"knowingly" poems
The globalization
Once thought to be an important aspect
To connect the world
To diverse the world
Has been only a part success
And of course, a success to be
In a way people are connected
In the enchanting world of ours
Rising the common world consciousness
Rising and rising and rising
A day by day and day
The knowledge domain, a gigantic trip
Profoundly majestic experience uplifting people
Remarkably
All over the world diminishing the differences
Differences humans suppose to believe
Differences that drew humanity backwards
The differences mostly set by identitities
Identities in terms of nationality
In terms of religion, caste and creed
As we observe, differences softening them boundaries
A good thing as seen
Manifested due to globalization
Only possible due to global reach
Just possible due to connection in large scale
Diminishing are those differences as they don’t fit
Don't fit to the consciousness of the world
To the rising consciousness of the world now
More the fire it sets the plank to burn faster
Happening for good for sure, I believe
On the contrary differences too
In the verse of diminishing the truth
It contradicts the positivity
As see in the world today is extremism
Yes extremism happens to exist
If it exists for a long period
A whole long period of time
In the years to come
Is definately calling for absurdity
Which humans may not want to percieve
The adversities of the impact of globalization
Leading a chance for the high level corporates
To the world to have access to the marketplace
All over the world
Leading to a state of consumerism
To the people
People becoming more and more consumers
They are being brainwashed
For them to buy goods
That global industries produce
People are running after the products
****** consumers
****** sheeps
Those multinationals
And shark headed corporates
Are producing and manufacturing
The high headed corporates
The pigs are manipulating
Are brainwashing people
The sheeps are diverted towards it
The people
The only agenda is to gain more
And more profit only
By making the people slaves of themselves
And slaves of their products
And believe it
Coke and Pepsi may be
Right hand and a left hand
But the Coke and Pepsi both are the same
The very debate which is better is
Helping the corporates to sale
By making their brains washed away
Consumers
Sheeps
Brainwashed
In a sense they are enjoying
The debate they argue upon
And they are unaware
And they are manipulated
Knowingly and unknowingly
More often knowingly
****** sheep slaves
Another adjoining thing
most of the governments in the world
Are being run by the aid
Of the corporates
Only have a selfish agenda
And strategy to sale
Products, thoughts and philosophy
More and more and more
****** pigs
Brainwashing minds of the people
The sheeps
Having a streak of global consumerism
Selfish bunch of pigs
And the brainwashed sheeps
Say hell ya
F***king hell ya
F***k off
Get out'a here
****** freaks
Pigs and Sheeps
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 11:01 AM UTC
*consciously, willfully, I wish it
quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward,
in its natural game, set, overmatched,
the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment
the water songfully swishes,
as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now
the only natural authorized aural apparition,
the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning,
honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren,
as well as admitting their noises disfigure
the fast approaching majesty of the end of
our summer seasoning of humanity
consciously, willfully, I wish it
once again, lush is the quietude,^
now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder,
how come I to write of these moments so oft,
thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities,
in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last,
see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life,
come the fall, the winter, the early dark,
the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind,
that...need I say more?
consciously, willfully, I wish it
the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand,
shall stay in place, be the capstone of my summer living vision,
become permanent part and parcel
of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when
I will write, soon enough,
my vision white weeping clouded,
you will weep knowingly, sympathetically
consciously, willfully,
I wish for that as well*
8/27/17
6:35pm
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
Just when I think
I've known the world
I come to the realization
That I've only seen it
Through my own two eyes.
It eats at me
Though I shouldn't be bothered
And yet
I can't help but wonder why.
What do strangers see
When they watch my favorite film
And what do they hear
In their favorite songs?
What do others girl feel
When they knowingly fall in love
With someone
Who's stringing them along?
What do my parents know
When they look at the roads
They've walked down
Many more times than I?
What do babies think
When the world's so unknown
And they can only use their voices
To cry?
Where is the truth
In others' opinions
So very different from mine?
Where lies the inspiration
Of other writers
As they steadily type
Each line?
In the end
There's not much of a point
Unless reincarnation exists.
But frustration prevails
Knowing my eye's the limit
And my curiosity
You see
Persists.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC
The overripe mango that sits promptly on my desk stares at me through its one eye, indignantly asking to be eaten – before it goes bad.
I consider, strongly, the mango’s proposition.
Contemplating the level of hunger, or desire I have for this demanding piece of fruit.
It may be that the latte I just finished burnt off any remaining taste buds I have, or it may be that I find
something amusing about holding a mango hostage of its pride – but I just can’t eat it.
A once firm, confident specimen edging ever closer to becoming a wrinkly, seeping, sack of rotten juice.
Knowingly, I chain it to its fate by refusing to slice the skin back and swallow its sweetness.
It demands to be mutilated rather than aged.
As I sit here writing of my hostage, it continues to stare through its eye – spiting me.
Cursing me with future putrid fruit, with worms in my apples, and with brown bananas.
Oh, how I hate brown bananas.
This mango has learnt well in the time it’s spent in my room, it knows my weaknesses.
I always knew that fruit had character, but this mango – I tell you, it’s something else.
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 9:10 PM UTC
We fall,
and hard,
and in the shadows,
***** ourselves on snags,
that tear our clothes;
grazed and cut,
we stagger on -
Impressions, ideas, fancies!
Of these have we been disabused.
But is this spring,
come again?
Lovely,
yesterday,
in the bright sunlight,
to see you,
felt green hat in among the photo clouds,
apple suedes on the gallery's dank floor.
Melvyn,
and I,
merrily circling with you the light cloud images,
my nostrils full of pollen spikes.
The pictures:
wisps of trailing dreams churning in ‘scapes of infinite blue;
dark clouds,
in amongst them,
too.
Photographs in two time places
caught;
at once, all:
the other and t'other.
So excitement swells,
and everything besides us quells,
because the knowing of itself,
knows,
and dares beyond the frames;
to skirt knowingly the unsaid;
to want beyond the wounded past,
to pull things,
once again,
inside out.
In whimsy’s currents flow these thoughts,
these feelings,
these drives;
swirling in eddies,
so that as you sit,
on a summer’s day,
it moves,
a mirror to everything above.
The wavelets on the surface,
hammered into shape,
burn, bite and dazzle;
the sun’s flames leaping and dancing on ripples.
In the basement,
on the concrete,
your Y proneness shifts,
releasing knees on black-clad thighs;
two pendulums swinging,
brushing;
yawing metronomes in the cool,
coolness of my desultory thoughts.
Oh, what am I saying?
Feelings like reveries walk along these silver lips straying languorously.
These myths are too soon made,
carried one to the next,
one-on-one,
until contained no longer,
become new truths.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
In the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in Spain.
Does it rain in Spain?
Oh yes my dear on the contrary and there are no bull fights.
The dancers dance in long white pants
It isn't right to yence your aunts
Come Uncle, let's go home.
Home is where the heart is, home is where the **** is.
Come let us **** in the home.
There is no art in a ****
Still a **** may not be artless.
Let us **** an artless **** in the home.
Democracy.
Democracy.
Bill says democracy must go.
Go democracy.
Go
Go
Go
Bill's father would never knowingly sit down at table with a Democrat.
Now Bill says democracy must go.
Go on democracy.
Democracy is the ****
Relativity is the ****
Dictators are the ****
Menken is the ****
Waldo Frank is the ****
The Broom is the ****
Dada is the ****
Dempsey is the ****
This is not a complete list.
They say Ezra is the ****
But Ezra is nice.
Come let us build a monument to Ezra.
Good a very nice monument.
You did that nicely
Can you do another?
Let me try and do one.
Let us all try and do one.
Let the little girl over there on the corner try and do one.
Come on little girl.
Do one for Ezra.
Good.
You have all been successful children.
Now let us clean the mess up.
The Dial does a monument to Proust.
We have done a monument to Ezra.
A monument is a monument.
After all it is the spirit of the thing that counts.
9.6k
It's been months since I played it,
The guitars have my exams in their way,
They miss me at Karnal just as I miss them here at Rohtak.
The strings crave to be played - to be touched by me,
It's high time that I played it so the tuning must be long lost,
The hollow & the pickups feel lonelier in my memory without me & strings missing my touch.
I must hold them in my hands and write musical notes with them,
I will make the strings my pallet & strum them in rhythm while I sing,
I will apologize to my guitars for having ignored them knowingly.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 7:31 AM UTC
by
rgpage
face down she rests her naked form
head turned from her lover's glance.
eye's closed she lies and knowingly waits,
(a) loving touch starts passion's dance.
his huge hand moves across her back
with strokes the touch of butterfly wings.
upon her creamy skin so smooth
its path now set toward splendered things.
his pace a slow deliberate score
her passion's breath he brings,
from touch so soft, igniting sparks
with love her breath now sings.
his steady course she knows so well
with every touch as if it's new.
her sparks of passion love's embers light,
love's embers loving hue.
down past her rear with feathered touch
just knowing where to go,
behind her knees his fingers dance
to passion's steady flow.
their hips now in synchronic dance,
love's voluntary ride, she feels his
passion grown so hard,
now pressed against her side.
he cups her breast so gently
as if it were a flower,
its ****** earlier soft and small
now hard with passion's power.
and in her ***** great sparks erupt
her soft and pleasured flesh.
with juices flowing, desire's high
to meet love's natural crush.
now she turns to meet his lips
her passion running high.
with savage hunger she pulls him in
her hunter now the prey.
tables turned their urge well matched
desire holds the pace.
she takes control and guides his love
with feminine stealth and grace.
to places only she could know
where sparks ignite
small streaks of light,
that illuminates her soul.
together they fend love's tempting end
to stay their lover's dance.
to take control and reach their goal
the essence of their romance.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
a goat encounters a lion. normally the lion sees the goat as food. instead The Lion offers shelter warmth theo goat offered protection awkward that a four-legged hooved animal could protect the queen of the jungle protection together they stood both natural leaders both immature in the ways at the time neither wanted to back down from the other but that's what made it work despite the goats dexterity and natural stubbornness in his ways the lion SAT and ate with the goat. years and years they feast upon the golden ducks they collected at the rivers which they traveled odd as combination is professionals know that that is not even a combination amongst the food chain but fore a while they dined peacefully. the lion roared bloodthirsty the goat while being the loner the leader willfully back down from the lion scenario has a goat beat a lion. The goat couldn't bear the lion parting ways the goat be that as it may just wanted his own way but the goat has to learn sometimes the best win is to back off not every wall is meant to be broken especially that of a lion and her pride so the lion beautiful as ever smirked as if we were the prey and the goat knowingly put his head inside her mouth I'll let you tell it
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Vermillion lips smile knowingly
across the room, so at ease it's
almost angelic to see.
He grips his wine glass to almost breaking point,
what the **** is she doing here?
More to the point ,How is she here?
Relationships are like cats, let them out,
and well they'd better be neutered.
That's what gramma said!
Slowly, sensually almost, she sashayed
over to him, she could see his tension,
but not his fear.........yet.
Face to face they smile, but her smile never
reaches her eyes, he stammers, drops his glass,
'Here, she says you need air'
Outside, he's composed
'No one knows, no one knows' he keeps repeating
Who are you talking to darling? She whispers
Not me,I'm dead, you shot me,
I was there, then kicks him hard
Vulnerable alone with his red mouthed wife he screams.
Guests rush out, to their host babbling,
Incoherent, confessing to ******
screaming over and over, blue lights in the distance
Closer and closer, guests now witnesses.
Host now completely within the pain of a mental
Eternal mind slip.
She, moves closer to him, soothes him, sirens closer,
reassures him as he screams,that yes his wife is dead
appeased he looks up in bewilderment.
Oh, me, oh darling brother in law did you forget?
Jo's twin, the one au-pairing abroad when you married
Pleased to meet you
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
A stadium filled with thousands of bodies
all pressed together
knowingly aware
but not caring about the abundance of sweat coating their bodies, which isn't their's
or the amount of limbs pressed against them, which isn't their's.
A stadium filled with thousands of people
chanting
screaming
the words which fuel them
give them life
and a purpose to keep going .
A stadium filled with thousands of people
all wearing the same shirt
which represents their love
for simple humans
just like them
which give their life
purpose.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
A squirrel has the capacity
To reclaim nuts from memory.
But they can't make
Peanut Butter
To smear themselves,
Or their nuts,
Like animals
For ***
The Bottlenose
Is self-aware,
We noted in
His glassy stare;
When put before
A carnival mirror,
So covex, concave,
Too complex,
We also note
A confusing quiver;
The water's not
What makes him shiver.
Pigs are said to be
As smart as me
When I was three.
Now I'm four.
A chimp can nail
Two boards together,
To make
A cross;
We pray they
Don't redress
Their loss.
Whale song is said
To carry on
Beneath the blue
For 1 00 miles.
Its got a beat.
Do they
Do the ****
Or slow
Whale dance.
Crows, you know,
Have studied us
For 10 000 years.
They're iconic,
Mythic tricksters
Cawing knowingly
Above our ears.
So much so
For 10 000 years.
10 000 more
Should we rot
So long.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
My Estranged Dear
Why couldn't we piecemeal the past
The pieces that crashed
Over dinner and a cup of joe
Over the branches that glow
Why did the leaves fall from their limbs
Before the Autumn hymns
Before their time
Our days lost in chime
Why do two hearts sever alone
Confetti tomorrows falling to stone
Why my estranged dear do you dread
A benevolence served over broken bread
A posse of good nature willed
In fall of olive branches milled
To my estranged dears
Collectively over the years
I sat in front of the mirror
Farther away than nearer
Pondering the same sad old song
Of where golden went wrong
Was it being on the ruler of the river
With no catches to deliver
Being next to our campfire
Small flames freezing your heart's desire
Was the heat of the night
Dancing in plight
Were the words I spoke
Just a convoy of smoke
Was it sleeping in the restless tent
Your pent up passion spent
On black bears in others, you see
And not in me
To my estranged dears
My eyes were blind to your fears
I admit with regret
And knowingly I know my debt
Yet I can only wander on the past
In hopes that an ember is cast
A ruler I was not
Though vetted by such for naught
Logan Robertson
8/11/2018
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
She frequents here most weekend nights,Big **** long kegs, freaky appetite,Her eyes scan every inch of the club,Wet *** all hard and ***** to hell with love.She licks her lips, and warmly, her other lips respond,She sees her prey and grins at knowing this night will be long,They stroll towards her knowingly, they are the lucky ones,She straddles one, while the other mouth makes her come.Moaning ***** words, and writhing, her **** are bouncing freely,Two on one's her favourite, it makes her come so gleely,Her wet tongue finds something hard and veiny, she takes it in her mouth,Her stroking slips and slides make both guys moan and pant out loud.His ball sack dangles over her, she's begging for a suck,The other's fingers enter her, she loves a finger fuck,Her mouth fills up with pleasure juice, she comes onto his fingers,She licks it off, but takes her time,intent to make it linger...
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
the bitter wilt on droopy petals when yesterday
her tilt was to the sun strong as stems
could rise her sweet beauty to the skies
holding lips and arms and blossoms open
long enough for the breeze to romance
the nearest bee into a trance
is like the circle or a dance
of life that glances knowingly back
with wry amusement a sly smile glance
saying told you so so many times
you should have known by now,
old friend of mine,
time is really nothing
but your
foe.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
Maybe there resides a phoenix in you...
Yes YOU,
You, who tried to cut the veins and paint your hands red,
You, who finally decided to just give up on your life.
Maybe inside you there rested a piece of hope,
A hope that tells that Death brings peace,
And giving up, solves all your humane problems....
Is it because of this hope or this phoenix,
That we ordinary humans often end up destroying ourselves...
Sometimes unknowingly,
And sometimes knowingly...like you did.
The truth has always been
From destruction comes life...
But you were never the phoenix you so much longed to be...
You were in fact, just another container for petting it's soul.
From your destruction, there'll never be a new life....
You've just ended up in planting the phoenix in our souls.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 5:17 AM UTC
"Sadness is a place?" The heart questioned the brain.
"Sometimes." Answered the brain knowingly. "Sometimes, it's' a place for dwindling."
"--So when is it not a place?" asked the heart in a perturbed manner.
"When it's no longer needed, it will cease to exist." Replied the brain.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
I know it shouldn't matter at this date
Because relations are made on the net
But have you realized
Truly
Really
Realized how amazing having someone you care about around you?
When you are separated from your loved one for a long while, the first thing you do when you see them is
Hug them
Not kiss them
Not say "hi"
Not text it to your friend
Not post it on Facebook
You just hug the hell out of that person
Because humans need contact
We need what we deprive ourselves of knowingly
We hang by ourselves and think it's fine
It's not.
It's never okay.
Hug people
Tell them how you feel, de vive voix
Why linger around when anything could happen?
Tell them
Tell them all
And love them right
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
I adore you
With your forward brow,
Eyes of nightshade and black treacle.
Your image floats and unfurls in the ****** spaces
Between marks posed in gazette.
You stare back at me knowingly,
Cunningly,
As though watching the course of my life unfold.
You have stretched your hand through time
To let it fall in a cold gust across these pages,
Betwixt the folds of my cerebrum,
Your spectral lips prompting faintly
In the nook behind my ear.
-O goddess, O muse!-
O fellow soul…
You have found me.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
Softly, gently, I sipped
your red cherry-lip petals
patiently, silently, I grabbed
your brown nip-let buds
deeply, knowingly, I drowned
into your blue eye-oceans
The feminine body turns
to be a dates garden
amidst my own
barren desert !
Williamsji Maveli
Email: [email protected]
*
KGA (UAE Chapter)
Literary award for Poetry declared for
Williamsji Maveli’s “Arramviralthumbath…”
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's third poetry collection titled as “Arramviralthumbath …” (On the tip of the 6th finger, published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates. The award has also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named as “Maa Salama." ( means "With peace" in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches, focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years. Williamsji, (Williams George), former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for outstanding contributions to literature from the native writers of Kallettumkara, a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India. The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 10th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during September, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
hey, I'm
seeing spiders &
shadows & lights again &
there comes a point
in your life when
you realize
it's all this forced speech
about how
the weather is fine &
no one has died
that shouldn't have.
it's like sitting
in an unfamiliar bathtub
til the water goes cold,
knowingly just floating
in frosty clouds of your own filth,
that sick type of epiphany
that we're all just sad little
feeder fishes painted gold
that live to eat **** **** float
get old go blind become senile
then hopefully die
before anything too terrible happens.
happy ends.
unlikely.
high noon &
the horse flies are biting,
for the life of me.
if you find yourself dead
or alive.
they'll pay you for perfect timing.
so smile sunshine
the drain hasn't
swallowed you yet.
no problem no sweat.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
Oxygen is precious
and I continue to waste it
contemplating life
and the decisions I make in it
but I can't decide if it's
sadness or anger I'm filled with
I clench my jaw constantly
and I cry in my sleep
don't know what I'm worth
every day I'm reminded I'm weak
decisions decisions, a lack of ambition
or rather the strength to acquire
what I desire and I know
life is truly a lustrous haze
My soul wants to dance
whilst my heart wants to fight
inflicting pain on others
only to lessen my strife
my mind is a complex maze of thought
thinking we were gifted with intelligence
but now I get it, it's a curse to see
understand, realise and go on knowingly
that life is hard and the world is not fair
well I realised it young
so I can admit that I'm scared
the people that comforted me,
stood by my side, seem unaware
I hope people see something in me
because I don't
I see pain filled eyes when I wash my face
I connect with a reflection
that has felt my pain
I doubt everyone else is different
we're all ashamed
the circumstances differ but
the pain is the same
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
Once upon a time, Oh but that’s such a boring way to start-
Once upon a time.
I was little red riding hood that knowingly stepped
onto the wrong side of the path,
Hoping that a monster in the woods
would come and get me, but you-
A hurricane,
car crashes in slow motion,
personified heartbreak-
Too much.
Too much applesauce madam? The waiter asked, clean-shaven face bathed
In the New York skyline, ignorant to the gunfire explosions
inside me as I waited for you.
No thank you, sir.
“Meet me at the station”,
scrawled in messy, love- stained letters
In between the railway roars and the clatters of foreign accent, you've flaked again, like the struck chord of a bass
Signifying disappointment like a punch line
Reverberating through my skull.
Okay, repeat the mantra, one-two-steady-
Okay. It's Okay.
Four weeks later
I had your body pushed up flush against bricks and-
No shut up you don’t get to say anything after you go and shatter me like that
You’re sick do you know that? Lips snarling, heart breaking.
You’re sick.
So maybe I was the big bad wolf after all.
Stairwell bricks glinted off iridescence and
your mouth in that sad, sad laugh
Studying me like a dream brought
to the ground,
Puffy lipped and eyes blown wide like I was on some psychedelic high-
And you said
*“You’re still a child with fanciful ideas of love, and the way you cling onto them-
Quite frankly, it’s terrifying.”*
Please darling, let me redefine myself
Skip the pleasantries and small talk,
scrap the story of little red riding hood-
Once upon a time, I was apology and you were forgiveness
I can imagine inside you, of alarm bells and sunken souls
as you listen to the static white noise of
A dying heart
Hello darling, are you there? Can you hear me? Is this mic working?
I hate to sound like those magazine cut outs-
I hate to sound like,
Just another lover, just another cliché-
But you were the matchstick to my dynamite
and nothing feels better
Than my own self- destruction, so won’t you please
Another chance? No?
Even Lucifer sometimes longs to be let
Into the gates of heaven again
I’ve cooked some apology,
I saved a plate for you
So for the love of god come inside and have some before it goes cold.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
Socrates consumed Hemlock,
Cleopatra embraced the Asp,
Alan Turing ate an apple laced with cyanide,
I, like those before me,
Have picked my poison;
An absinthe-eyed, quicksilver-tongued boy.
He was unsettled when I answered with the truth of his query,
Yes, he is poison,
I knowingly and willingly consume every drop of him,
Not all toxicity is solely adverse,
Radiation treats cancer,
Venom in low doses is an antidote,
Ethanol relaxes muscle and numbs the emotions.
He is my poison and my antidote,
He is the corrosive acid that dissolves gear-stopping rust,
I, in kind, am the poison apple of his eye,
Or so he says,
And so, we two, bask in the destruction of ourselves,
Consuming each other's pain, insecurity, madness, and lust,
Why is it that he, a poison, is the one I trust?
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC