"maru" poems
I remember that Day when we sat
(side by side)
On those Stairs
(Waiting for our Train)
And you bought us Miso Soup
(It tasted like Tears)
The Sun hit my legs
(With all the force of sepia toned Nostalgia)
Covering them, bathing them. glorifying.
The traffic was the push and pull
(To and fro, magnetising, Synchronising)
Of waves.
Harsh, solid, mechanical waves
(Full of the force of Human Atrocity)
Japanese Culture was "in" and everything was "kawaii" and sweet
(With the underlying disturbance of Sexualisation - *** takes pride of place in our Civilisation)
I thought I was eating the sea.
(I could see the tiny fish Nibbling us that time we went snorkelling. We saw a Sting Ray that reminded us of Steve Irwin: Danger; Barbed Wire)
The Snow-flakes
(Fish-flakes)
Swirling in the snow globe of my Polystyrene Cup
(A new kind of Fish Bowl, A new Exposure)
And they swam around and around, Hiding
(Cyclical, controlled by Lunar Activity. Natural?)
If I stared hard enough I would, no, could see myself
(Floating, Filleted)
Amongst those Ribbons of Sea ****
With each Salty slurp
(That tasted of you, of the bitter Crust that Crowns your body in Heat)
I expected saltier Bladders to Burst in my Mouth
(Drowning me in Poison; Poisson)
I imagined the Japanese fisherman Catching Sun-Warmed Sea
(In a Polystyrene Cup)
The thousands of fish, tiny eyes that Blink, tiny gills that Palpitate - Suffocating in Air
(Aboard his boat, that Famed boat: "Daigo Fukuryu Maru")
Harvesting Silken Strands of Sea **** that Clung to its Crate
(In the same way that his Wife's Freshly washed Hair Twines about her Body. Static, Electric, Alive)
We didn't finish the Miso Soup;
It tasted too much of the Tears that I Cried.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
My gleaming white constellation class Starship
(My ***** white Chrysler K car)
was out on patrol near the neutral zone
(I was driving back home from the bar)
It was then I received a distress call
(I urgently needed to ***
Some Klingons decloaked in proximity
(I sped past a cop car or three)
I called for more speed from the engine room!
(My transmission started to shake)
Klingons pursued in the neutral zone
(They motioned to me HIT THE BRAKE!)
“What seems to be the Tribble, Officer?”
I said to the humorless Gorn.
That Klingon impounded my vehicle
(They caught me exceeding Warp Nine)
If Kirk faced this “no Win” situation
He’d probably get off with a fine.
Dam Klingons!
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 8:52 PM UTC
My lovers have always been like cough drops.
Sweet, soothing, addicting even,
but never enough to solve the problem.
Never enough to clear my damaged throat.
And I don't know if you'll be any different.
From how we started,
it seemed as if I was in for another dose of
acesulfame potassium,
but there's something about you.
That makes me think
you'll be more like a cigarette.
Instead of sweet,
you'll be bitter.
But you'll make me woozy at my first drag,
and mellowed out for the duration.
You'll make my otherwise shaky personality
smooth.
But like rain in the summer,
you won't last long.
At least, I don't think.
There's also something about you
that makes me
want to tell you everything.
You're like a priest,
and I'm in the confessional.
I wouldn't confess my sins to anyone,
but you...
I just might.
What is it about you, huh?
Is it your boyish charm?
Your people skills?
Or is it something more menacing?
Maybe you're a psychopath
who's been studying me and my tells
to see how to get me to open up.
Maybe you're a serial killer and I'm your next victim.
I won't lie, I don't trust easy.
Maybe you're a perfectly good person,
and I just fell in love abnormally quick.
Maybe you really do love me.
But there's something about you I don't trust.
Something about you
that makes me want to run
and never look back.
You have something of a record when it comes
to girls' hearts,
and I'm not so naive as to forget
what you did to Maru,
but I can see
why they forgot to warn me
about you.
It's almost as if
you cleaned their mind
of all the atrocities you've committed.
But I won't be so easily tricked.
I won't forget what you've done.
I won't lie and say I don't love you,
because I do.
I love you with my whole heart.
But, I will not let my guard down.
I will not let you so close
you will never break my heart.
'Cause baby, you ain't no cough drop.
You're a black mamba
in the chicken's coop.
But darling, I'm the farmer
with the gun to your slick little head,
finger on the trigger,
ready to fire.
Do don't underestimate me.
Don'y you dare underestimate me.
'Cause I'm a **** assassin with my aim.
And I'm not gonna miss.
So tread lightly, little snake.
Don't bite my chickens
or swallow the eggs
and I won't shoot.
