"crystalized" poems
It’s a beautiful mystery
This cosmic playground we find ourselves
drifting, waiting, searching,
for guidance.
And answers.
To galvanize,
our fear with love,
life with death,
tears with joy.
Yet through this beautiful mystery,
dreams come forth,
from the cave of darkness.
The world is clearly crystalized,
I feel my being, mysterious and pure.
Yes, this beautiful mystery strikes at night,
causes sleepless daydreams,
of what might have been,
had fear not guided life.
Mystery provides meaning,
and at my end of days,
when my tiny universe implodes,
I had meaning, through a beautiful mystery,
so the beautiful mystery,
is me.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
I need not use full sentences
I cannot if I want to express
The structure confines, represses, degrades
the integrity of the cries
Help me speak
My throat, mouth too dry
so dry, I do not have tears
Salt crystalized and formed the rock
mounds glowing orange
in the dessert sunset
my spirit rests, crushed to rubble
like ash
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 3:00 PM UTC
i fell into freedom
my last sickness bled
wounded knees
are my omen
for fearing the regret
blindness ensued
by the art of decadence
lapping my loneliness
to heal what must be forgiven
suffocate in my web
of self care
mistaken for truth
support but no input
secure yet unprotected
cut out and crystalized
****** drifters travel free
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
Beyond dilation scuttle eyed pin hole magnetic stigmata
I swear if you rub red the right way it scores points with the Almighty
Crystalized She used to run around with ***** fingers
She was made in a bathtub
Towhead floating face up
Like a deep breath doll laugh goodnight
I'm balanced hypodermic in the chamber
Reading from the black stenciled numbers 100cc
Here is the end's beginning
A brand new case of rigs
She's dancing on the counter
Dancing in my head
She's won't let me sleep
And my dreams become electric
25% oxygen not counting waste
Or the tingle on the back of my throat
25 seconds until we reach the half life Wear the dunce hat.
Bruised arms
and a 90% isopropyl bath
Two weeks non sleep
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
The night sky spits crystalized drops of clarity.
I stand with eyes painted black
My lips painted red
And ponder my reality.
Unloaded amps, keyboards, guitars take up more space
Then my heart can create room for
Erratic beats and flailing feet explode my sense of peace
and I'm caught in the harsh whipping of the vibrating music
played too loud to hold any resonance
its only purpose to push the sweat to dancers skin.
This music which I normally love so much
Falls flat to ears accustomed to the screams of suffocating ideals
and I forget why I am here.
I forget why these arms love his with a tired affection
that withstands his sublimations and holds his faults in a place where everything he creates is perfect.
We are not perfect.
This rain falls in thin sheets
intermingling with tears that suddenly appear on my flushed cheeks
and I taste salt.
Throughout the infinities trapped in teenage years I find
Its taste a fading memory
a paling reminder to how submissive I have become
and before I can remember exactly where it's from
Its gone and I am left with arms full of his music gear
and a heart too full to hold with only two hands.
He calls back to see if I need help
and I say no
because what are you going to say when you are shattering and do not know why.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 2:10 AM UTC
Sand-crusted catacombs of dismembered dreams
Settle beside memories of the child who grew up
In rocky Harpswell, Maine. Not many beaches,
Only a foggy stretch beyond Morse Mountain --
But I used to stand ankle-deep
In the water, wait until my toes sank
Into crystalized Earth
And bubbles from Littleneck clams.
I’d stand there until goosebumps spread upon
My blanched legs, rising up, up, like the artificial hills
Of Maya Lin’s Storm King Wavefield.
Now, when I lie alone,
Misplaced inside a vacant Manhattan studio,
I surrender to sirens and accelerated lives.
Peace comes in painting – thick oil,
Violet and claret on stretched canvas,
Depictions of neon signs and cityscapes,
Cheap t-shirt stands on street corners,
And 24-hour coffee shops with “specialty”
Blends in little white travel mugs – selling
To flocks of strangers, strutting like pigeons on cement
Sidewalks, pretending they belong.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Unknown and known
Poetic terms that you
Delicately paint across
The screen
Unreal and real
Canvas 's
Flickering
Abundance
Is like n *****
Is a lovely simile
Is a metaphor for a fantastic
venture
Is a statement
Of falling in love
With your words
With your work
With the You
Wonderfully
Genuine
Foolishly
Aetheral and crystalized
Like
Snowflakes through air
Briefly temporal, anchored
On the misty treetops of my
Unreasonable reason
Slightly
Holding on those
Unleaved, yet loving
Widspread branches
To
Waver and yeald...within
Blizzards of swirling
Emotions
~~
Both
Burning
Unstoppable
Yearning
~~~
Of my and thine mind
~~~~
Growing from souls
Spontaneously, naturally,
Without a question!?
Rays of our universal consciousness
Gently melt snowflakes into the water
That sleeps and slides awaken slipping
Downwards the lichened tree barks toward The ground, appointing and connecting
North, South, East and West
Where they rejoice the seasonal
Foundation of fastbinding spins
between
:;'".,,;;
Thine and mine
Tiny dot particles asking eachother
Inviting the most beautiful
To appear
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 11:24 AM UTC
I don't recall the bad memories
I feel the hopes,the wishes,the dreams
A whole empire made of green
the lights that blink in my eyes
Crystalized moonshine,
We're alive
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 6:21 AM UTC
crystalized veins,
and a moon rock heart--
only shooting myself in the foot,
but i like to watch the blood
flow. the stubborn
stalk doesn't need
water to grow.
fool of my own
demise, but you
have to die to
reach heaven.
so i'll stick to my
guns no matter
what.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
This is not a letter to myself,
Nor to someone I left.
This is for someone filled with regrets,
For those whose pain demanded to be felt;
It was the obscure evening,
The night when you found yourself— empty.
You lost trace of the light's being,
T'was the moment you chose to flee.
You gave everything you must give,
Gave them all their needs—
Yet there's nothing left for you, not a penny,
Not even a single bit of sympathy.
You were lost, tears were crystalized,
Pain made you lose your mind.
There, you made a decision,
You became your own rebellion.
You killed people, hurt 'em with your words,
But never regret, they did the worse.
Chose to choke you while you're breathless;
The people who made your darkness.
It wasn't your fault that you hurt people,
It was them, who killed your own person.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
i didn’t come here to smell like roses.
the stain in my shirt; blue paint crystalized in cotton
and greased in sawdusty sweat,
goes unwashed as waterfowl feathers-
an oil skin to shed the lake.
i didn’t come here to build an empire.
the lumber walls and archways go unbowed on the stage
measured to the bone of fingers, polished by blades
made to be perfect and immortal for a day,
then razed and unchained
and quicker than a sandcastle-
laid back into the bay.
i didn’t come here learn a trade
every skill is the same; do as instructed,
think for yourself, know when to push the bit into biting the wood
and when to put your drill back on to the shelf,
when to re-cut what doesn’t feel right
and when to trust the math
over your own sight.
i didn’t come here for the photograph
or your theater arts career path
or to sing through the saw screams
even though i do
i came here, where we know
the characters are in costume
the creations will be forgotten
where the applause wont reach my ego
and feed the ghost of self
that wants to captain without crew
i came here to work, where only work is true.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:42 AM UTC
I surveyed from my electric piano
Seated in monotonous comfort
In the skewed seat of a classroom, to the left
In my orb of scrutiny
The light was yellow and thin
Each child seemingly no good
Sewing away at their desks, the days literature
One of them contorted, still feet facing forward
Her petite waist shifted mechanically and geared to a stop in my direction
In native culture, her spirit would be something feline and pleased
It was in her focused grey stare, fluorescing milky blue
Her iris’s de-crystalized and oscillated in thick Rorschach drops
As the spell was cast I remained, seated in observation
Wanting to style her maniacal lips
Our thoughts made love in a cloud above this sea of starving fish
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 10:38 AM UTC
In any mirrored face
the homeless sees nothing shuffling
from his favorite stores
At night they feel their wild
canine teeth
Words surfacing
uncollected in fragments and scratches
besde underdeveloped manors
in the city's growing mold
and buildings separated by dust like a ream of books
on the trail to the open west
Noise clock, sharp chiming
and unbearable
soot blackness of perpetual rain
pulsing faintly in a palsied
flow of the oppressive
heats and sounds
My sister is a forgotten composer of rebellion
given only the courage
to think her words will merely be
a droning
cello's moans
and preludes unsettled
and old
Without authority
someone might hear her
centuries too late
when few will give her a wait or wax cylinder
of words no better than it's tremorless
indentations unseen by the eyes and ears
The days of crystalized quartz
and effeminate handshakes and kisses
vacant gestures and the beautiful
view of the destitue on a warm
spring morning in the park
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 1:23 PM UTC
There will always be that one person,
Who will forever stick in your mind,
Who you knew you could have saved,
Had you only walked the line,
And to that person I am sorry,
I am sorry I ever let you go,
That I let go of your hand and watched you fall,
That I gave nothing, while you bore it all,
I am sorry for all the secrets I kept,
And for all the burdens I permitted,
I wish I hadn't run, that I was able to accept,
The truth for what it was, but I was too young.
I was too young and selfish,
Too needy and naive,
I was too focused on a wish,
Reality was too hard to perceive,
I never saw the difference between smoke and *******
I couldn't see how it crystalized and destroyed your brain,
I rejected the fear of overdoses and excessive ****
I never thought a lifestyle would become your death,
I am sorry I only ever pushed you once,
I would have done it a thousand more times,
If it could have saved those crazy eyes; that beautiful smile,
If it meant your body wouldn't become a John Doe on file.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
Fumbling fingers yearning for connection,
Reach out through negative space,
Crash headlong into rejection.
Curl back in defeat,
Clenched fist to deflect,
Fiery agony of regret.
An empty, disparaging inflection
Cut from a hot pink tongue, flapping
Dispassionately disproves theory of interconnection,
Maybe myth, fable, love story --
Or maybe lack of detection,
From calloused palms,
Roughened with each ingestion
Of honey suckle poison.
Was this the original intention?
Or did the son choose to elect
Another hidden path, indirect.
This haze manifests crystalized predictions,
Of hands meeting thighs, meeting hips,
Pushing forward climactic introspection,
Or just another muddled reflection,
Of my endless projections,
Always failing tests of retention,
Mind permanently trapped in suspension,
Of spiraling tension.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
I was recovering, and breathing alone,
Abandoned in a cold place.
There was no hope, and that was okay.
But that's when I saw your face.
And you made me warm.
A soft voice with a welcoming tone,
And gentle, jolting eyes,
We stood outside in the winter weather
And your breath crystalized.
Yet you kept me warm.
I feel the explosion in my chest,
when I feel your eyes on me.
I'd live a thousand lives in wonder
Just to see what you see.
Do I make you warm?
But that's when you kissed me on my lips
And the ice began to fall apart.
Mister Furnace melted the iceberg,
And he melted my heart.
When he kept me warm.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC
I have posted endless
letters to my beloved
to open them when I'm
gone and trickle a tear
for us maybe many
moons, suns, stars, look at us!
we probably exist in sunlight
wretched the same between
betweexed white clouds
floating on fantastic
feathers hope awaits us
one apt day pierced with
blazing light sinking
softly unheard
fainting
resignation dissolvin'
astonished silent
boundaries
of flesh crystalized
*of transcendense being
pregnant with your heart*
felt transcendental height?
It's been trembling
These ******* moments
crashing crashing
into one another
smashing
the given time
reality scope
long leak
of remotness
flowersprings and
stolen dreams
and we're done!
for such a minor great
distance I'll die anyhow
somwhere not soon
without you
which I love without
any reasonable substance
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
Touching her hot blood euforically flowed through his heart and veins permeated his soul not only with passion but with belongingness and inseparability almost spilling from his mouth to her soul when he kissed her. Spirit of superhuman, metaphysical love crystalized in their hearts by hand of God before they met . She awaited him while he awaited her to be lost in the spell of their eyes and sink in amazement of magic wand of universe. Nights became divine dimension, day boundless delight of sun given them at their feet.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
sometimes I think of the night.
I cried so much over you
my eyelashes became crystalized, encrusted,
with salt.
an ocean just previously
gushing from within
my cavernous diaphragm.
I could pull it off with the tips of my fingers
touch it to my lip
taste the brine.
Forget-me-nots laden in my skin
shrieking memories
calloused thin.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
She was a real angel,
stars covered
her pretty face
& she read to me
my poetry.
O Where did
Violet go?
Nobody really knows....
but maybe,
just maybe,
she's back in Heaven.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
im afraid i have lost my touch.
try to crack the stone stoic surface
skin crystalized to rock of
the most expensive yet mundane
shine stolen diamond.
i find myself here, alone,
sitting in the study room of
a school i never wanted to go to
in a town i never wanted to call home.
alone, picking at the surface,
pricking the tips of my fingers for
just a single drop.
by the ax will not crack the exterior
the uniformed exoskeleton
will not harvest any value.
whatever is in here is deeply buried,
swept away in the black currents
and silenced by the quiet smile of
'really, im fine.'
expression perfected by painted porcelain.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
Can’t I just hold your hand
Try to feel your soul inside mine
Relax, exhale, take my final inhale
Drift off to sleep in my arms,
Blanketed in certainty and unattainable infatuation
Make me whole
Fill my fragmented cracks with the cement of your devotion
Tile the rooms of my brain with glass
To see within the deserted halls
see the shadows creeping out of obscurity
see the graffitied window panes,
Covered with initials of lost people
Make me feel alive
Enchant me with your laugh
Douse me with your tongue licks,
Feeling like stinging hornets or a
Tattoo needle crawling across my flesh
Battling the many scars, bruises, freckles, marks
Trace my veins with fingertips of silk
Dance under this canopy of frostbitten ceiling fans
Relinquish power to the earths seductive pulse
Be with me
Conform your broken body with mine and
Feel my sweet tears drip into your abyss
Soak them up like dried up dandelions
Shed them too
When you feel, I feel
Say jump and I’m
not scared of the height
Air is openness and the ground is your arms
Gravitate towards me, my
radioactive body decays
Feel the radiation, the heart wrenching terrors of
unrequited loves that have left me in
shackles designed for thieves
You have stolen my heart
****** it out of its cold castle,
Crystalized by broken promises
Dream me a new day
Enfold me in destinations beyond our reach
And make sure to catapult my shattered limbs and
Flailing body at the sun,
For it shines brighter than me
Need the comfort of your giggle
Tickling me from the inside, invading my digestive system,
Planting seeds of butterflies
Cope with my sadness
I’ll cope with yours
Please
Can’t I just hold your hand.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC
Crippled crowned crowds crawling for a crate
Craving to cry in crystalized cradles
Formed of fires in a fidgeting frame,
Favor the finest flavor for your fate!
Bedtime in a bleak baby-like babble
Blessed on his bustier blasting the blames
Gently gathering her gorgeous gauntlet
Glad to be glazed in the glass of his gin!
Soothed by his sights for this serene sin
Secretly seduced by this spoiled piglet
Whooshing wooden wildness withering
On the willing winding ***** whispering!
December, 3, 2015
Lyon 2 University, France
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
I walk out to the garden
in the morning again
ahhh how I feel winter's bone
while yes it is August
an it's hotter an hell
but I hear that cold wind
just a-moan
an just a tinge of bittersweetness
in how fast time has flown
and why is it I
that must always now
roam?
an why is it my
leaf that's always windblown?
sigh
but I know
no use just to wonder
I must just embrace the unknown
and yes as my aging bones
they ache too
an I feel the pangs
of missing
the sunshine an warm,
as the winds are a-changin
an the coldness now hangs
those crystalized skies
to soon form
but sigh that's alright
for Autumn comes first
in beauty to see
here unrivaled
our winter is harsh
tho poetically so,
it's the way of my life
my survival
through perilous times
conditions too much
I have now have learned to be stoic
an my father was too
to rarely complain
an I thought my dad was heroic
he worked long and hard
conditions or not,
at least in of what I remember
an his favorite of times
well it was the fall
starting here early September,
the pies and the pumpkins
the laughter and leaves
in smells and in sights to delight
the colorous splendor
awaiting the drift
covering the mountains in white
so bring on the winds
and the beautiful leaves
as everything dead becomes new
in everything seen
and in seasons to pass,
as I am reminded of you
I say a most sincere
and grateful thank you for my life.
Ma Cherie © 2017
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 9:47 AM UTC
clock-tick,
latch-click,
footsteps darting down the stairs--
you're...gone!
******
Fingertips of night smudge and smear their ebony gloss streaks
Down dusty, grimy glass--
Swallowing your spectral image
In the glazed glow of neon-rainbow billboards.
A twenty-first century Lancelot, you don your callousness
And self-loathing like a tarnished suit of armor--
On a chilviarous quest to save two-hundred-dollar Nocturne Ladies
From drug-primed pimps....
T h e m s e l v e s.....
But--n o t from you!
****
Passions fire, and my love, follow you
Through myriads of abandoned, midnight alleyways,
And already I have squandered the ghosts
Of your deceptive warmth, and poisoned promises.
The heaviest of down comforters
Fail to cease my chills
And I am as bloodless
As before your first lethal kisses.
Your inevitable absence is the deep burn of frostbite,
Your eventual return an addiction--
The relief insatiable neuralgia--
I c r a v e your presence.
Your vanishing is like slicing away strips of my skin--
The carving, and cutting release a chronic, arctic cold
That confronts me from within my crystalized soul....
I freeze, and die, e a c h time you leave.
*****
From within the hollow of our bed
The mist of a heroine-induced haze rises--
Enfolded in the memory of your lingering lust, I slip
between the sweat-soaked sheets, and pain-drenched pillows....
Longing...promising...hoping...that I'll be gone--t o m o r r o w.....
Waiting...bargaining with the darkness...listening to.....
clock-tick,
latch-click,
your footsteps stumbling up the stairs.............
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC