The stars still shone last night, and tasted pretty like my last sonnet;
And I still loved thee; and imagined thee 'fore I retreated to bed.
Ah, but thou know not-thou wert envied by t'at squeaking trivial moon;
It seduced and befriended thee; but took away thy sickly love too soon.
Ah, t'at moon which was burnt by jealousy, and still perhaps is,
Took away thy love-which, if only willing to grow; couldst be dearer than his.
But too thy love, which hath-since the very outset, been mostly repulsive and arduous;
And loving thee was but altogether too customary, and at gullible times, odious.
Ah, but how I was too innocent-far too innocent, was I!
Why didst I stupidly keepeth loving thee-whose soul was but too sore, and intense-with lies?
And at t'is very moment, every purse of stale dejection leapt away from me;
Within t'eir private grounds of madness; but evaporating accusations.
Ah, so t'at thou desired me not-and thus art deserving not of me;
But why didst I resist not still-thy awkwardness, and glittering sensations?
Oh, I feeleth uncivil now-for I should hath been too mad not at the moon;
For taking away thy petty threads, and curdling winds, out of me-too soon.
And for robbing my gusts, and winds, and pale storms of bewitching-yet baffling, affection;
But in fact thrusting me no more, into the realms of death; and t'eir vain alteration.
Ah, thee, so how I couldst once have awaited thee, I never knoweth;
For perhaps I shall be consumed, and consequently greeteth immediate death; within the fatal blushes of tomorrow.
But still-nothing of me shall ever objecteth to t'is tale of blue horror, and chooseth to remain;
And I shall distracteth thee not; and bindeth my path into t'at one of thy feet-all over again.
Once more, I shall be dimmed by my mirthlessness and catastrophes and sorrow;
Yet thankfully I canst becometh glad, for all my due virtues, and philanthropic woes.

I shall be wholly pale, and unspeaking all over me-just like someone dead;
And out of my mouth wouldst emergeth just tears-and perhaps little useless, dusty starlings;
I shall hath no more pools or fits or even filths of healthy blood, nor breath;
I shall remembereth not, the enormous fondness, and overpowering passions; for our future little darlings.
For my love used to be chilly, but warm-like t'ose intuitive layers behind the sky;
But thou insisted on keeping silent and uncharmed-a frightfulness of sight; I never knew why.
Now t'at I hath returned everything-and every single terseness to my heart;
I shall no more wanteth thee to pierce me, and breaketh my gathered pride, and toil, apart.
For I am no more of a loving soul, and my whole fate is bottomless and tragic;
I canst only be a lover for thee, whenst I am endorsed; whenst I feeleth poetic.
I shall drowneth myself deep into the very whinings of my misery;
I shall curseth but then lift myself again-into the airs of my own poetry.
For the airs of whom might only be the sources of love I hath,
For t'is real world of thine, containeth nothing for me but wrath;
Ah, and those skies still screameth towards me, for angering whose ****** foliage;
Whenst t'ose lilies and grapes of my soul are but mercifully asleep on my part.
I wanteth to be mad; but not any careless want now I feeleth-of cherishing such rage;
For I believeth not in ferocity; but forgiveness alone-which rudely shineth on me, but easeth my painful heart.
I hath ceased to believe in my own hand; now furnished with discomfort;
But still I hath to fade away, and thus cut t'is supposedly long story short.
I hath been burned by thee, and flown wistfully into thy Hell;
But so wisheth me all goodness; and that I shall surviveth well.
And just now-at t'is very moment of gloom; I entreateth t'at thou returneth to her, and fasteneth yon adored golden ring;
For it bringst thee gladness, which is to me still sadly too dear, everything.

Ah! Look! Look still-at t'ose streaks of blueness-which are still within my poetry on thee;
But I shall removeth them, and blesseth them with deadness; so that thou shalt once more be young, and free.
For what doth thee want from me-aside from unguarded liberty, and unintimate-yet wondrous, freedom?
For thou might as well never thinketh of me during thy escape;
And forever considereth me but an insipid flying parachute-to thy wide stardom;
Which deserveth not one single stare; as thou journeyeth upon whose dutiful circular shape.
And a maidservant; a wretched ale *****-within thy inglorious kingdom;
Which serveth but soft butter and cakes, to her-thy beloved, as she peacefully completeth her poem.
The poem she shall forceth to buy from me-with a few stones of emerald;
To which I shall sternly refuseth-and on which my hands receiveth t'ose climactic bruises.
For she, in her reproof-shall hit me thereof, a t'ousand times; and a harlot me, she shall calleth;
And storm away within t'at frock of endless purpleness; and a staggering laugh on her cheeks.
And I-I shall be thy anonymous poet, whose phrases thou at times acquireth, at nighttime-but never read;
A bedroom bard, in whose poetry thou shalt not findeth pleasures, and to which thou shalt never sit.
A jolly wish thou shalt never, in thy lifetime, cometh anyhow-to comprehend-nor appreciate;
But should I still continueth my futility; for poetry is my only diligent haven, and mate.
In which I shall never be bound to doubteth, much less hesitateth;
For in poetry t'ere only is brilliance; and embrace in its workings of fate.
And sadly, a servant as I am-on her vanity should I needst to forever wait, and flourish;
To whom my importance, either dire profoundness-is no more t'an a tasty evening dish.
And my presence by thee is perhaps something she cannot relish;
I know not how thou couldst fall for a dame-so disregarded and coquettish!
To whom all the world is but hers; and everything else is thus virtual;
So t'at hypocrisy is accepted, as how glory is thus defined as refusal.
But sometimes I cometh to regret thy befallen line of glory, and untoward destiny;
I shall, like ever, upon which remembrance, desireth to save thee, and bringst thee safely, to eternity.
But even t'is thought of thee shall maketh me twitch with burning disgust;
For I hath gradually lost my affection for thee; either any passion t'at canst tumultously last.
And shall I never giveth myself up to any further fatigue-nor let thy future charms drag me away;
For I hath spent my abundant time on thy poetry-and all t'ose useless nights and days;
As thou shalt regard me not-for my whole cautiousness, nor dear perseverance-and patience;
Thou shalt, like ever, stay exuberant, but thinketh me a profound distress-a wild and furious, impediment.
Thou hath denied me but my most exciting-and courteous nights;
And upon which-I shall announce not; any sighs of willingness-to maketh thee again right;
nor to helpeth thee see, and obediently capture, thy very own eager light.

And when thy idiocy shall bringst thee the most secure-yet most amatory of disgrace, turn to me not;
I hath refused any of thine, and wisheth to, perfunctorily-kisseth thee away from my lot,
I shall writeth no more on thy eloquence-for thou hath not any,
As nothing hath thou shown; nothing but falsehood-hath thou performed, to me.
Thou hath given none of those which is to me but virulent-and vital;
Thou art not eternal like I hath expected-nor thy bitter soul is immortal.
Thou art mortal-and when in thy deft last seconds returneth death;
Thou, in remorse, shalt forever be spurned by thy own deceit, and dizzily-spinning breath,
And after which, there shall indeed be no more seconds of thine-ah, truly no more;
Thou shalt be all gone and ended, just like hath thou once ended mine-one moment before.
All t'at was once unfair shall turneth just, and accordingly, fair;
For God Himself is fair-and only to the honest offereth His chairs;
But the limbs of Heaven shall not be pictured, nor endowed in thee;
To thee shall be opened the gate of fires, as how thou hath impetuously incarnated in me.
No matter how beautiful they might be-still thy bliss shall flawlessly be gone,
Thou shalt be tortured and left to thy own disclosure, and mock discourses-all alone.
For no mortality shall be ensured foreverness-much less undead togetherness;
As how such a tale of thy dull, and perhaps-incomprehensible worldliness.
By t'at time thou shalt hath grown mature, but sadly 'tis all too late;
For thou hath mocked, and chastised away brutally-all the truthful, dearest workings of fate.
And neither shalt thou be able to enjoy-the merriments of even yon most distant poetry;
For unable shalt thou be-to devour any more astonishment; at least those of glory.
And thus the clear songs of my soul shall not be any of thy desired company;
Thy shall liveth and surviveth thy very own abuse; for I shall wisheth not to be with thee;
For as thou said, to life thou, by her being, art the frequented life itself;
Thus thou needst no more soul; nor being bound to another physical self;
And t'is shall be the enjoyment thou hath so indolently, yet factually pursued-in Hell;
I hope thou shalt be safe and free from hunger-and t'at she, after all, shall attendeth to thee well.

And who said t'at joys are forbidden, and adamantly perilous?
For t'ose which are perilous are still the one lamented over earth;
For in t'ose divine delights nothing shall be too stressful, nor by any means-studious;
For virtues are pure, and the walls of our future delights are brighter t'an yon grey hearth;
And be my soul happy, for I hath not been blind; nor hath I misunderstood;
I hath always been useful-by my writing, and my sickened womanhood;
Though I hath never possessed-and perhaps shall never own, any truthful promise, nor marriage bliss;
Still I longeth selfishly to hear stories-of eternal dainty happiness, for the dainty secret peace.
Ah, thee, for after thee-there shall perhaps no being to be written on-in yon garden;
A thought t'at filleth me not with peace, but shaketh my whole entity with a new burden.
Oh, my thee, who hath left me so heartlessly, but the one whom I hath never regarded as my enemy-
The one I hath loved so politely, tenderly, and all the way charmingly.
Ah! Ah! Ah! But why, my love, why didst thou turn t'is pretty love so ugly?
I demandeth not any kind purity, nor any insincere pious beauty,
But couldst thou heareth not t'is heart-which had longed for the one of thine-so subserviently and purely?
For I am certainly the one most passionately-and indeed devotedly-loving thee,
For I am adorable only so long as thou sleepeth, and breatheth, beside me,
For I am admired only by the west winds of thy laugh, and the east winds of thy poetry!
Ah, but why-why hath thou stormed away so mercilessly like t'is;
And leaving me alone to the misery of this world, and my indefinite past tears?
Ah, thee, as how prohibited by the laws of my secret heaven,
Thus I shall painteth thee no more in my poesies, nor any related pattern;
There, in t'is holy dusk's name, shall be spoiled only by the waves of God's upcoming winters,
In the shapes of rain, and its grotesque, ye' tenacious-and horrifying eternal thunders.
And thus t'ese lovesick pains shall be blurred into nothingness-and existeth no more,
But so shall thy image-shall withereth away, and reeketh of death, like never before.
For I shall never be good enough to afford thee any vintage love-not even tragedy,
For in thy minds I am but a piece of disfigured silver; with a heart of unmerited, and immature glory;
Ah, pitiful, pitiful me! For my whole life hath been black and dark with loneliness' solitary ritual,
And so shall it always be-until I catch death about; so grey and white behind t'ose unknown halls.
And shall perhaps no-one, but the earth itself-mourneth over my fading of breath,
They shall cheereth more-upon knowing t'at I am resting eternally now, in the hands of death.
And no more comical beat shall be detected, likewise, within my poet's wise chest;
For everything hath gone to t'eir own abode, to t'eir unbending rest.
But I indeed shall be great-and like an angel, be given a provisionary wing;
By t'is poetry on thee-the last words of mouth I speaketh; the final sonata I singeth.

Thus thou art wicked, wicked, wicked-and shall forever be wicked;
Thou art human, but at heart inhuman-and blessed indeed, with no charming mortal aura;
Thou wert once enriched indeed-by my blood, but thy soul itself is demented;
And halved by its own wronged purity, thou thus art like a villainous persona;
Thou art still charmed but made unseeing, and chiefly-invisible;
Unfortunately thou loathe scrutiny, and any sort of mad poetry;
Knowing not that poetry is forever harmless, and on the whole-irresistible;
And its tiny soul is on its own forgiving, estimable, and irredeemable.
Ah, thee, whose soul hath but such a great appeal;
But inanely strained by thy greed-which is like a harm, but to thee an infallible, faithful devil.
Thou art forever a son of night, yet a corpse of morn;
For darkness thriveth and conquereth thy soul-and not reality;
Just like her heart which is tainted with tantrum, and scorn;
Unsweet in her glory, and thy being-but strangely too strong to resist-to thee.
Ah, and so t'at from my human realms thou dwelleth immorally too far;
As art thou unjust-for t'is imagination of thine hath left nothing, but a wealth of scars;
I used to recklessly idoliseth thee, and findeth in thy impure soul-the purest idyll;
But still thou listened not; and rejected to understandeth not, what I wouldst inside, feel.
After all, though t'ese disclaimers, and against prayers-hath I designated for thee;
On my virtues-shall I still loyally supplicate; t'at thou be forgiven, and be permitted-to yon veritable, eternity.

You stick to my thoughts like an adhesive.
Ever wandering the canvas of my mind.

You travel at the speed of light,
through the nonexistent confines of oblivion.

Foreverness...
Without time, space or action.

The deeper I go,
to hide,
to get lost,
to be alone.

To think a thunking thought!

The closer you seem to be.
The tighter you cling to my chest.
Warming my heart and crushing my lungs.

You squeeze the words from my mouth,
without ever touching me.

The sun looses all essence of light and life when compared to you.

Like an ember among the black atoms of nothingness.

And if you were stripped of all that you are...
I could,
and would,
love you for this alone.

Yet oh how I hate you for it.

Every single madness is in my soul,
and fires like t'ose of a tempestuous sea-
are but raging within me;
scratching and tearing
t'is faith of mine so badly
Behind t'ese livid; and torpid
Dull afternoon airs.
Ah, stupid reasons, please go away-
and stun thy own flimsy day
But leave every one of thy bright promise
about thee;
Oh, just here-yet eternally-
everything t'at is as superb
as t'is often-hated hysterical world.
But only th' ones with humbleness!
And before thou retreat-imbue my soul
with silky greatness once more;
As I shalt salute thy carelessness
No matter what shalt happen
But steal not my love out of me;
let him stay like t'at and sleep by me
Until our tales come and greet
Unmarred evenness
And I; dare to spread my sore heart lazily
Under yon distant umbrella
of our oblivious heavens.

I hath the volition to touch th' stars,
And perhaps dream, dream highly
all over again
Of regaining thy love,
and rolling suspiciously
about and into thy waiting arms,
under our liberated celestial blankets
of clouds and its surfaceless haze.
Which might now and then smirk at us;
But before our ignorance rigidly
retreat away; and vanish pallidly into
its own threads
of prim; but unforgivable vanity.
Ah! I shalt but forever dream again
of all yon awesomeness,
and insist on devouring th' tasteful
Ye' immortal madness of thy princedom.
I imagine thy touches-and t'ose feverish scents
of thy fingers, and lavish hands
Free of boredom, but tainted with wisdom
And being sunk deeply in thy justice
Which insofar as it hath been enabled-
been hovering deafeningly in and about me.
Ah! I shalt be th' first one, and maiden
Who maketh thy irresoluteness decisive,
and turneth thy doubtful precisions
once more submissive!
I shalt become thy torch, and lips,
and guiding star!
I shalt bear thy ******,
and be thy own earthly phantom;
Be with me shalt be thy candlelight;
which is as strong as envious daylight
and by whom I shalt remove thy fright
As far as my dreams go with th' night
And visit and fend for thee
In thy portrait
and thy invigorating dreams.
I shalt be thy surprise;
and be a companion to thy delight
As how I shalt seek
and glory in thy pleasure;
Be lost in thy pride
and feel merciful to be thy treasure
I shalt deprave thy greed of its life
and make to thy grave,
one most beloved, and conspicuous wife.
Ah, thou art too striking!
Thy stunning voice fills me with madness-
and shakes my spines from head to toe,
But kills my sorrow and burns my sadness,
cleanses up my sins and blesses me anew.
Thou befriendeth my pride;
and my atrocious passion;
thou listeneth to my heart
and rinseth tears off its horizon.

Ah! So no wonder now
My madness loses its pride-
Overriding pride, t'at at times
becomes pregnant with such arrogance
So t'at despised it is, even by divine spies
sent down to t'is earth by majestic Lord.
What a delight within me it is to see thee-
and watch another brimful
of thy laughter-ah; thou art as captivating
as a little red-cheeked boy
Who sanguinely greeted me
Down th' farms
With a flow of madly auburn hair,
and smiles as agreeable
as t'at morn's bashful sunny air.
Ah, thou, who art even more adorable
than t'is lurid poem of mine;
stained with th' red colour-as it is,
of my own madness-and a tenacious judgment
of my senses,
T'ese merry dreams of thee are but too vicious
As they make me sweet-unbearably sweet,
in th' entire course
Of yon upcoming flirtatious night;
and tease me most whenst I'm awake
with loving chills so painstakingly crafted
about my face.
O, my lover!
My equanimious, long-sought, and
Sagitarius lover!
Thy naive, but sweet-spirited soul,
is as cheerful and frank;
but troublesome and scanty still
And within one terrific; yet ubiquitous
blink of th' hungered eye
Thou shalt sweep and slay away again;
my rigid; whilst disconcerted, charms.
And so how is at heart I am dreamily-
ye' desperately dedicated to thee;
Though far I am from thee-
as how thou defiantly-from me;
And so never may we sing-or argue in unison;
To utter neither choruses; nor grouped ballads
of marriage;
Dreams are but our sole tower and maze;
And morns all over th' earth, our single haste.

And such! Such a gaze of thine
Is addictive to me like white whine
For 'tis forever my melancholy tyranny;
In my selfish world-full of picturesque indignation
And its dearest remorse
and tranquil superfluity.
Birds t'at never fly;
And lilies t'at might not die-
ah, so after all cautious,
but in every way immortal-like thee;
Snoring and aging in thy deathless foreverness;
In which there art profoundly thou and I-
And I with my repentant dead soul
Unfreed yet of its cherry-like buds
Reeking of fascinated; yet disheartened
Longings; and horrors t'at
Unrevealed love canst soullessly take
Out its mortal mouth and sunless tongue-
From which my dissatisfied spirit
ain't bound ever to jump and awake.

Ah, but after all-all t'is suffering
and disruptive madness,
My corrupted freedom all along
shalt find justice
And whole confidentiality
In thy soul;
So t'at let me feel lethargic on thy shoulder
And rest my dishevelled mind for a while.
Perhaps, thou could let me sing t'at silent song
Whilst our dear God fixes everything
t'at hath gone wrong;
and imaginations and joy
t'at have been thrown away
shalt find every single way back of theirs
Into th' secure cage of love, within our souls.
Ah, and betwixt thy indolence
Shalt I laugh again;
For th' at length victories and images
so startling,
and pictures I am thankful of;
for they were formed so adequately
by thy stupendous name.
Ah, and immortality-yes, so which
shalt always be thy name;
With such frame and glory
trapped so idly within whose frame-
Like an odd; but fruitful summer game;
Within which I shalt ever thrive,
and civilly flourish;
Just like in thy love I shalt grow and live
And to our very last breath, rejoice.

I fret torpidly in my lair;
Your scent is around, but I've seen nobody.
'Tis sordid about me, with rolls of dutiful smoke—
and unleashed winds growling about unseen.
Beside me here stands a perfect mirror, a perfect glass,
But nothing seems imperative, nor talkative, nor patient;
Everything is just silent—what a robust fear—foolish impediment.
Ah, if only can I fast **** this petulant temperament—
do you think I shall feel better, or magnified?
I feel that myself is like a wind:
Thin, fragile, and constantly diving and swelling upwards.
Even my narrative is about to betray me;
Vehemently indeed—should this happen,
I might be able no more to write any poetry—
As my chest above there hysterically bellowed, I shall be pushed upwards—
Upwards, upwards, I am curling upwards—like we all naturally are,
Over the earth, along the oceans, and their sample images of Paradise;
Every single day, at noon, and against this midnight sky.
 
My darling has left, and thus I have but Him in my shabby hands;
With skin marred and scratched and dried by the rude winter;
Ah, say, but who says that winter is clever and polite?
Like my love perhaps is, she is but a relic—or even statue, of blunt disgrace—
She is neither merry nor cordial; she never is aromatic, and flaws us with its brutal haze.
 
I am alone, alone, alone, and totally alone—
O my love, my love, my love, where can I peruse
your felicity just once more?
I have but loved thee all along;
I love thee as magnificently and preciously
as I loved thee one year back and yesterday.
You are my purplish, reddish, greenish, but incompatible moon,
You are comparable still, to the joyous soul of this stained poem;
by whom my love has thrived, by whom I can always replenish.
I shall rise you again within my dreams;
I shall face myself within your sour vapour—but never let you fade.
I shall let you halt my paint, and brush dirt upon it;
I shall let you scatter your grossness over me, and acquire even your sins;
But as long as you are there, over me, I am not scared but keen;
I shall not be mesmerised, nor even heart be broken and pained.
May my heart break, so long as it has its consolation floating by.
 
Ah, and who, beside this breakable moon—can claim my erupt forth;
To comfort my sleep and give solace to my shrieking doors;
And throw unheeded calm into my quiet walkways;
While looking me in the eyes as we step sideways.
Who can ambush my chest along this hairy path;
With a charm far stronger than yon behind the grass;
Who can heal me, and who can heal me not,
Ah, have I but still the courage to make this right?
I shall look for you again amongst the city roars and rumblings;
I shall look for you again in the mornings—and amongst the bleakness of evenings.
 
Look, my love, how the rainbows have a turquoise face today;
So beautifully crafted and charted like the skies of yesterday;
I should fall asleep now, but still—I don't want to be lulled alone without you;
Even though you are faraway, I can still feel your breath and air.
Your absence, as I hope then, shall fast perish;
For I want to grow old not by the countenance of miseries.
I want to be injected into your space now—as maelstroms of sleeps greet me again,
And as the clouds of heaven start to feed on me;
I shall feel light again, and thereby not turn grey;
I shall feel that you have welcomed me back;
I shall feel your breath tingling by the sides of cheeks;
I shall feel my hairs anew—as they raise against the corners of my neck.
 
And there we shall play together against the sky;
Against its pedal who anew blooms in wan suspicion;
Ah, my love, I shall entangle you then—in my varied, and multiplied visions;
I shall tell you the funniest of one thousand lies.
I shall give you only the finest of kisses, and jokes;
I shall startle you by my poem and my beautiful black locks.
Ah, thee, to you whom I have written this poem, and shall always do;
To you whom I have loved, and have to this day admired;
To you for whom a forest of grace and salutations has been dreamed;
To you for whom my heartbeat grows, and fastens and slows,
To you for whom I woke up today, and open my eyes tomorrow;
 
To you whom I have loved in the name of Him;
To you for whom I lit the glitters of the sky;
To you for whom my heart was startled and passed justly by;
To you for whom my palms sweated and eyes started to cry;
 
To you for whom griefs disperse into brighter saturations;
To you for whom life continues, and gives birth to more immediate sparkles;
To you for whom I have celebrated my soul; and made one true promise;
To you by whom I have halved my heart, and without whom shall never 'come the same anew;
 
To you for whom all favours are spelled, and words dedicated;
To you for whose grins I shall wait again forever;
To you whose eyes are darker than the midnight river;
To you by whom my belief shall stay strong, and consciously devoted;
 
Ah, you, my love, so this remorse shall fall over me and back again,
With creases I curse, and remarks that my ruined chest censures;
Abhorred by the moon, and its very own celestial abode—
Which shakes and stretches along the crimson universe,
I have thrown my life into your horizontal, and longitudinal spectrums—
In both superficial and artificial ways, you have haunted me.
Ah, but still—cannot I erase your name from the fruit of every essentiality;
You are the sweet tyranny of my soul, and the leaves of my very gay sensibility;
You are the throne of my love; you are the specified satire—
though but funny and not—you are my destiny.
 
Like a vinyl birch tree that howls when stabbed, I have become your prey;
I shall wait for you at dawn and give my whole self to you at dusk.
I shall wait for you to claim my destined—and prescribed heart;
I shall wait for you to finish your abominable task,
As long as you can emerge for me—and listen to my poems and follow what I say.
 
And like a scar that stays for long in one's fair skin;
You are stubborn though things not go well;
Ah, let's now confess that your heart needs me;
But still—you are too proud, and far too docile, to admit your sin.
The question now is: how should we ever eradicate love?
Love is a prison, I know, and it is the most unforgiving jail;
It is merciless and painted by colours of abomination;
And nothing in it is plentiful—like Him in the shivering sky;
It is where tears crowd and gather—as I have perused;
It is where insolence and crudeness unite—even when not provoked.
 
Ah, my love, but have I fallen into this snare of love—whether or not I want it;
And your gaze is still the sole sweetness I hope to meet;
Never is my love sweeter—or petite, than a grain of wheat;
You are the foreverness for whom I shall sweat;
 
And in the loss of you lies my venomous assassination;
And I am wary now—and afraid of facing this everlasting trepidation;
Your shadows shall never go away, and for this I can be wronged;
For when I am dying—shall my mouth be falling asleep and recite your song.
 
My art has torn; it has been filthily murdered.
Its fervour was lost in, as you saw, just one wave of scenic mortality—
But still, the true essence might still be there, as it was once fertilised—
As by you, my Imagist, my Wilde, I was terrifically astonished by you.
You are my painting, my picture, and even the shared portrait of my self.
You share my veins, as how I supposedly hold some share of your blood.
Ah, and I remember now, how your warm blood did once touch my wrists—
So engagingly, so thrillingly, so brilliantly.
My heart, my head, my mind—all were brutally consumed by thee.
 
I want to die by thee, but you pierced my heart—
and in brief, made my spine grow dead tears;
Everything grew worse and I was manifested into your bitter triangle;
I was your lonesome moon who got forgotten soon;
Ah, it seems that yon French lady is better than I am—
With her curly hair and tittering oceanic eyes,
She was the filter of your noons, the storms
And devilish desires of your nights.
She was as gusty and spooky as the windblown thorn;
poisonous were her words, but still, you carried yourself to her.
I fretted and screamed and my blood gurgled—
but I guess I was fortunate still;
for I had the chance to keep myself pure and chaste
while you unstoppably sinned and defiled yourself.
So you were disgraced.
 
And you were enduringly consumed by your own fires;
The fires to which you confined yourself;
Not the calming, sooting, leafy bonfires we use in winter;
but ones you will also greet in the earth after.
Ah, thee, I felt but disgust towards your molested heart and deeds;
You grew for yourself, instead good ones—sick, avoidable seeds.
At that time, I swore to never ever share any more of my blood with you;
I would looked for one more honest, playful; one decorated with more virtues.
 
But still—as I said before,
I have again decided to sit and pray for you.
While my love for the other is not true;
It has faded and you are irreplaceable still;
You are congested, invalid, and not new;
But should you come back again to me;
I shall receive you with open hands
And one seal of heartfelt goodwill.
Ah, my love, look at the smiling heavens above—
As night deepens and snowfalls come low,
I shall think and think again about our postponed love—
Which, perhaps—though happens not amongst the jumble of this juvenile night,
Shall come again when dusk is cleared, and the first bud of spring leaps into sight.

In all the lives we've met and in all of them we fall in love
this kismet adoration has created a knot in time
no matter the bodies our souls inhabit
we will find one another and love
and love
and love
and love eachother every time we meet
the era we're in or the life we live will not matter
we will find one another like a recurring dream
happening every time our bodies seek rest
every time our minds seek peace
for every instance we are apart
our incessant hearts will cry
cry so loudly each time we lose one another
their cries will continue on until heaven hears this echo of foreverness and does this feeling justice
allowing for us to love freely and to love whole heartedly and to love
and love
and love
and love to the point where time becomes insignificant
because the seconds no longer look forward to being witness to the hours
they will beg to become witness to our love
and love
and love
and love everlasting

The universe is screaming at me
into my ears, brain, and heart
the whiteness
the brightness
tears in my eyes
it has attacked me like the plague
that has no cure
bringing me higher and higher
into the enlightenment
that is my reward
You are part of the glory
the karma, the foreverness of my
soul
beside me, behind me,
in fron of me,
within me,
are me
crying and laughing
like a madwoman some would say
but
I know, you know, and the universe knows
that I have heard the screams
and know what they mean
as we turn to light
and embrace
what was meant to be
in the name of
eternity

Hi,
My name is--

Nothing.
Never mind.
I forgot that I don't have one.
You can't know me.

You don't know me....

At least that's what you told them...

You could never just admit it.
You would never just tell them.
You should have went out shouted it out,
Loud enough for the whole world to here you.
But I only ask of this because you were so ashamed of me.

I love you...
And you know this
Because you know you loved me...

Cause we were together

Yeah.
We were a thing
I couldn't have just imagined it
We spent 4 months together

Cuddled up in the back of your mom's car
Laughing at my jokes
And spilling drinks
Arms around each other
Lips locked together.....

But now you say that you don't know me??

Every.
Single.
One.
Of my deepest darkest secrets has been invested into your very soul.
****** into your hands for you to hold onto.

And in return I had gotten trustful looks of lies.

And now every time you look at me...
You turn the other way and laugh

Because you know I'm a freak.
You know what's wrong with me!
You know everything!

But you still say that you don't know me...
But you know you do.
You know you loved me!

And I know that I loved you....
And I know that you know you loved me too

So I am just waiting.

Waiting on the day you will tell the world

That you loved me.

All I wanted you to do is not deny this.

Deny that there was an us.

That you know that our laughs
And our smiles
And our times together
That our everlasting foreverness
Was not made up
It was true
We were real

And you loved every bit of it....
Including me.

Hey,
It's me.
And Baby...
I'm still waiting.












© 2013 Kendra Bowman

Sometimes I was the one responsible for your tears
Sometimes you were responsible for my tears
Sometimes I was the blame for the pain you suffered
Sometimes you were the blame for the love that was never discovered
I wish you were the one losing sleep over the love you lost
I wish you were the one losing focus to what was more than a thought
I’m the one who’s supposed to cry, I’m the one who’s supposed to be broken
You wanted Foreverness, I gave you eternality
Tried building us up but you pulled us down like gravity
You’re bringing up mistakes I made to tarnish what we established
Trying to perfect a game plan that was never practiced
We put each other in this space to which we don’t wanna be
I was hoping to marry your love but you didn’t see a future with me
From blowing each other up to missed calls & unread texts
Pushing you away due to a broken heart that I’m trying to protect
You didn’t trust someone like me, I was too good to be true
I’m watching you walk away while falling deeper in love with you
I wish you could believe me when I say crying isn’t easy to do
Especially when the tears I shed are because of you

Thou art not the one I want to write about;
but it appears that I have no brighter choice.
The only one that seems to bear no fault;
and lives a life full of merriment and bliss.

And thy, thy name! So delicate as a summer laughter
With hands so imbued with clarity and brave power.
I believe thou art such an ingenious lover;
but frail as thou hath always been; weak and fragile
under thy harmonious cover.

And shall I be treading these paths, tomorrow noon;
whenst I'll come across a dainty flower by the lagoon.
Amongst those ripe cherries-there is one too like thee,
so mysterious and sometimes gazes awkwardly at me.

Thy young bud is that of rose and berry,
a symbol of thy soul so embraced by words and poetry.
Ah! And so deserving it is of graceful flattery;
as thou move along these paths, thy young heart shines
and gleams afar-just like the dribbling snow,
how childish, yet altogether refined and free.

Thy stare-o, thy stare, querida, is deep and anxiously unbending;
like those gracious arts and their prudential stone carving
or pools with swarms of red starfish so enchanting
as my little boat swims along feverishly, unnoticing.

And ah! Unaging as thou always art,
growth is but futile to thy slippery soul
With this world thou shalt never part,
and foreverness becomes thy frost-like hall.

Youthness of thine that shall never fade,
and handsome face that shall never wane.
O, how thy delicacy is to me like that cruel fate-
o my dearest, humble immortal man!

Timelessness shall then become our lasting key;
to a love sweeter and even more precious than destiny.
And live, live in utter happiness shall forever we,
as long as these muscles can breath, and as far as
these eyes can see.

Zoom in. See your heart at its
Most spectacular through an
Electron microscope.

I've come to embrace our
Lack of foreverness, yet
Witness it through

Our faint touches hidden
Behind backs while passing.
No, there is nothing divine

Here. No shade of an angel's
Wing over our hearts as they
Stroke each other fleetingly,

Just two pieces of mud in a
World of dirt and
Water.

A broken man in a complete
Galaxy; I carry my pieces with  
My back straight.

This scarred heart is weak, but
My arms are well trained from
Taking its loads.

I'll carry yours when you need
Me to. Zoom out. See our joined
Hearts through a telescope.

Milky Way doorways.
The magical kissing of a neck
Across a threshold.

The sounds of hand claps
a whistle leaving the lips
a shout of recognition
the silence forever breached.

dissonant is what it was.

that foreverness of din.
criminal—
  aloft, eluding some captive way
    of emphasis.

  scraps of papers fold
and truth is rarefied. hammered
for its malleability is its common trait.

truth and always its never ever.
the men mumble words as if
  oceans whirl in their palates.
the women hide their thighs
  and think of fornications.
the children learn to pilfer
      stray coins in the keep.

dissonance is what it still is.

there's a slow moon over the aubade
     over the culled garden.
     over the cloverleaf curve
    in Balintawak. over no trove of truce.
  caterwauling noises flailing
      belch of automaton metal. mendaciloquent glower of lampposts
    to die early, abandoning EDSA—
we cannot name figures any longer
    of the same axiom, equation,
    salt, crossovers.

A Hazy serenity-
The dreams I have tonight,
only happen here

Windows opened frost my skin over but I don’t close off the chilled night. Sleep takes me to the beginnings and ends of subconscious, visions cause a heart warming as I see you in new lights – the natural makeup of your sighs. Billowing breathes and summer sweats dews my eyes from the beauty of this faulted perfection- here in this unreal land together - the sun always shines. A green feathered eminence our toes choose to curl on- we touch love’s fingerprints - newfound appreciation.  Smiling winds entwine locks of our hair creating in and of itself togetherness - foreverness. Sun's breath caresses our necks. Distant rivers heard from the soul, this is where life is born – jumping in we transform - the earth changes with us, suddenly the hidden resonance of the world is heard. Our ears finally brought to play.

A secluded epiphany-
Limbs wrap around each other
creating joyful fear

Pristine splendors – the melodies of nature, we apprehensively tip toe, troubled to not pollute the quiet waters and unspoiled skies.  We are chased by the unity of ocean and the heavens – summer beckons with cerulean and golden hands – acceptance. Tempting waves say stay, a pleading atmosphere, the grinning breeze gestures – welcoming arms. Those neurotic pieces of our psyche find peace here. Stepping along, beside winding creeks, hand in hand following the trees’ leaves, rising and falling plains calls attentions -  awakening intentions, roses kiss our senses and we waltz on the currents’ magic.  Trembling vines crawl up our fitted sides – tattooing us with the weathers’ delight. No turbulence or cries. The ground swallows me, swallows you- puzzle souls brought together- we are one.

I wake breathless
Glistening tears falling from eyes,
Watching dreams disappear

Wronged figures encircle the world. Saturn's
rings of martyrdom expectant beseech
God, The pain we suffered in your Name, return
it from beyond our graves. With vengeance teach
our torment to those who made us suffer!
Impale their bodies on bolts of thunder,
Black bones and roasted flesh, they are but slurs
against Holiness. Tear them asunder!
And for us, the white robes of salvation,
And words of eternal comfort: Patience
and faith in the Lord of all creation,
whose rewards in Heaven will be immense.
All the hurt you have borne shall be lifted,
Through Him, foreverness is gifted.

I love you
Do you know that…
Cause you should.
I love you like a pen knife loves wood.
I love you like the moon loves the tide.
You are hemmed inside
Like the silk lining of a finely tailored coat.
You float my boat;
The bridge to my moat.
I could rhyme of you until
Dead poets fell from the sky
I don’t know why
I feel this way
Lets just say
That some things are meant to be
And that I see
In us
A million days,
A Thousand ways
A spring dusk haze
Of Beauty in Love
And Happiness in
Togetherness
Foreverness.
You n Me
Sailing a passionate sea
In a boat built for two.
I love you.

I will smelting the scentest sweet
Smelt it over an 'I forgot' times
Smells the morningest freshness
Will smell petrified joy always.

I will stareding at the simplest complexity
My eyes saw the warmest merry
Seeing night sky spill over sight
Will stare at plainest intricacy.

I felting a sugar glaze
Felt it coat my moonest blue
Feeling his sugary hands
Had warmth so will feel it melt..

Will felting foreverness sticky.

for you, dearest, ever so shyly
i, (almost always) silently, sloshing (pertinently), will be like water
falling and falling repeatedly,
(like falls from felled rocks,
  this foreverness of the dive)
rinsing and rinsing multipliedly,
(like rain tainting the already
  stained glass in Barasoain)
freely, wanly, (like my hand
  seeping through the aqueduct
   of your body or
  traversing the source of this stream)

but there is a brightness unmoving,
   high rise of heat,
  like water
     i have dried out.

Lets try to implode.
What sort of thing spikes your imagination?
Is it love?
Is it music?
Lovely music perhaps?
Drip the words from your lips,
Let them soak in the world around you.
You are here to hear the voices,
The voices in your head that are telling you,
Telling you its going to be okay.
Simplicity is beauty,
Beauty is all around you.
There isn't a day where you aren't in control,
Control of your conscience,
Your beautiful conscience.
Stare into the thousands,
They feel your every breathe.
Give them life,
Give them an opportunity,
An opportunity to react,
In ways they never thought possible.
A reaction of ingenious pleasure,
Dethroning the darkness,
Making a new,
A new imagination.
Pour out your foreverness
and let them have a lasting impression.
Be.

The incessant need for togetherness,
More alone than a single blade grass,
Relationships that need foreverness,
As fused as are the grains of sand in glass.

Relentlessly seeking love through giving,
From an abyss of generosity,
To connect with loving souls is living,
With such self-proclaimed virtuosity.

To be close is just to make someone feel,
To give just to elicit emotion.
And love returned for giving is the deal
Like a returning pendulum’s motion.

This instinct brings innocents elation.
Why does it reek of manipulation?

I ponder amongst the wonderfulness of your mind as I try to focus deep into your eyes, I hope I'm surprised by the thought of you thinking about myself, stop squinting please? Let me see the gleam, a little wider so that I can see the dream. As I look down year 2-3 from now. I see you and me, wait don't even blink, without interruptions there's nothing that can destruct us. As you lay down with me pressed on top of you, joyous tears fall to your ears. I see my assuring reflection, smile for awhile, while I swipe at the two tracks of wetness. You tell me that you adore my cleverness, I tell you that when I gaze through your frames I see the foreverness

Snatched from my life.
He is gone so quickly.
I am not ready. Are you ever ready to lose one so dear?

Now all is black, black and cold and silent.
There I cringe.
Shrunken, at the bottom of a deep, black, cold and silent well.
So deep not a spark of light can reach me.
There is not a glimmer of hope to shine in and give me life again.

There I sit, curled with my arms wrapped about my knees holding them as close as I can.
Squeezing them in tight, the only thing to now fill the void in my arms where he once cradled.
Head deeply bent. There is no reason to raise my eyes.
I know he will not be there.
There is nothing there.
A huge empty black foreverness is all that surrounds me.

Each breath, each moment, each day I am a little smaller.
The pain of a broken heart is unbearable, the blackness ***** the life from me.
I cannot live like this and finally, after a time there is a small spark.
I see the words form in my mind. "I cannot live like this." And I realize I do not want to die.

So I fight. I struggle. I try to move.
I push the cold walls of the well back slightly.
Just the tiniest bit lets a small glimmer of light shine in.
That is all it takes to let me see there is another way.
This desperation and despair is not for me. I cannot die this way. I am not ready to give up my life.
It is not my time. I cannot give up, not yet. My will to live is all that can save me now.

I stretch my hand up and find a crevice in the stone to make a start,
A start of a long journey back to life, one step at a time.
I climb, little by little, up to the light that shines above.
Above this hole in the ground, above this death, above this hell.

The black stone walls now show streaks of gray and white, very little white but some white.
The air warms, is lighter, smells sweeter. It is easier to breathe.
The dampness lessens as I inch my way to the surface.
The farther I crawl upward the bigger the circle of light becomes,
The brighter the sunlight,
The warmer I feel.
At some point, I cannot pinpoint when, I know I will live.
I will struggle but I will live.

darling i have meat stuck in my teeth
             i have not a wreathe on my dome
             i have a long measure of water
             rammed in my throat, hemmed in like
             your body’s canopy in the stream of me
             i chase the silence like a tractable beast
             in this hollow den of nothing
                                                         darling
i have not hands but chains
      i have volcanoes and not moons
         i see past the banners,   an army of   light
       unfastening itself  from  the poles of foreverness
     I have in my eyes   again the frail azure
            and the gyration of clouds mangling themselves
         to    figures,   assumptions,    colloid
          endless   snow,     frayed beings moseying towards
                     rows     of   lengths and   the autumnal abode  of  hills
   turning     green,    brimming with    the ***   of pastures,

      feasting in this fill of such   heaviness,   a name    of what I cannot   recall
         darling   the yellowbell       darling   the lignified    amaranth
               darling      here   at   such   meeting    I    am  starved
         with    little    movements     of   flesh

Come like so, turn thee tender to warmth and tears to vintage
Bare view to rare views
But evidently there lies one view, a point center’d in reason
Fearing more distant terrors, becoming more of the frightened
Today we may fear the snake, tomorrow the lord, next, foreverness
As part we are of courses in the obstacles of affinity
I see truly, the sun
Truly, my beloved
Truly, the matters of wound’d time
Truly, the ultra-touch
Truly, the hyperlove
Come like so I say, as thou art comely and manner’d
I too shall come like so to match thy beauty and elegance
I too shall come, truly...with warts and perfections

people confusing love
with want
   or need
or a hunger seeking to be fulfilled
  by anyone available
just fill the void
i'll worry about the rest later
doesn't matter if we don't fit
you're here now
that's all that's important
   to me
come on now
let's give this a whirl
you say you love me
i'll profess the same
people around us will smile
and clasp their hands
     'finally'
she has found love
and all will be good

mom will cry happy tears
dad will say, with a thump on your back
   'that's my boy'
friends with partners will include us in game night
   gals won't feel threatened
      guys won't have to hide a peak
and we can skip into foreverness
over the rainbow
tossing daisies as we go
to live happily ever after
in this manmade fairy tale.

Tethered by each breath
Can feel you move an inch
Lost in togetherness

Cold water to the moment
It stops the gears from turning
Your touch is longing

Is that the dawn coming ?
In my heart of hearts
I feel you, I am succumbing

To loves gentle touch
One of tenderness
Of compassion
And gracefulness

It is you, my only love
The one I give my breath
My heart and soulfulness

Pretty girl  you are
The most amazing gift
I will treasure and protect
Each part of us in foreverness

A foreverness,
a looking glass that looks into endlessness
full of emptiness,
unhappiness
and a corner, chipped, that spreads the
image resigned to
hopelessness.

I have an empathy with these things that
look but do not see, these minutes fixed to
an eternity,
if I am free, If I unwind,
if I ever find the unknown or
am shown the question,
the answer will follow.

The Hidden thought

It is said our unconscious fear of death
pushes us forward to achieve something before
the great Nothing descends,  
for writers this is prescient they struggle to leave
behind words on paper, and not erased
as leaves on trees when the cold wind blows.  
Others skydive from mountaintop cheating
the reaper, yet hope to live long enough to tell
their story of daring do.
Architects fear death too, that's why they built
the tall skyscrapers that will stand the test of time
and celebrate their foreverness.
The chef in his kitchen thinks of death when he
prepares a meal a signature dish where his name
will appear in cookbooks.
As it is unconscious, most people are not troubled only
when waking up at four in the morn before
birds sing and you can taste the stillness of death.

Was Wordsworth worth his words
When first I read the Ode To Immortality,
Heard from his inner being?
I, whose custom is to call a ***** a *****,
Dare say the word ‘mortality’
For it is death I sense, come closer daily.
Yet we have a bond, Wordsworth and I,
For hopeful of a kernel die
That cannot die,
But timeless, never was
And is always,
I wish to look on heart that’s inner,
Atoms of the saint and sinner
Coming back re-formed and re-acquiring
Shape and name:
A game of soul rebirth eternal,
Hints of strange foreverness –
Its paradox forever mortal,
Yet immortal.

I find myself awake in the endless now
Closer to the immediate time of midnight
That stretches in the echoing tick of a second
The true forever of the present

In the gaping maw of an endless moment marching forward
I can't help but wonder how its that we wake into the comprehension that the future is an imaginary concept that is never truly reached.
When between two seconds I have felt the breadth of an eternity
Breathing its hot and uncomfortable decomposition onto my being
Aging,
Tallying away the moments until I am but ash on the pavement

That our only perception of reality can happen in the foreverness of a moment that becomes wistful of itself like some elder trying to relive the fleeting feeling of youth
That the past is only a recollection of the now in its nostalgic bubble
Painted like some old time movie in the cobwebbed section of the brain, that forgets important information
Like where the keys are and instead keeps the bitter burn of being in love for the first time.
The last time.

Its these lanquid seemingly shallow thoughts that keep me from dropping into the blissful chaos of REM
Falling off the face of reality and into the black nothing
My brain digs into conceptual conundrums, when really all I want to do is sleep..

Dirt caked under my fingernails
my fingers working
scooping at the soil
I can feel the soul of it
hear the wind whispering
there is nothing that could keep me from this
my fingers grip at rocks
and toss them over my shoulder
into the pile of earth I have moved
I find wriggling worms
and move them too,
only gentler.
And once this hole-
this pit I have dug is big enough
to hold all of me
I step inside, my bare feet
touch the cool, wet dirt
and then I begin to close it
pull the sediment around me
cover my body in it
flatted it down until one arm is trapped
then make a spot for the other
and let it sink too.
I wish the soil would liquify
and I could just fall into
the foreverness
let my soul rest a bit
under the surface
even without this I close my eyes,
let my eyelids relieve their burning
the stars have always flashed in them
and they gutter out-
leaving everything darker than before
I have always thought that
darkness was alive
I can feel it breathing
moving towards me
I tilt my head back,
only my shoulders and up are free
eyes ******* shut
I know I could never hope to escape this
my only chance is to make it a home
become comfortable in it
never let anyone take this from me
in the dirt you can taste everything
the Sea has been a liar
since the start of eternity
its calamity was never a siren song for me
but I know what it's like
to have a being such as her sing
right in my ear
I hear the Earth's melody
and can't help but listen.
The wind weaves through the canopy
I feel my hair tickling my face
an itch I can't scratch
a wound I'm not allowed to pick.
Even boulders bear scars
even trees need a reprieve from the sunlight
but only humans could ever
dig their own grave
and willingly rest in it.

how tempting
to walk towards
infinite light
nameless fear
a sacrifice
one holds dear
a terminal blight
fragile blinding
foreverness
underlying
breathlessness
life's exempting
recommence
never ending
never less