"justine" poems
032017
Isa, Dalawa, tatlo, apat, lima, Anim, Pito? Tama ba?
Pasensya kana,
Hindi ko na kasi mabilang ang ating mga away at tampuhan.
Nahihiya na nga ako sayo eh, Kasi hindi dapat ito yung iyong nararanasan.
Alam ko sobra-sobra na yung mga sakit na naidulot ko sayo
Wala na yung mga pangako na sinabing tutuparin ko
Yung mga ***** tayo jan, ***** tayo dito"
Yung "Susulitin natin ang oras pag balik mo sa piling ko"
Dapat pala sinulit ko na ang oras habang nandito kapa sa piling ko.
Naalala ko pa yung araw na paalis kana
para tuparin yung pangarap mo
Kahit masakit sakin na lumisan ka
ikaw ay aking suportado
Kahit na alam kong matagal yun
pilit nating sinasabi na saglit ka lang, Na kayang kaya natin
Hanggang sa dumating na tayo sa hindi natin kaya.
Ang "sakit"
Salitang nanggaling na parehas sa ating dalawa
Yung tipong mahal na mahal pa natin yung isat isa
pero parang hindi na
Yung kahit hindi ikaw yung problema
sayo na napupunta
Hindi ko alam kung dapat bang wakasan na
Pero nagdesisyon tayo na kayanin pa.
Lumipas ang ilang araw
bumabalik na tayo sa dati
Nag-iintindihan na ulit
minsan pa nga nag bobolahan
Sabi ko pa sa sarili ko nun… YES!!! Wala na tong katapusan
Ngunit NAUDLOT ang ating walang katapusan.
Bumabalik na naman si justine sa kanyang dating ugali
Magdodota tapos hating gabi na naman uuwi
Tatawag ka sa aking telepono pero hindi ko nasasagot
Hanggang sa tumagal tagal na,
Hindi ko na sinasagot.
Ang hirap lang kasi maging masaya nang wala ka pisikal
Ang hirap magtiis na yung yakap
ay babasahin ko na lang at hindi na literal
Kaya nililibang ang sarili kahit na mali na ang paraan
Kahit na alam kong mali yun na dahilan
Hindi ko pa rin tinigilan.
Sabi ko sa sarili ko
maayos din lahat ng ito pag nakauwi kana
Nagkakaganito lang tayo dahil hindi tayo magkasama
Nag-aalala pagkat hindi sigurado sa ginagawa ng isa
Kahit iilang araw nalang
tiisin pa natin, pakiusap ko sayo
Maliliwanagan din naman
kapag nagtagpo na and dalawang puso.
May isa lang akong hiling na sana ay tuparin mo
Sa laban na ito,
Wag ka sanang matuto na sumuko.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
Mummy used to buy me hair grease,
for my hair was a seismic wave of crease.
The scalp crying sweat,
the tantrums were the onset.
Wide tooth comb have mercy on the nots,
nests of lies and cheeky clots.
The flurries of dandruff deposit,
the skeletons in the closet.
Mummy brought out the blue magic,
the long strands thirsty to become ethic.
Such a wave of moisture,
like the silkiness of an oyster.
A perfect layer of braided Cornrows,
blended amongst the tropical mangoes.
Mummy says to me you’re a woman now,
be prepared and ready to plough,
the knotty hairs of your little ones.
Go and buy the same hair grease,
to ensure their naughty traits mature into peace.
Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 1:38 AM UTC
You have abandoned purity for perfection.
Even the blind have moments of clarity
but you ***** around like the Cyclops
feeling nowhere for noman while
affecting a quiet, moronic expression.
You can't knit without needles,
but you have mislaid the point and
so things unravel into random skeins.
Your typewriter rattles only in reverse.
Bards stub their toes and wail.
You hear them, but pay no attention.
You are listening for the atomic thunderclap.
Nothing less than finale of final will do.
When it explodes at last you will know
the inarticulate, unspeakable name of god.
Perhaps Fred. Perhaps Norma or Justine.
Perhaps merely a very loud Boom...
That will be more than enough for one life.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
White, calloused hands
Gripping white soft belly
Bushy white hair
Rubbing clean white face
Unfurling smoke rising
Rising like the tide on a full moon
Into blue sky
Blue as the ocean itself
Lakes north of the Twin Cities
Life living liberally under rocks
Death staring darkly from the depths
Moon glowing brightly above
Train brakes screech
The passengers rustle a bit
Black as the night
Hard as a rock
Rampant youths file into the alley
Raging inside
Ranting out
Rigid bones cease
The drug addicts plead mercilessly
With their alter ego
More more more
**** **** ****
The businessmen do their fast walk
And the women do their little sway
Walking dogs and walking strollers
Clinically insane they repeat
Dark blond hair
Ripped jeans
Tighter than skin
Gay shoes
Beautiful brunette
Big *** ****
Smirking smile
She knows she’s hot
Random dudes street talking
Random chicks street banging
Random kids street dealing
Random guys finish the job
Men in work clothes
Buy love symbols for their niece
And rock shows for their nephew
But nothing for their sons
Watching the sunset
Watching the moon rise
Watching the tides roll
Watching you fake it all
Justine took all the pills
She’s passed out on the futon
This basement gives me chills
I think I heard someone call 9-1-1
Someone in uptown died tonight
Shot
On the street
Blood rained like rain
Red towels from the hotel
Stolen again
Marriot’s free swimming pool
Cost me 800 dollars
*** and drugs combined
Rugs and thugs
And enemy teams
Gunshots, gun fights
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
Justine whispers in delirium
of Mediterranean summers
of lunar carriages
and pulsating drummers
Where exists rapture
congregates hosts
closing curtains on time
while releasing their ghosts
They who play chess with death
in vineyards of veins
are tangled in torment
and lamented remains
Vessels of reapers
who crucify hearts
host on the gentle
lacerate souls apart
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
Into the blender-
Pineapple juice, half a carton
Ice, a handful
Coconut cream, a well shaken tin
Bacardi, a goodly dollop
Justine says
I should add half an eggwhite
For the froth
But how the hell do you halve an egg white
So I leave it out.
A few seconds unholy racket
And it’s ready to pour
Into my favourite thick heavy glass
Put the pitcher in the fridge
And take on impulse.
****** good
Brings back a tiled balcony in Puerto Vallarta
A small boy wearing an iguana
Tricia Lambert
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Breathe.
Inhale deep.
Let the afternoon sink
into your tired lungs
on golden wings of daylight
and ease.
Breathe.
Exhale slow.
Let oxygen, nitrogen,
carbon dioxide and pollution
whisper from your bloodstream
and mingle with the trees.
Purify.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe.
Count to five (for me).
One:
stretch each muscle of your fingertips--
first knuckle,
second knuckle,
third.
Two:
curl your toes inside your shoes;
feel your socks stretch
inch by
inch.
Three:
spell your name until it sticks;
seven letters raindance
just to comfort
you.
Four:
Tell me where you live,
how the squeak-springed couch sinks
under the weight of family
and love.
Five:
close for me your tired eyes;
shifting patterns of stars wrap your dark
in brightness
and calm.
Then breathe.
Inhale deep and exhale slow.
Untie the knots from your shoulders,
and open the cage to your chest.
Breathe.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
Frances Justine, with eyes of bella blue,
with tipsy gait and freely-falling shambles of a step,
half-awake, half-dreaming in the onset of a rush
of seeping winds' complaints unto the painted walls of bleach.
A phantom dressed in sighing silk, a glimmer-dress unbound,
her fingers wrapped in lace and fragile trimmings of the earth;
a sonic trembling synchronized with evening humming low,
this tapping placed upon a table -- forests in the flow.
Frances Justine,
the pretty,
the proud --
had relished these demeanors for a lady most in love;
how liquid are her movements as she dances in the wait
of gales that hope take her far, to continents away.
Away, so far away, from this pertinent monsoon,
her setting heart thus painted with the phases of the moon,
it floats, but not for long, the sky's
half-empty and half-full;
there, Frances Justine darkly was
just waiting to be whole.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
Multiple braids equal multiple roots,
in the direction my fingers scoots.
Loose braids,
robust cornrow braids in a stack,
chanting all the way down my back.
A loose rope,
or a robust bridge.
You know which root to take….
Justine Louisy
Copyright © Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 8:26 AM UTC
you were just a teen
but i was less than that
i was so confused on how to act
i looked at you and your long blonde hair
and somehow found myself in there.
your confusion left me feeling sure
your hand in mine, i felt secure
and I know it must’ve hurt that
all people wanted was
more more more
and-
i know you never needed anyone
after you lost your drug
but when a relationship dies, death still can’t conquer love
and love was all around you
but you purposely sought out hate
inhaled it down, held it in,
and for once, i couldn’t relate
i watched you plan your fate
through your destruction and watched you spiral
and when i went to pull you out
you let out this sickly smile
as if begging me to let you be
convincing yourself this was your destiny
as if pain in these doses was keeping you alive
who was this person i saw inside?
and all those times you attacked me with your eyes
and all those times you had me stuck in your lines
you were just ******* with our minds
cuz you enjoyed this maniacal ride
i still
would
reach for your hand
to bring you back,
it was always my plan
but with walls so thick and made of stone
to save you, i learned, i had to leave you alone.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
Welcome abroad Thameslink.
Grab a camera a wink at
Shaftsbury’s bootylicious dancers.
Pen in gear and know the answers to
the parade of pub quizzes.
Let your strands of raw seismic frizzes scream
on bonds lightening Thames RIB.
The Louis Vuitton wallet ‘on fleek’ for that crib inside
the Shards slender diamond belly.
Feet stay in groove with that Kidston welly against
the roaring mud at the wireless festival.
Pre dem soulful struts of de Notting hill carnival spicy
spirits, nani wines and **** kisses.
Safari hunt watch out for those hisses on
centre stage of the primeval in the zoo.
Grab my hand and come on boo steady
your bags and steady your feet on the thrilling
ride of Oxford street.
Reminisce its entirety and say goodbye.
As we take in our final view on the London eye.
Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 2:19 AM UTC
Be the salt lamp,
that purifies the delinquent dust,
and leaves a path of glow,
so the dark can finally see.
Justine Louisy
Copyright © Justine Louisy 2020
All Rights Reserved
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 4:35 AM UTC
I am going to buy
A big black cowboy hat
And lick the heels of suicide
For my 25th
I invited all the guys at work
Then followed with a disclaimer
" i am not responsible for any distasteful or aggressive acts i may, and am planning to, commit at this dysfunctional function"
And the kid at work said
"Ill try to make it, i gotta see this, but i made plans with my girlfriend. Im gonna try to get out of it."
"Just bring her along" i suggested
"Im not takin her anywhere near you man, your disgusting" says the kid
And i didnt mind too much
Because i have skin like a vulture
And am currently reading the
Complete works of De Sade
But i have also read Dostoyevsky's
"White Nights"
And i almost cried
But the kid doesn't need to know that
Let him know me only as the wild
Drunk
That he has heard so much about
Those stories are far more interesting
Than love and loneliness anyways.
I laughed.
"Well...let me know if you can ditch the broad man"
I walked to the break room and read
De Sade's list of different ways to eat
Human ****
He sure got creative in prison
It all made me laugh
Then the girl with the dark tangled
Burning forests hair walked in
And she smelled of the
Death of winter
Pulsating green and the sludge of
Forgotten Decembers
And i could taste
What Justine was trying so hard
To protect
Well....anyways....
Heres to 25 down
And 25 more to go.
I am the fool
Like Ironheart.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
Sometimes she gets on with life as a model, She's a funny kinda gal. She likes listening to music and playing chess. She likes to contemplate studying. But when she starts to daydream, Her mind turns straight to socialising.
Sometimes I look at her and I look into her eyes, I notice the way she thinks about me with only a smile, Curved lips she just can't disguise. But she thinks it's studying making her life worthwhile. Why is it so hard for her to decide which she loves more? Studying or... Socialising?She likes to use words like 'quirky' and 'lovely.' She likes to use words about people. But when she stops her talking, Her mind turns straight to depression.
Sometimes I look at her and I look into her eyes, I notice the way she thinks about me with only a smile, Curved lips she just can't disguise. But she thinks it's studying making her life worthwhile. Why is it so hard for her to decide which she loves more? Studying or me?She likes to hang out with Justine and Vitta. But when left alone, Her mind turns straight to her loneliness.
She hates herself and the rude people who stomp on her like ants. But she just thinks back to socialising, And she's happy once again.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
Okay you go back and forth in between me Justine and Christian and you get all three of us mad at each other it's ******** that I can't have friends without u dating them and making it to ware we hate each other's ******* guts but you can stop here we all three were bff's before us came alone so ***** be and ***** by.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
I know these people.
Their voice box doesn’t even need to be awake.
I know their character by the way their lips are dressed.
A streak of blue,
I know their brain is sweating stress.
A display of rose,
I know their flirtatious fever is always contagious.
A heap of crust,
I know their anger stings the meaning of trust.
A stream of moisture,
I know their soul sooths and heals the shadows.
A thin size,
I know they seek comfort in a box.
A big size,
I know they feed off centre stage.
A nest of cuts,
I know they want the gift of love.
Justine Louisy
Copyright © Justine Louisy 2020
All Rights Reserved
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 1:15 PM UTC
You can't talk about love without talking about its absence, deceit, desire and perversions.
Despite Justines intention to live a virtuous and moral life
she repeatedly encounters debauched and depraved individuals who demean her in every sense of the word.
Justine is brutally and incessantly violated, yet always eager and docile with big blow job eyes like portals of magic.
Using lunar rituals and oneiric transmissions she masturbates incessantly in alley doorways while imagining being backdoored in a bathtub of oiled men - and time will not take that away.
A queen of pinups and a scape goat without a safe word
She is held hostage by desire interlocking her with a **** vampire
living in a stone-cold chamber who texted pitiful Instagram posts about beautiful scarification, the pleasures of narcissism and beauty that left her always feeling like her own undertaker.
How does it work to protect yourself from yourself in this bitter city of the mind where silver flies, pocked faces and little worthless pennies in knotted dreams hum into the cells of your mottled brain?
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 4:39 AM UTC
Tickles of the straw fingers,
it will be alright they say.
Wave of the centre wind,
the saint’s at rest on the air’s kisses.
Join us they exclaim.
The scarlet macaw on her acclaimed throne,
art of ranking colours,
colours of a warrior’s triumph.
Rejoice in her name.
Rejoice!
Rejoice!
Bush deer content with the sound of emptiness,
the wolfs an ancient myth.
Bumbles bees retreating from the flowers,
along the yellow brick road.
The sky will never shed a tear
Today.
Tomorrow.
Next week.
Next month.
Next year.
In life.
Gabriel meadow. You are filled with my prospective destiny.
God bless you.
Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 4:58 AM UTC
Come and follow.
down, down this hollow.
Tree, tea and other such triviali-
ties?
Let us land in this lettuce land,
swapping vegetable stories
kissing better our sore knees.
Maybe if we try hard enough
we'll find love.
A spark, a candle lit- as
we share our candlelit dinner; whats on the menu?
Deceit pies, cream lies.
and other some such tasties.
We're too hasty.
Just me, talking to just me
or was it Justine?
We'll never know- a beautiful mess.
I guess.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
You sit on that ***** bus seat,
all seraphic and glowing-
hovering above the filth.
The beauty your body possesses
makes my heart flutter
and my eyes avert-
unable to bear the spotless, striking
quality of your shining form.
But beneath That is what?
Under this gleaming exterior what is there:
If we were to peel back the skin of
your perfectly symmetrical face;
dislodge those glittering green eyes
to look within-
into your true essence;
that thing that,
although invisible,
exists inside your faultlessly proportioned
mass of tissue and bone.
Who are you?
Your name doesn't matter.
Jane, Justine, Charlotte;
**** all that.
what are you other than beauty-
other than a twitter handle,
or your favourite food;
Other than your preference of hot beverage.
I want to know you,
YOU
When you breathe,
what do you feel?
When you sit on this bus, gliding through streets
and past buildings,
are you over-whelmed by the magnitude of it all?
When you step from your little man-made cave in the morning
and above you,
instead of a closed off ceiling,
is the seeming boundlessness of space,
Do you wonder how the **** we can all just keep going on
and not loose our minds at the slightest
glimpse of this stark, partial reality?
Tell me all this,
tell me.
You can't.
You're just a girl on a bus,
and I'm just the guy who falls in love with possibilities.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 9:26 AM UTC
i remember, she used to pronounce her name as: just tina... even though the french would have said: just teen... or ju steen.
and my my, what a headache,
feels a lot like a diabetic's nightmare,
no food for the whole day,
some water and some alcohol -
what could possibly go wrong?
and there i was, dreaming of a hoisin
sauce duck tortilla wrap...
but did i get it?
no...
caesar chicken tortilla wrap
instead...
and torrential rain,
******* down buckets of pears...
and what else?
ah, it's nearing october and i'm
still found wearing shorts and
sandals...
and so it was, memories of justine,
running barefoot with her in the rain...
justine? aunt, who was only about
5 years older than me...
her dad was my grandmother's brother...
don't ask...
it just reminded me of that day we
fell ill after running barefoot in the rain,
as i munched my caesar infused chicken
tortilla wrap, holding a pair of sandals
in the other hand, strolling the the drum-beat
of the rain, amused ever so often
when dipping my feet into puddles,
trying to guess how many
variations of cement there were...
in guessed about 7 different fibres
of texture...
i can't tell you how much fun it becomes
reliving old ills -
like walking barefoot in the rain,
nearing october, in shorts,
eating a chicken caesar tortilla roll -
complaining about the headache induced
by a dangerous sugar level (from fasting),
twice retorting: and i'm not even a diabetic.
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
Biro the brave heart,
liberated the wasted words,
that layed lifeless on the rippled land of paper,
imprisoned and not found.
Words that have been fed with feeble fever,
swollen from the neglect injected into its letter limbs.
Neglect from the puzzle prime minister.
But biro the brave heart pen,
together with the motion from his noble ‘hand’ steed,
slowly walking around each word,
in a captivating circle,
made out of incentive ink.
The circle of meaningful medicine,
that cures the words emptiness,
and installs a ventilator
so, it can breathe value.
Words that are ready to breathe value,
the words I am looking for so,
that my figure of speech is finally alive.
Justine Louisy
Copyright © Justine Louisy 2020
All Rights Reserved
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 5:11 AM UTC
Her name is Justine and she
just turned thirty a day go;
'You're over the
hill,' her friends say;
'When are you gonna
settle down?' her parents ask
'Single and
damaged'
is what she translates
She walks to the
pharmacy two, or so
blocks down from her apartment;
Buys a pack of cigarettes,
Yellow American Spirits,
and as she begins to walk toward
the door to leave, she realizes
she forgot to buy a lighter
She turns around and notices
the man behind the counter
has been staring at her ***
He looks up, as though
he were checking the time
of an imaginary clock posted
on the ceiling;
and then he coughs,
or fakes a cough,
and ask how he is able to help her;
'I forgot
to buy a lighter'
she says
'These are the
only ones we have'
he says
pointing to
a collection
of white Bic lighters
displayed on the counter;
'Nothing else?' she asks,
'I'm superstitious
and I'm definitely not
buying a white one'
'Only ones we have'
he says with a slight
southern undertone
of indifference
'Oh what the hell'
she says, grabbing the lighter
and slamming
it on the counter
'You only live once,
right?'
The man behind the counter
shrugs, 'sure' he says
his glasses sinking
into the sockets of his eyes;
and she notices beads of tears
underneath the ***** of skin,
or is it sweat?
He rings up the lighter
and hands it back to her
She takes it, but not without
keeping an eye on him
till she reaches the exit;
Then she gives him the finger,
peels the package of her pack
of cigarettes and lights one up
for the road
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 2:47 AM UTC
Pour te garder toujours à portée des yeux
Je t’ai mise sous verre,
Ma muse courtoise,
Avec encadrement de bois
Stuqué et doré du dix-neuvième siècle
Avec marie-louise,
Jolie gravure du dix-huitième siècle signée
Sigmond Freudeberg, peintre et Antoine Louis Romanet, graveur !
C’est une scène galante :
Tu prends le bain
Et Justine, ta servante t’apporte sur un plateau
Un billet-doux et ta tasse de chocolat chaud
"De la Lettre ou du Chocolat, que préfère Madame?!."
Dit Justine avec le regard complice de l 'entremetteuse.
Ah ma chère Justine, j'ai le coeur bien plus délicat,
Plus faible infiniment, hélas que la poitrine!"
Puisque c’est toi madame
Tu choisirais d’abord la lettre ou le chocolat ?
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:44 AM UTC
I know your young feet have the urge to drive a high heel,
but they cannot feel the heartbeats of the ground of soil,
beating beginnings and growth.
So, abide to this simple troth for your naked feet,
to meet with beginnings and growth,
first.
Justine Louisy
Copyright © Justine Louisy 2020
All Rights Reserved
Aug 5, 2020
Aug 5, 2020 at 4:11 AM UTC