshine!
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
She seems cheery at the table, husband's arm around her
Swaddled in the structure of his family home
Joining in the prayers, helping light each candle
New year strikes and she returns the smiles
Emptiness tucked in the corners where they cannot see
Yet once everyone's rushed to bed
- Pedar's no longer young, and his mother worries -
She cannot help but return to the table alone
Her smile brighter, wider, twisting into a grimace
She cradles the Seeb to her chest and bawls without words
For the son she never met, the hand she never held
The way her mother-in-law joked about grand-kids
And her husband couldn't meet her eyes
For the sense of failure she knows she should not feel
For the prayers where she hoped for fertility and health
Once more, in private, in whispered sobs she begs
The vinegar for patience, the garlic to protect
The Senjed and the Sumac for her love to bear fruit
The sprouts for a rebirth to shed the guilt of death.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she climbs the stairs
Returning to her place in her husband's arms.
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 2:24 PM UTC
Silly, silly tree they say.
Tree grow, tree tall, branches flow, branches fall, wind blows, wind sprawls.
Tree cries, tree bawls, branches fly, wind enthralled, tree leans, tree sways, waiting to snap, atmosphere hectic, chaotic, structure and order eroding.
Soon the tree will cease to reach beyond the horizon.
Yet onlookers look on, all they see is a stubborn tree that can never be broken.
But they can't see wind.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
An angel fallen, an angel dead
Humpty Dumpty hit his head
An angel in chains, an angel in pain
Rapunzel in the tower, going insane
An angel who frowns, an angel who drowns
Cinderella has fallen, she's broken her crown
An angel who cries, an angel who dies
Little Red hides, with tears in her eyes
An angel who falls, an angel who bawls
Ariel is drowning, trapped among walls
An angel is frozen, an angel is broken
A dream is shattered, words best left unspoken
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC