"disheveling" poems
I'm a stormy landslide
And you're an earthquake
A disheveling tide
Tide that caresses me
While I subside
Subside to heathens
The heathens whose embers forever collide
Collide in the arms of your feigned stride.
.
.
.
Mehek
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 2:15 AM UTC
oh, you made the common winter flu virus
jealous the way you dispersed yourself
inside my veins and refused to go without a
fight;
disheveling every fragment and fiber
that supports my frail bone structure,
provoking all 25 trillion two hundred million white blood
cells, rattling about in the stream that
keeps me alive and;
with this,
I noticed the way you ordered yourself to be
a bandage, but I soon discovered you stitched
it on too petulantly for my liking
Perhaps, you are the winter flu in bad times
but everyone knows that I’m
already sick for you
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
This is not a Russian Roulette,
but a game that aims to forget - for its chambers
each loaded with a bullet.
No point in spinning the cylinder
At any rate, she will pull the trigger.
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
For all the guilt and regret
That will endlessly chase until the last gasp for air
Imperiling; Suffocating
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
For all the shared walks and late night talks
Of faded moments of laughter and giggles
Of traded sentiments trapped in an instance of felicity.
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
For all the petty fights and struggling rights.
Words trip through disheveling minds
falling into a pit of abysmal distress.
Gunshot straight at one’s own heart
For this undying, imperishable memories
Not even a bullet and its fast-paced release
could make it vanish..
And now I ran out of ammos.
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 6:16 AM UTC
I felt your presence today.
Beaming rays of your smile surrounded me
I knew it was only you
Thieving the sun of its glory
Bowing,
Allowing your smile to illuminate the world instead.
I felt the warmth of your sisterly embrace
Your silken hair caressed my cheek
As the March breeze wrapped around me
Your golden rays disheveling my skin.
I hear my name, whispered
Sifting through the branches of the dogwood tree
A thick accent enveloping me in the disappearing leaves
You are here.
You're surrounding me
Drying my tears with a short wafting of spring breeze
Laughing, the way you always do
You are with me.
I gaze towards the heavens
Meeting the vibrant blue of your eyes
And I feel you
The way the blind cannot see
But must feel.
You are still here.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
Mamma found him in his cage while I was away
At Jordan Ray’s
Talons up, feathers flat
.
Dearest neglect of Joey the bird
Lived in a pink cage,
Grew bright green feathers with a light blue spot on his shoulder.
Sister bought him at a mall cart,
Saved him, it seemed,
But now it’s clear that his fate was condemned
A live heart beat quick in hollow bones
.
From Jordan’s I rushed,
Hurried to confirm the news of my mother’s text:
“Joey died. You need to come home and clean your room”
Warm hearts beat cold in the blaze of August morning
Mamma, I found, she put him in the trash
Like a piece of pie with one bite taken
I found him lain upon heaps of pear peelings
Doomed in line to decompose
Among the **** and waste of the world
I picked him up
Placed him into a small shoe box
“Come on, Joey bird, lay in here”
It’s warm and dry and safe
Joey lay there, patient and dead
I took him in the yard
Out of the room he’d been in
Since sister brought him home
I found him a tree to chirp in, great oak
I placed his box on the grass and dug
Dug
Dug until I went beneath some roots
…
Kept digging
Unearthing pebbles and insect homes
Disheveling years of dirt and order
.
The heat of the day was boiling on my swelling soul
How could mother throw him in the trash?
Was he not alive; a thing? As much a miracle as you or me?
And my sister, his keeper, was not there to witness
Finally joey fit right
Fit just where he needed to be
The base of a great oak tree
Whose roots would **** him in
Like the lump in my heart did
With every scoop of soil
Like the love missed in life that joey died without
.
That was the first day I hated my mother
That was the first time I missed my sister
That was the only life I’ve ever mourned
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 6:10 PM UTC
I'm sorry I forget,
Forget us
The distance creates in me a fret
I try to hold on
But the absence seeps in
Disheveling our forgotten bond.
.
.
.
Mehek
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
Long nights,
longer days,
blur together
disheveling my thoughts,
leaving my mind in a disarray
coating the bathroom mirror.
Stifled screams of your name,
or maybe its mine,
herding my thoughts
into small fences
offering me two choices
to feel,
or not to feel.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC