"cappucino" poems
christmas lights have a smell
as does freedom, hatred, and ugliness of heart
headaches have a smell, clarity has a smell
home smells like new wood and sand,
both growing up and childhood smell like smoke,
fear smells like my sister's old bathroom
sleep smells like my mom's perfume
love is warm and smells like sleep
anxiety smells like Pure Sport Old Spice deodorant,
work smells like a gym,
familiarity smells like the locker room when the trash
hasn't been taken out,
lost love smells like grass on the lakefront,
nostalgia smells like a cappucino,
comfort in isolation smells like the fur of a dog,
purpose smells like a church,
platitudes smell like mildew,
tears smell like rotten wood but joy smells like that too,
jubilation smells like a fire crackling,
discomfort smells like that attic smell
when the Halloween decorations are taken out,
new beginnings as well as things we leave behind
smell like airports and morning dew,
risk smells like a hot tub,
liberty smells like a public pool,
a broken heart smells like the mountains,
but a healed heart smells like them too.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
you’re my cup of coffee at 6:45 AM
smell dancing like incense in the middle of pooja
warm as the sun peaking out shyly behind the horizon
richly sweet caramelized sugar pearly cream
and bitter like the small things i dont know about you yet.
but when you touch my lips
the bitterness i can swallow with the sweet
and the sweet i savor with every taste bud on my tongue.
before i head out the door at 7 AM
i kiss your forehead and wash out the emptied mug
but the taste of cappucino lingers at the corners of my mouth
as i wave good day to you.
and when i return at 5:30 PM
limbs pathetically sown on with prayers
empty rivers landfills of worry time ticking like a heartbeat
the aroma wafts around me again like a scarf.
in your embrace
i fall asleep with dreams of whipped clouds and
love at the cafe.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Her hair smelled of
Rubber erasers
Late nights
Spilled cappucino
But somehow still looked beautiful.
She was like her grades, a perfect 10/10
Sharp eyes denoting a wide mind that
Every day I wanted to dive into.
I was wrapped around her finger
Like the pen she'd always chew on
When she'd look at me with fire in her eyes.
I love you Bienne.
give me the ****
ughhhh b0ss pls
can i habeda pu$$y pls
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
I’m nervous to be with you,
Little fireworks dancing in my stomach.
I’m nervous to speak to you,
Afraid that I’ll end up speaking in a different language.
I’m nervous to hear you,
Something so foreign yet so familiar in my dreams.
I’m nervous to smell you,
Will you smell more like the cappucino you swirl in your cup each morning
Or more like the panettone you help your mamma make on Sunday’s?
I’m nervous to look at your eyes,
To see those beautiful chocolate brown occhi stupendi stare right back into mine,
Little do you know I’m swimming them.
I’m nervous to see those perfect lips,
Lips that I would drink in like the red wine I swallowed like a pill,
To try to forget about you.
I’m nervous to see your face,
A face that I would recognize with my hands if I were ever blindfolded.
I’m nervous to touch you,
Even the slightest brush of hands would make my body tingle.
I'm nervous for you,
what will you think of me?
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
Ye olde Yo-cum, advises get thee to a nunnery of trees, leaves of sunlight scorched sunrises and sunsets to clear the cobwebs and recall more fully the good stuff, like in Oregun,
allow it to resonant via ****** shots of temporal, but seasonal natural harmony, a more regulat visitor of the upcoming comes of good weather and the life by the water, on a tiny islansd, long lazy days, and a lessening of the
mental haze-ing
punctuating life with long walks and teardrops of tears, poetry suggestives, will be dropping from icy white cumulus every day clouds, moving to uncover the elaborate and running trills of colutara words lurking within, no more the blaring horns of trafficked sounds of First Ave., trucks fighting to de-liver-er the urgencies of consumption (a most excellent disease) and the potpourri symphony of marching bands blaring of ambulances, fire trucks, and the EXTRAordinary impatience of horn blaring taxis up and down York Ave., dropping off patients 24-7 at a laundry list of "specialized" Hospitals with "views of the river in every room"
I miss the quietude noises of summer breezes tickling minds, trees frothing a
cappucino sun heated breeze to stir the blush and rush of words forming faster than the mind can absorb;
alas, alas, this same mind can never fully squeeze out the sins of memories of winter's travails and yet, the mere suggestion of my old friends embracing me, sun, wind, green landscapes, sea and land animals coming to greet the human interlopers makes me all stirred up, like watching white milk in black coffee spread its cooling affection and lightening the black; aerate and mixing the perptual continuum of my ever slowly chilling bloodstream streaming to mind
and I sigh, for many reasons...but in my heart, I am, and remain, forever a summer man...
aerate and mix and I sigh, for many reasons...
Absent brain surgery, the mind wanders following the sun's trajectory, wither?
Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 7:40 AM UTC
I recall , on a trip through Chicago, I was aboard the express train, and this young 30 year old blonde sat across from me on the trip to St' louis1:53 AM
'twas so long ago and by the way my past life, so1:55 AM
She seemed enamored of my conquests in the market. She leaned forward listening with youthful exuberance
running her hands through her hair , suggex=stively
what did you say I asked her?
over seventy my hearing was not top rate1:58 AM
my smile beamed and my head nodded with her every word, whether or not I heard 2:02 AM
I heard of her tales of woe on her travails from Ohio across every border fighting off the groveling men
and how her one true love had left her for another 2:15 AM
she lifted the hem of her long dress so I might gain a peek of her white frilly garments as she put one leg upon her other knee
I caught a glimpse of a pearl handled deringer in a holster on her ankle
and she smiled knowingly 2:45 AM
right then I got up and bowed and went to get off , for we had arrived in St louis 2:47 AM
I took three steps , then turned and said, madam, I see we are quite a pair of matched scoundrels, I so like your apparel and your airs, might I buy you a cappucino here down at Louis ? 2:50 AM
she pulled the pearl handled gun and before she had taken aim I kissed her hand and squeezed. We were married the next day! at high noon!
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
6 a.m di Surabaya - 1 a.m di Gaza
Saat bangun tidur badanku terasa lemas.
Masih terlalu pagi aku masih ingin berbaring di kasur.
Sambil kubuka akun X orang orang Gaza yang kukenal.
Tapi hanya akun Omar yang tampak aktif.
Memposting apapun yang sedang dia alami.
Omar mengeluh susah tidur.
Kedinginan berselimut kain tipis usang.
Banyak nyamuk masuk ke tendanya.
Sementara di luar suara zanana mengganggu.
Diselingi ledakan bombardir pesawat jet.
10 a.m di Surabaya - 05 a.m di Gaza
Aku bosan menunggu antrian bank yang ramai.
Sambil menunggu sepi kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh melihat banyak belatung.
Merubung sisa tepungnya yang hampir kadaluwarsa.
Dia tak bisa lagi membuat roti.
11 a.m di Surabaya - 06 a.m di Gaza
Aku menunggu ojek online di tepi jalan.
Sambil merokok kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh kehabisan sabun dan shampo.
Sementara air untuk mandi dan mencuci.
Hanya tersisa setengah ember.
01 p.m di Surabaya - 08 a.m di Gaza
Aku sedang makan siang di Peneleh.
Makan pecel sambil kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh saat mengantri di toko.
Menghabiskan waktu dan tenaga.
Berdesak desakan hanya untuk sekantung roti.
04 p.m di Surabaya - 11 a.m di Gaza
Saat sore aku nongkrong di Wonokromo.
Minum kopi sambil kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh setelah belanja di pasar.
Bawang , tomat , terong , kentang dan cabai.
Harganya semakin naik tak terjangkau.
06 p.m di Surabaya - 01 p.m di Gaza
Aku sedang duduk di beranda masjid.
Menunggu isya sambil kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh setelah berjalan jauh.
Merasakan kepanasan dan kelelahan.
Hanya untuk mengecas ponselnya di solar panel dekat pantai.
08 p.m di Surabaya - 03 p.m di Gaza
Aku masih makan malam di Tunjungan.
Makan rawon sambil kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Ternyata di Gaza sedang hujan deras.
Omar mengeluh setelah tendanya kebanjiran.
Barang barangnya basah terkena air hujan.
09. p.m di Surabaya - 04 p.m di Gaza
Temanku mengajak minum kopi di kafe.
Minum cappucino sambil kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh sudah lama tidak makan ayam.
Yang bisa dia lakukan hanyalah menggambar ayam.
Lalu menaruhnya di atas piring kosong.
10 p.m di Surabaya - 5 p.m di Gaza
Aku sedang menonton sepakbola.
Saat jeda kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Dia mengeluh setelah memeriksa Gofundme.
Hampir seminggu tak mendapat donasi.
Sementara uangnya hanya tersisa puluhan shekel.
01 a.m di Surabaya - 08 p.m di Gaza
Tengah malam aku bersiap tidur.
Sambil berbaring di kasur kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Ternyata pemukiman dekat tendanya baru saja dibombardir.
Omar mengeluh setelah kelelahan membantu evakuasi.
Dia hampir muntah melihat serpihan tubuh berlumuran darah.
03. a.m di Surabaya - 10 p.m di Gaza
Aku merasa kesulitan tidur.
Sambil mendengarkan musik kubuka lagi akun Omar.
Ternyata dia masih tetap mengeluh.
Merasa lelah terus menerus mengeluh.
Terlalu banyak keluhan hingga kelelahan mengeluh.
Aku juga lelah melihat Omar terus mengeluh.
Tapi orang yang menderita memang harus mengeluh.
Hanya mayat yang tak bisa lagi mengeluh.
Mayat tak merasakan penderitaan untuk dikeluhkan.
Daripada menjadi mayat lebih baik Omar tetap hidup walaupun terus mengeluh.
November 2024
By Alvian Eleven
Dec 9, 2024
Dec 9, 2024 at 1:44 PM UTC