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
fingertips on back
tracks following the prints
of kisses planted neatly
offering silent hints
breathing in the scent
of our raw human perfume
which cannot be replicated (or bottled)
beyond the walls of our room
longing to brush the soul
if even ever-slightly
i beg for embrace
but connection once like mail
is now broken
closest comparison being the unity of pads of feet
the soles touch physically when souls cannot
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 7:50 PM UTC
Burnt lungs
and
crippled thoughts--
they haunt every
moment of your
hours
and minutes
and seconds,
putting you
on the brink
of insanity.
-maru 03/08/2017
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 6:17 AM UTC
I don't want this to be a love poem
I don't want to tell you in ink what I can't say in words. I don't want to talk about him and my emotions or the hesitation that comes with uncertainty. I don't want to say anything about our mouths or how they're never close enough.
I don't want to talk about his hands
I don't want to tell you how I've looked at them and imagined, not simply them touching me like I've longed to be touched, not them belonging solely to me, but perhaps intertwining our fingers sometimes. I don't want to say that I have the strongest abhorrence to seeing those hands touch anything else. That isn't fair. He isn't mine.
I don't want to talk about his eyes
I don't want to tell you what color they are, how they shine. I don't want to give you metaphors and compare them to landscapes much bigger and things more consuming. I don't want to give you a road map to how I last got lost in them. I am not a starry eyed romantic, even if in the right light he looks like one.
I don't want to talk about his hair
I don't want to tell you about the others running their hands through it, or how it irks me. I won't tell you about how I look away or pretend to be busy. It isn't fair to be jealous of what I fold my hands in my lap not to touch. It isn't fair. I'm being fair.
I don't want to talk about his voice
I won't tell you how it's transcended music, that if he spoke for hours I would never be bored. How it is comforting enough to lull me to sleep... me! The most distrusting person in a room at any given time! How it pulls at me to respond with words I've never offered to another soul. It isn't fair. It isn't.
I don't want to talk about him
I won't tell you how he makes me want to paint walls with his likeness, waste time and ink and memory to write and store poems that won't see the light of day. I want to keep this close. I don't want to share what I feel with anyone. I don't want to share him with anyone.
I don't want to tell him I love him
I don't want to lose him. I don't want to share what I feel but I don't want to share him with anyone. It's a Catch 22. A lose-lose scenario. There is no happy ending. The doubt I feel is realer than the hints he leaves, it makes the fear larger than the possibility of happiness. This is the cycle, this is the life I live.
I don't want this to be a love poem.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC
How further will soon be away?
These sleepless nights keep me thinking
How much will be the price to pay?
Just to regain what is missing
I can remember all those nights
When we traveled to other worlds
Dwelling upon the wondrous sights
Inches of emotions unfurled
I miss you so much, it pains me
To think how we are so apart
Much unlike how we used to be,
Together from the very start
It hurts how I can’t do anything
Or at least try to be with you
I really can’t for the time being
But indeed, my feelings are true
I miss you
I really do
And now I lay here thinking,
If you feel the same way too.
-Maru
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
Look into my eyes,
And see if I didn't.
Let me hug you tight,
And tell me if I won't.
Let me hold the warmth of your hand,
And say if you feel I don't.
Search the inner calculus of my mind
Venture the hidden caverns of my heart
And voyage on the turbulent seas of my soul
Do everything in your might
Just to find yourself a "No."
Flay my skin
Crush my bones to dust
And make a tonic of my blood
Make me walk on live flames
Squeeze me dry
And hold to trial every bit of mine.
Turn me inside out
Until all that is left of me is a mouth.
A mouth to ask,
Have you found your "No"?
Or have you found my answer?
A voice that speaks,
Not the slightest bit of me exists
That would give you a no.
For I did love you
I still do love you
I really really do love you
And forevermore, remember, I always will love you.
And in that last moment
When and whence nothing is left of me
I shall lay my answer to your question.
Yes.
I do...
I love you,
Keziah Maru.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
Sometimes I look in a mirror
and my own eyes crack open
the weakness falls from outside the ducts
because every time I look my heart is broken
why? to be more accurate I'm sick.
both physically with this **** cold I can't seem to shake
and of myself, because it seems to be my fate
I want to reinvent, recreate myself in a whole new way
I want to be a leader, not just more dead weight
A burden, that's what I've become
I can't even write anymore without a mentally loaded gun
to the side of my head, I have to bully myself to write things down now
somehow I need to try again and find out
where I went wrong where my confidence and pride has gone
it's been too long since I looked at the mirror and tears didn't fall
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Eyes that could not be juxtaposed with earths deep yet mesmerizing waters.
skin that could not be compared to a silkworms softest of produce. Hair that blends within the nights dark wonder and mystery.
A smile that not even the gloomiest could resist.
for she is life,
she is reason,
she is love,
she is,
Maru
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC