"hollowed" poems
The water hollowed the stone,
the wind dispersed the water,
the stone stopped the wind.
Water and wind and stone.
The wind sculpted the stone,
the stone is a cup of water,
The water runs off and is wind.
Stone and wind and water.
The wind sings in its turnings,
the water murmurs as it goes,
the motionless stone is quiet.
Wind and water and stone.
One is the other and is neither:
among their empty names
they pass and disappear,
water and stone and wind.
29.4k
"Poor Yorick!",
His soul is saved.
Safe and sound,
In cold unbeing.
Cold unbeing,
For whom I am so hungry.
It's bitter tundra will fill me,
But my fire won't go out.
The burning won't stop,
And my ashes only gather.
There's something very wrong,
With a blistering winter.
Oh Yorick,
I envy.
Your sleep is undisturbed;
Where I am only tired.
You are bones,
And King Hamlet is a ghost.
Floating like him and stagnant as you,
I cannot rest.
My sleep is disturbed.
Like the king, I can't find peace.
But like Yorick,
I am hollowed bones.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC
With bamboo husks scattered,
My last bones shattered.
We mourn a loss of bliss,
Draped in fear learnt to dismiss,
I call for all to gather.
The stalks once in my heart,
Intertwined; and broke apart.
I never knew how weak I'd gotten,
As my glacial mind defrosted,
And from within; resilience departed.
My thoughts cannot grow,
Pierced by what I do not know.
I'm getting colder,
I am not a soldier,
I'm a victim to the blow.
As the last bit of me was hollowed out,
I spoke the words of hope through my mouth:
"I will learn to accept the pain,
Rather than soaking it in my veins,
I'll filter it to the ground."
--------------------------------------
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
Moonlit sadness
Silhouetted madness
Hollowed out bones
Marrow on the floor
Blood soaked sheets
Rotted flesh beneath
Shaking fingers
Guilty hands
Breathless lungs
Skies crowded with bodies hung
*How can any of us breathe
beneath this sky of subliminal madness?*
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
I’ve died
I’ve felt the brunt of dis-ease like a disease
The final straw that has broken my heart
Drove a stake through instead
Why now?
The leftover time I’ve been allowed
Is filled with hollowed out emptiness
The screams of pain when there is no one to answer me
Bursts my life at the seams
I have died
I’m gone for sure this time
I cannot even fill the time I have in between
Because I am numb
Dead inside
Without that genuine human touch with no hurtful motive
I’ve gone and died
Withered blossoms of socialization should have fought hard
Hardly fought instead
The weak politeness crept out
I have died
With no thought for the future
I’ve cut my past off to live in the blankness of the present
Don’t fret
I never really lived anyway.
cc111911
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 11:57 PM UTC
Since the day we met, I am struck and stung
From that day, my inside is singing this song
All I want to do is see you and hold you
I want to tell you, I think I love you
When you come near my sight
My senses pop out and I lose my mind
I want to hold your hand and make you smile
I want to talk with you and walk a million mile
When you look at me and you touch me, I get butterflies
Your words fill the empty space where my heart lies
This heart has been crushed and cut with knife
Your voice, so sweet to me, bring it back to life
I was smashed; my feelings were burned down to ashes
Frustration gulped me and I got serious depression cases
I was lost for very long hours of years
Scared, taunted and hollowed with fears
Now I can see the spark in your eyes
I have fallen for you, and it’s no lies
My blur life has changed to a beautiful bokeh
I want to confess I love you......................
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
The chocolate digestive is a marvel of invention
Custard creams are sickly, but worthy of a mention
Shortbread can be gritty, steer clear of the cheap ones
For if you love your biscuits, your pockets must be deep ones
For perfect dunkability, the hobnob leads the field
But prone to going chewy if their packet isn't sealed
Bourbon creams can satisfy when nothing else is offered
Avert your eyes from pretzels, no matter how they're proffered
The lowly Garibaldi is an underrated treasure
A macaroon is excellent for eating at your leisure
Enjoy the home made cookies and the chocolate crispy nests
And save a pack of party rings for fobbing off on guests
But biscuits can be functional, with keen survival craft
A packet of pink wafers can be used to make a raft
Penguins can be hollowed out and used to smuggle crack
And if you throw a ginger nut, you'll always get it back
A Jaffa cake is handy as a snowboard for a spider
And flapjacks are a sustenance and energy provider
Wagon wheels are lethal when they're wielded by a ninja
Brandy snaps cure cancer with a tiny hint of ginger
Experiment with biscuits, they're a versatile thing
Try horizontal dunking or the highland shortbread fling
Keep a packet stashed away for when the end is nigh
And always have the kettle full, and milk in good supply
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Not the unhappy everyone talks about.
Not just the lonely unhappy.
Not just the unaccomplished/unmotivated unhappy.
Not just the loveless unhappy.
Not just the careless unhappy.
Not just the “let down” unhappy.
I wish there was a way to better exert the meaning of what I’m feeling.
It’s the unhappy that makes me ***** before each occasion.
It’s the unhappy that makes me want to sink into the walls.
I want to break glass, break bone, break the unbreakable.
I want to rip and scratch.
Skin, lips, paper.
It’s like a downward spin that sometimes leaves me pleased…
and other times incredibly hollowed.
There aren’t any solid memories that explain why I’ve gotten so sad.
I do remember when it started though, or at least when I was old enough to understand it was not a good feeling.
Five.
Five years old.
Sitting alone in the heater room where my “tea table” was set up.
Tweety bird tea set.
I remember thinking about grown-ups and all that they do.
I remember not wanting to be a child anymore.
I’d get mad when someone interrupted my thoughts.
That was the first time I remember being depressed.
I’ve been depressed since,
but depression is a very small part of unhappiness…
or whatever it is that’s been sloshing around in my gut since age five.
All I know is that it escalates.
It always has and now I’m very afraid that it always will.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
i knew from the first time i saw you,
tamed by the crimson eyes and its hue.
amidst the cold stare you have given,
cunningly, i see the emotions hidden.
heaven has its own way of showing,
i believe it just by seeing.
unbeknownst under those cold-blooded eyes,
cunningly, i see the emotions rise.
haunting me from the depth within,
igniting the curiosity that is seething.
hollowed, i tried reaching you,
and still, you grabbed me out of the blue.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 10:52 PM UTC
come to me
like nocturnes creeping
and wake me with sweet kisses
like a tongue of sapphire ash
and sharp teeth to drink
from hollowed throat willing
and we shall love,
and love,
and love
like melting candles blessed
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
My sisters and I jest
That men never get over us.
We have been named
Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe
But we are les belles dames avec merci
And that is their undoing.
Our breath has left them gasping
With unfilled lungs
We never meant to be their oxygen
But they drink us in like drowning men.
We didn’t ask for this,
But disarming, we are soft enough
For them to float in
Belly up, eyes to distant stars
Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins.
Behind our teeth rests the love
The world has failed to give them till now
There are holds in the knowledge
that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces,
mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out,
And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding.
We never asked for this,
They cherish the brittle changelings of us
until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes
Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos.
Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair
they are scattered, undone.
The distance drifts between, inevitable
And full they turn away to starve
We cut the mooring line
After one too many storms,
And search
For safer
Harbor.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
I was raised in the wild
With all the defiled
So my mood was mild
While bodies were piled
I was a lonely coyote
The other creatures didn't know me
Because I slinked in the shade
To avoid their detection
Loneliness is what I had to trade
To pass their inspection
Other animals couldn't brave the weather
Or their fragile arteries were severed
They laid there dead
I wondered if they ever lived
It went to my head
What this world can give
I saw the buzzards
Ring their buzzers
Then the maggots fed on their brain
While not understanding their pain
These images did me no good
While I was stuck in the woods
And I couldn't see the forest through the trees
I was lost
If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze
In the frost
I tried to find a home in hollowed trees
But I was chased out by a bunch of bees
And the darkened caves
Seemed like shallow graves
When that's where bats play
But peaceful open meadows
Left me susceptible to attack
Everything seemed mellow
So I had to watch my back
Winter was approaching
And I saw no solutions
The cold air encroaching
Like frigid pollution
But my shady luck shifted
Once I was graciously gifted
A powerful and majestic horse
That put me on a better course
I ride the steed with a leather saddle
Made of skin stripped off simple cattle
It took the strength of an ox
To hold down this fox
Yet my domestication
Calls for celebration
Because now I live in a house
Without having to hide like a mouse
I can strut like a peacock
With a bird of my flock
It's a form of animal husbandry
Because you're in love with me
I'm the insistent critter
From a different litter
That saw life wither
From damage inner
I was a raccoon digging through the trash
Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash
You're an agricultural guy
So vultures circle the sky
Looking to harvest your bountiful crop
They must smell death underneath it
Their presence makes my heart drop
And all I want to do is defeat it
But even as they get near
You remain here
We stand together as scarecrows
In a defensively unified paired row
This is the delightful day
You end all my wild ways
And eliminate my suffering
With your animal husbandry
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
It's been years
but I still remember our days
and I still cry tears.
I remember the day the earth stopped spinning.
Your footsteps are still imprinted
on my doorstep
and your last words are a broken record
repeating in my head.
Oh, it's been years
but I still smell you
in the emptiness next to
me in bed.
I loved you more than myself
and now I'm left hollowed out
You were the one who promised me .
You gave me a ring and your word.
Oh, sweetheart can't you
see what you've done to me?
You loved me to death
and then went and left.
Walked away like it was the easiest thing.
Well, my heart has had enough pain
to last the rest of my days.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
Zeus, your predilection for banishing Titans to Hades...
anathema of them--revolt was theirs of you...Titanomachy.
Enter Prometheus, second generational Titan, brother
to Atlas--Prometheus of whom Titan revolt at first ran
no fire through his veins.
Thus, Zeus was well pleased and employed Prometheus
to put earth to water, water to earth...as to yield man.
As so man was, and was unto Prometheus...a fondness
entered him of them.
And in of passion Prometheus' veins were run through
with fire...fire fought fire--thus Prometheus reached out
taking hold Zeus' lightning.
Hid in a hollowed fennel stalk, to be bequeathed unto man.
Torrents of fire now ran Prometheus' veins, and in a fit of
infamous mockery presented Zeus with two packets of
slaughtered animal parts.
A hubris was born in Prometheus that being so halved
God-man gave itself fully to that polarity...he gawked at
Zeus and bade him choose between the two packets.
One of ox meat and innards coated in stomach lining, the
other of ox-bones coated in its own abundant fat.
Thus Zeus chose, the wretched lesser of the two...
inconsumable ox-bones coated by fat.
A charged and terrible air cut and heavied all direction,
pointing assuredly that Zeus was one given over to the
surface of things, a psychological casualty of his own
vanity.
Zeus overcome with Prometheus' disaffection for the God
of him struck at Prometheus' family.
At length, this assault could not, would not put asunder
Prometheus from the ground he stood.
A certain Haphaestus was summoned by Zeus...whose
directive was writ in torment.
Chain Prometheus to Mount Caucasus...where from on
high a sackcloth cloud shall shake loose an eagle, whose
homing hunger shall have only a taste for Prometheus' liver.
Day in, and day out, that accursed ***** shall be the
bounty of itself!
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
I love you
dow
w
n
to your jagged,
dark edges
culling smoke
and twisting tides
your steaming heart
that pulses, in my hands
as you give it-
and the pungent tears
when they fall
from your eyes
I lick up your pain
to soothe it smooth
its rawness catching
velvet ripples of skin
I pull a blanket
of mahogany wine
over your soul
lacerations
that seep out
from the layers within
and in that tender of
nightfall's darkest foliage
I long to calm
your monsters' clawing
as they gnaw at you from
the inside out
I crave to fill
the hollowed-out longing
my own hungers writhing
in obscene
devout
For I am all that is sacred and wild
the spark has been lit
from my innermost rooms
I dance to the drums of
the woman as child
her mystical ways chanting
rhythms in runes
Demons might dance
as you gaze in reflection
in the mirror of time,
of unfiltered space
but I adore all your sides,
your imperfections
discern the divine
in the planes of your face
You are my galaxy
of dark matter
bringing out my
own looking glass
of vantablack
in a feral crown of obsidian
and onyx
as you reach me deep,
there's no going back
For when you love me like that,
plant your tameless,
hot seed
it blossoms within me
a tightly-wrapped tourniquet
for when I bleed
and if my guts
should spill upon
the floor
you will remind me,
in glowing of pores
of who I am
and how I am whole
a lovelight lit in the
storm of my soul
I will push down deeper
until I feel those roots
that connect me to
my center
to my
succulent fruit
So slice me open.
Pull me apart.
Let the juice run down
to heal
your
jagged-edged
heart
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
*chaste pecks from the super-sonic youth
numb lips flutter to the hollowed cheeks of normality
no longer the hand-prints on the guide book to hostility
a pamphlet of rudimentary teachings;
the principles of tolerance and rebellion and acceptance of human beings
a concoction of suppressed psychotic behavior, quick wit, and center of satirical tease
constantly moving with heavy footsteps and heavier hearts
their minds and bodies plagued with actions from a deserted youth
soul lusting over the naivety of people before self-actualization; how crude
do they call it an existential crisis or the daily life of a agoraphobic nobody
shouts from the depths of caged fears that scrape the oblivious flesh in their brain; a bit gaudy
mother, sister, brother, father how your words crush the knots of comfort that line my internal organs
bleeding from the pores of my screams; streams of moon-beams shooting out my eyes; oh, not again!
stomping our metaphorically spiked toenails against the idealism of pop culture
oh, my, how adolescence is the worst kind of torture
cherry slushies lined with cigarettes to create a whirl-pool of nostalgia
recreational drugs and ironic situations to ease our instinctual sense of proverbial nausea
loud-mouthed demons spawned out of clothes-hangers and emotional turmoil
show up in our nightmares that we nick-name ‘a good place to contemplate suicide’
repeated imagery stacked like flap-jacks in the mouths of blissed-out sociopaths
too self-indulgent to include us in to their personal stories so we can observe, record, and assess
i don’t perceive doctors to be particularly and predominantly just and true
but i one time met a doctor who told me ‘being a teenager is perhaps the hardest thing you could ever do’*
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
Dinner is done
everyone's settled
the evening.....like the moon.....is full...
the weight of the night has itself eased into mine,
my expected moment of slumber...now distraught...
the Heavens are purpled
twilight drapes have fallen,
winds of March...bellow
.........my pillows
..............are hollowed
.......................by my elbows
......as a distant rooster crows........
i lie on my abdomen...legs swing back and forth,
catching inspiration, a word, a daydream...a thought,
i grab a pen falling, i grasp a journal, a book,
...............everything is within reach
but, not...the....long..................stretch
of hours....of a sleepless night...whence
....spiced...spiked...and sugared memories...
..........accompany me...and sail with me
.......as i cruise along this lethargic sea
'neath a silent dark, where aches are loudest
.........domed, by an unworded loneliness,
i am wearied by a flow, that is endless,
.....this minute...imagination is ceaseless
........i reach for my mug....but, it's empty
.........................i hear no liquid seething
this moment, a dark sea, should be brewing....
this hour, verses must be a river, overflowing,
...enfolding, this cool and starry, starry evening...
.......i am caffeinated....even without coffee....
Sally
Copyright March 23, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC
Somebody has unstitched my heart.
Pulled the thread and let it fall apart.
And I'm empty now, it's all hollowed out
And I'm trying to breathe with the lungs I'm without.
It wasn't me, and it wasn't you,
Life did what living tends to do,
It stretched the seams and split the sides,
And I felt nothing here inside,
The only thing that's telling me
That things aren't how they ought to be
Is the seizing stop of breath
Inside my outside heaving chest,
And a familiar ache along
The seam that seemed to last so long,
That now across my ribs agape,
Allows my reason to escape,
Along with not a little blood,
To seep beneath me in the rug.
I could tell you I'm surprised,
But that would surely be a lie,
I feel some grimly got relief,
To succumb finally to belief.
I'm not sure that you understand
I'll be waiting here until the end.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
If you were reincarnated as an animal
Knowing everything you do now
Would you treat humans differently than animals already do?
Or would you bite the hand that beats?
Or would you bite the mouth that eats?
Would you treat humans kindly?
That could be a bullet finding
I come across a shivering raccoon
Stuck inside a winter monsoon
It's too young to survive
I could help I surmise
Its coat can't protect its form
In my car it's nice and warm
But I don't understand the raccoon
And I fear it doesn't understand me
Though I'm not proud of it
I travelled around it
Mosquitoes want your blood to survive
The same way I want your love to arrive
There's a pestering orbit
Your teeth grind and grit
I feel the need to feed
I am overcome by greed
I want you inside me
So I insert my proboscis
And you turn into colossus
It's an animal process
When you squash us
So animals grow stingers
And poison that lingers
When we use our fingers
To smash them
And detach them
From our humanistic existence
They have a reproductive resistance
So we keep fighting
And they keep biting
Because there's no end in sight
When we see animals take flight
We define anything different as animal
This is our excuse to act tyrannical
They feel our wrath
When they're in our path
We turn them into roadkill
This world becomes a landfill
Our hollowed humanity on the shelf
We treat animals as we treat ourself
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Your teeth gnaw on my bones
The sound of grinding is the only thing that fills my ears
But it fills them from the inside out
Like a white noise
I am disconnected
I am impervious
Yet not immune to the sun
My skin bakes and cracks
And it gets filled with oil and grease and dirt and honey
from the bees that I crushed with my feet because their wings made too much wind
and it almost blew me off my feet
but I stayed grounded
I am the bark on the oak tree that the insects burrow into
They gnaw from the inside out and they make their homes and bear their children
I’ve raised a whole family inside of me
They’ve hollowed me into an empty vessel
The kind you leave under the kitchen sink that you pour grease and fat into but when you want to use me as a vase for your roses
The soap cannot remove the oils and I slowly fill your flowers
I **** them from the inside out
That is my revenge
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 4:15 AM UTC
**The allure of everything bad
The allure of vices that nullify circumstances which make living seem sad
The 'Hollywood' cigarette, the hard liquor... ******* crystal ****
All very romanticized but in reality, isn't that really just a self-induced slow death?
We don't talk about it, until we watch from the sidelines
If only for a second
When partaking one repeats quotes like 'it is what it is'
'I am not a quitter'
You've built up a tolerance for one, so you beckon
The bartender to pour you a second
Social trend like a hot topic on twitter
So now you want more
You ignorantly jab the needle inside you like you don't know what your signing up for
In a sense you don't, for you choose not to
Addiction entraps... but who?
Not you
And the moment you decide to go cold turkey
It appears more enticing in another movie, or in the hands of a fellow druggie
Impossible to reject
Relapse... rubber band effect
Yet even he that doesn't use gets a little curious
One day the stress becomes too much to handle, he's peeved
He's furious
He's heard of pills sold over the counter, and also of those available from dusty cobwebbed shelves
By dealers with hollowed out eyes, ghosts of their former selves
In an alternate reality
Where 'it's all good'
It's all about finding solace in one happy, high family... 'It's all hood'
A distorted image of zoned out smiling faces
Floating around in temporary elation
These vices have comforted and haunted many, way before our so called 'X-rated generation'
The druggie, the alcoholic or the *** addict you see... could be your's or someone else's dad
Or it could very well be you or me
Seduced by the allure of everything bad
I write this expecting it to be misunderstood by many...
For a judgement between bad and good
I myself could be affiliated to one of these vices... or many
Someone reading this may have already renamed it 'The allure of everything good'.**
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:01 AM UTC
~
*Hark!
He knocks.
Time, it's time,
the Kuroi Jukai within me.
Finding an unordinary
drifting off to sleep point,
a hollowed-out spot,
where I can let
God dream for me.
Whistles in the wind,
in lullaby the sky and sea
seem to trade places,
bending around me
as vertical blanketed surges.
My carcass is a colonization (of bones)
for my dearly departed ones,
forbearers of migration,
seeking endless sea,
until like them,
I settle upon
their ancestral shore.*
~
Sep 28, 2021
Sep 28, 2021 at 2:13 PM UTC
I remember the little men
in big boots. The ones who sat
at the edge of roof tops in a city called
Loneliness, and cut their teeth while chewing jagged glass and angry truths.
They parachuted down to earth
and hit their heads on desperation.
Hollowed out hearts with tree trunks
serving as legs, they marched
across the stratosphere until their existences neared zero. Nothing
more to disappearing than popping
some pills, falling asleep, and dreaming
that the whole world had gone mad.
The interesting part is when you wake up
and you can still hear the echo of
unfilled boots.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
Stretching and shouldering night away a sun crouches
to birth black's ousting
by one more empty circle of dark's hollowed pouches
then outs in sparkling showers.
Spangled with myriad star-labour unfolding membranes,
like numberless leaves
dreamers listen to soft serenades as the universe favours
lullaby-songs to deep breathing.
Silvered surface shivers with night-eyes as glittery dust
follows with dart-swift
flight each soul's winged journey while murmuring such
mysteries to those sleeping still.
Glimmers on sightless horizon reveal light's celebration
while untrodden dew
newly writhing in close-capped life waits inertia's frame
stirring to shake before rising.
Piercing the brain time's needle regathers worn threads
and remembers that more
sown seed means now-grown grain needs re-collection
in daylight's mind-aware storage.
Open-eyed, naught is over as hinging on less or more,
sun, with slumber done,
now hurries to open the thin partition between yawns
of torpidity to more hours won.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC