"mimics" poems
In Nero’s private stage,
Disaster was
His audience. Rome mimics fallen Troy in play.
What was reflected in Nero’s eyes
when he sang of the swirling patterns
of fire? When Rome was caught burning;
When conspiring led to its fall.
Fire engulfed Rome with fiery teeth.
The clouds hide or faint into black smoke.
The skies bleed heavily with rust
Its brassy color mixing with the
*** of burning seas, like oceans melting
Could you not feel the sun’s weight?
Now it is incomparable to
Molten seas and softened lead!
Blood spilt from sea-point, waves wallow the cries
Of the fallen. Like a bellowing sound marching
Against caverns of ears, Copper soldiers
Melt into clouds oozing with emotion,
Shattering their now empty metal hearts,
Hollow hearts that outlive the muteness.
It is awakened when
Spark and light is absent.
(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / June 26, 2009 - Alabang)
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
I wake up and eat some eggs, a yogurt, and a few slices of melon
in an attempt to change my life
after all it is that or death
I won't hold my breath
It's a beautiful day to head to the mall
with a friend
I really know where this is going
Hmm
I like that shirt
Oops, this store doesn't offer plus size
On to the next..
I really like these jeans..
Forty five dollars for sizes sixteen and up
What a mess!
Since I refuse to let Lane Bryant **** my wallet in the ***
I decide to head to Barnes and Noble instead
I accidentally bumped into a lady and her baby stroller as I walked past and she mumbled
"Fat ***** under her breath
Yes that's what she said
I didn't even turn my head
Because that's what the lady said
and that's what society says
and instead of trying to explain it's just
easier to walk away
it's the self hatred after I dread
So I buy a whole pizza and eat the entire ******* thing
and it is beyond delicious
though the guilt I feel afterwards wasn't worth it
and vomitting that **** up was viscous
Even when I was a little girl I dreamed of being thin
I dreamed of being a model
I dreamed of having a flat tummy
Just to fit in
I didn't like the belly I had
or the fat in my cheeks
I was the only kid in gym that could never climb the rope
and that began a string of anxiety attacks
that would last for weeks
The doctor calls it insulin resistance
which leaves me with the inability to lose weight
but I shouldn't have to explain to anyone my condition
I just shouldn't have to explain
not to mention the ovarian disease that cripples me to my knees
which so happens to be genetic
and mimics the blood of a diabetic
leaving me incurable
a medical mystery
not to mention infertility
so for me
children are just a dream
Although I tell myself
that I am beautiful
and that I am intelligent
and that I am funny
and that I am a hard worker
and that I am successful
and that I am caring
and that I am loving
and that I am daring
and that I am the best **** friend a person could ever have
To a stranger I'm just a "fat *****
and you know what?
That makes me really ******* sad
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
A choose your own adventure book
Mimics life so well.
If only I could have a look
At other stories life could tell.
I would peak into the different plots
Where reality would diverge.
I’d probably begin to notice lots
Of new problems which emerge.
Though curious, I’ll remain content
With this narrative I am in.
May the future me not want it
To be contrary to how it has been!
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."
"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."
"Time heals, steals and reveals."
"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."
"Help when you can. Pray when you can't."
"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."
"Instincts over impulse, always."
"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."
"Fear is a light sleeper."
"The devil is always looking for a dance partner."
"You can't change the past, but it can change you."
"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."
"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."
"Every tear has a name."
"Write your failures in pencil; your triumphs in ink."
"Hope is always listening."
"The best companion is your imagination."
"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."
"Scars speak every language."
"Only I think like me."
"We're remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."
"Every underdog wants to be top cat."
"Love never travels alone."
"Hindsight teaches when the test is over."
"Dreams reveal what memories conceal."
"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."
"You can't spell tragedy without rage."
"Intuition is your strongest ally."
"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."
"Never trust an idle thought."
"A wounded animal always shows its teeth."
"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."
"The past and future are distant cousins."
"We're all buried treasures waiting to be found."
"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."
"Temptation always invites itself to the party."
"Everyone's story has a secret."
"Scents and songs are nostalgic reminders."
"Time is a tattletale."
"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."
"Life is a dir†y fighter."
"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."
"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."
"Tomorrow is a wild card."
"My favorite exercise is sleepwalking."
"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."
"The ego is a phony friend."
"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."
"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."
"My train of thought has no conductor."
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
.
*Links in the chemist chain
laced in a double helix
defy the laws of the universe,
and the atavistic resurgence
creates isotopes of dream passion.
Elements conspire in panic
with a symmetry of casual chaos
that mimics an atomic bomb,
destroying its own creator
in a cruel parody of birth paradox.
Arresting the Iris of Dissolution
with cuffed anxiety drowning
in a pond of helium ore,
carelessly drifting on acid flesh,
coagulating in a soup of memory.*
And the paradigm shifts again,
reality unfocussed clears, strains,
revealing your shuddering form,
next to me, keeping me warm.
Lids flicker and you open your eyes,
shining, smiling in cute surprise.
Moving my finger up to my lips
whilst I gently untangle our hips.
*Do you remember this night?
Last night, tonight, tomorrow night?
Time begins to slowly rewind,
on the night you blew my mind.*
My essence is filled with your heart,
a love I have yet to discover.
Whilst you wander between the stars,
my universe starts to recover.
So please don't break this silence now.
Please don't shatter this moment long,
I want this post ****** memory to remain
in the morning when you have gone.
© Pagan Paul (04/11/17)
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
your body, the drain plug,
that climactic days of a day
murky sweet strawberry milk water
ebbs and sways
around, surrounds, and surmounts you
Your body the dumping ground
for pretty poppy seeds
seep, steep
seeded somewhere deep
as
synthetic stinging metaphor rain
pours on your mistreated singing skin
spotted, dotted, synaptic rule
akin to lemon poppy seed muffin tops
your head- a top
spins round
and mimics
never-ending bath drain whirlpool
ambulances and ambivalences soundtrack
this nocturne
night of a morning
mourning already
my poor lost sister
a little less than intact
lost in her head
I'm loosing her
and she's nodding
and she's nodding
and she's nodding
and she's nodding
and she nods
and grumbles,
fumbles for words that aren't there
four words that aren't there
forward isn't there
because what do you say
about matters
when your high
and breathing last breaths overlapping
in humble showers
in heart crumbling nakedness
your faithlessness trapping
murky sweet strawberry milk waters.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
There's a shadow hanging over me
belonging to the me
I was supposed to be.
I squirm to lose this shadow
because it is following
a ghost of me.
Looming languidly and large
it mimics my movements with melancholy.
I hide in the dark
so it won't find me.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
you hold me with a grasp that aches to let go
that hates that I let it know that i’m leaving
Your arms begin grieving
Refusing to let go of this fleeting
Moment
The energy you surround me with
so potent
So intense
The kind that gives one notions
The kind that causes me to question every motion
I make
Every romantic idea I create
a facade
So intense
With little motion
And the sense
Of calm
You yawn
I gaze at your slumber
and my fawn hands caress your umber burnt skin
and i begin to listen,
to your heartbeat at its proper pace
as my aching heart mimics it, they begin to race
my eyes dance around your face
As you pull me deeper into your embrace
You hold me
as your snores begin to scold me
you unfold me
i become open to you
as i review ever subtle movement
my body soothes when
you hold me,
how I refuse to hold myself.
i whisper very boldly
to myself, i love you
but only discreetly
while you’re sleeping
because only while we’re dreaming
does this all feel so possible
does this type of love
and sensuality
and affection
feel probable
so i lay
and i wait
for you to awake
i wait in this space
for you to gently place
your lips on my forehead
for your warm embrace.
for clothes to replace
your warm embrace in its stead
for our little visit
to come to an end.
you release me with that grasp that aches to let go
that hates that, I let it know that i have to leave it
Your arms begin grieving me
the romanticism begins fleeting me
i reach over to kiss you
one more time
and in turn you reply
“i love you”
my heart did not know what to say
or what to do
it could not take any less of you
only anymore
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 6:49 PM UTC
*
Complicated right and wrong,
human mistakes gone prolong.
hard to stop when truth hides
from many unseen lies.
Corruptions & conspiracies
Mimics love for money.
Population demands increase
and supply decrease.
Shortage of goods from over consumption.
Rare find in a brink of extinction.
*
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
Waking up to hazy mornings.
To the bitter cold days of
Early Spring.
I've never seen such a beautiful sunrise.
Nine o' clock cigarettes during
The morning rush.
Saturday morning cigarettes
That muddle my head.
The chilly air mimics the smoke
Spewing from my lips,
Toxins sticking to my lungs
Like glue.
It's another day in Paradise.
The dishes in the sink
Pile up in mountains.
Like the skyscraper laundry stack
Overflowing in the hamper.
Just another day in Paradise.
The street lamps glisten as strings of pearls
Their light reflecting off the silver glare of traffic barrels.
The flowers have not arrived.
The flowers have not bloomed,
And the anxiety is killing me.
Killing me like the coffee craving
Pounding in my head.
The flowers are missing,
Hiding from the stinging cold
Of early Spring.
I've never seen such beautifully dismal skies.
In the mild conversations about the weather,
I tell them that it's never been better.
In a way, it's never been.
I walk down the battleground of sidewalk
And tree roots, the slabs of concrete
cracked and marred by Mother Nature's
Will.
Broken etchings of hopscotch
Blur on the gritty surface, besides
The rose bush peeking out through the
Fence.
They'll never fix these.
Because it's another day in Paradise.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Heart tormented throughout the age
Seeing nothing but destruction
Cruelty the best of the worst
Scarred for life
By a mother's emotional abuse
Never feeling comfortable around men
Afraid of anything more indepth than ***
Finding a nonjudgemental man
Thinking to repairing the past
Unknowingly mimics the mother
Finally swept away off the feet
Married, optimistic of the future
A child born early
New mother now turns the page
Happy as can be
Hormones a woman's curse
Cause heartache and despair
Mixed with the abuse of the past
Trying to over come
Badly, wanting to be good
Years pass by like rain
Flooding the family as it grows
No desire felt, yet in love for sure
Lost, scared
Self preservation reigns high
Sins of the mother passed down
Sharp tongue, quick wit
Cutting deeply through the love
Wants despartely to want, need
Tries to hang on to give not take
Illness prevails
Striking down
Hormones and desire all put aside
Attempts to reach out
Just cannot
You stop trying and give up
It gets worse
Make it stop mommy
Don't leave Daddy
Tear paint the canvas
Have I been so cruel
Ungiving and cold
Cirumstances piling up
Body becoming older
Beggs and pleads to try to fix
Isn't just a cold hearted woman
A beautiful soul inside
Just needs nourishment
Don't turn away
Don't toss tthis lifeaway
Not into the trash
Try harder
Meet a quarter of the way
Whatever you decide
Please Don't turn away
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 1:36 AM UTC
Hell hath no fury like a toddler who wants it and wants it NOW
!
Screaming pulling and flailing…a reminder of how she was conceived in the first place.
Hell hath NO fury like a mother on her last straw!
So close to breaking that camels back
.
Though there feels like there is no other emotion as strong as fury when you are just…
You just can’t.
You need a minute.
You collect yourself, or at least try, because who else is going to make that hamburger helper you despise so much?
You step back in the room scattered with death traps that play those oh too familiar songs
And the storm...has calmed.
You huff a sigh of epic proportions releasing the stress of the eternity that just passed,
(Which is equal to about 10-15 normal people minutes.)
and she mimics you with the grin of innocence a hundred times over.
You sit there staring at this exuberant life form you’ve created and you can’t help but wonder if it’s all real.
You notice, for the thousandth time how much she looks like you.
You notice for the millionth time how much she means to you.
Hell hath no fury compared to her admiration and love for me…
And my love for her.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Waking breath ghostly frozen, clang of pot-belly stove opening, cedar crackles good morning, sap sizzles, pops, melting. Warmth finds children sleeping, humid air, mouth-breathing. Smell of boy sweat and feet, young women ripely sweet.
Cats purring, stirring, padding quiet down stairs, weave meowing through mom's legs. Dented percolator burbles better days, snap of toast burned haze, molten mush bubbles burst, fade. Birds early on the highway Paradise-seeking, time, flash-burned, fleeting. Cobalt jay mockingly complains, chickadee sings his own name, coyote wails, thin and plain.
Children rise, sleep in their eyes, squabble over bathroom prize, eldest wins, click, locks herself in. Hurry, hurry the bus is coming, ancient driver, annoyed and honking. Brown-bag lunches crinkled running, feet slapping, seats squeaking, lungs hot and bursting. Ride the dawn breaking, hearts aching for more than this, rural bliss.
Stop sign flashes caution, young lovers in the back seat, bodies in motion. Stop, start, sway on down the highway. Engine mimics hot blood lust, accelerated diesel rush, nothing can stop us. You grab my knee - young, carefree. Brakes sigh and hiss, sneak one last kiss. You mouth - meet me later, we'll sneak out, rush to a future we haven't got, ready or not.
The old road at dusk, frog song accompanies us, bike wheels on the asphalt hum, forbidden moonlight run. Feel your heartbeat on my spine, frantic drumming matching mine. Horned owl hoots, forlorn and bleak, a premonition we refuse to heed, reckless with need. In the clearing young love begins, forget-me-knots on burning skin.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Grasping her every arm,
In unowned mittens and scarf.
Tattered, the eyes red as Mars.
Though all she can do—
Is gaze to peoples jewel afar,
And wonder in optimum.
The best possible way to omit;
A lifelong scar of tantrum.
An infinite tribulation mimics.
Mediocrity sneaks to pry.
Uncanny euphoric figments,
Biding the year-end tide.
To lay undone ashes of shame.
She mourns a winterscry.
Putting off the endless dolor,
Till death ends that butterfly.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC
my conscious,
a spec on the corner of the Polaroid lens,
a heart lost in the reeds of dampened circumstance,
a hydrangea blooming in an untended field,
meditates upon itself
like a child lost
in a superstore.
--
an ocean wave mimics its predecessor
only to fall victim to aspiration.
what will crush upon my tired bones
as they chase sunsets
in a similar search
for meaning
?
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 10:53 PM UTC
Don’t ever trust her!
She’s using you.
And when she’s done-
All you’ll have is bite marks and pain.
She’s a cobra on the inside.
She keeps her friends too close.
If they ever find out what she really is,
She figures it out and pounces at them.
Bite mark after bite mark.
Venom stuns the bodies of victims past.
Some say she mimics the emotions of others;
To find out how to bring them in.
But never fall for this.
For you will be just another meal.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
really hot days
remind me of my home
the one across the sea
with mangos ripe on the vine
and yellowed grass
if I close my eyes,
i can almost taste the dust in the air
feel the warm embrace of my family members
that i miss so dearly
smell the petrichor off the hot cement floor after a fresh monsoon rain
time zones apart feel like worlds apart
and they are
when your family is dying
and there is no way to comfort your aunt
because her husband is taking his last breaths
there was no chance for her to say goodbye
to her father, to her husband,
both lay in hospitals
continents apart
isolated, but not unloved
both gone, not even a month apart
the borders have been closed for i don’t even know how long
there is no physical way for us, let alone her own children, to be present
all we do is wait
most of my memories are spent on
drinking chai on the veranda
or dancing in the rain with Papa
playing holi with pails of water mixed with “gulal” and water pistols.
seeing the smiles of all my family members,
together once again.
really hot days
remind me of my home
smoke from the wildfires mimics the smog in the air
the sun - a red ball in the grey sky
if i shut my eyes real tight
i can still get a glimpse of us on the rooftop, celebrating life.
Jan 7, 2022
Jan 7, 2022 at 11:15 PM UTC
If god was a real person ,
I'd sue .
For floppy ***** ,
And gaping eye sockets .
Misplaced fat pockets
Stretch marks and paranoid doobs.
For photoshopped pictures
And singles mixers
And never being able to properly chew
My words Before I spit them out
For men that don't ask before they mount
And for all the doubt .
For protesters in front of abortion
Clinics and mimics .
And being more creative without your adoration .
For false salvation .
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Humans are constantly creating
with authenticity.
We have been given the universe-
an abundance of awesome things:
Mysterious monsters of oceans deep
and birds ornamenting trees.
We take these gifts
with mindfulness
and show
what we’ve perceived.
Now the computer
has
become the creator.
But humans
created the machine.
Without our perceived
realities,
the robot has no things.
Nothing to analyze,
digitize,
and pixelate on screen.
It can’t channel feelings.
It can’t express its needs.
It just mimics what it really means
to be
a
human
being.
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 2:10 PM UTC
it all starts to blur together and every day fades further from the horizon.
every word uttered, every smile grinned, every surface touched
falls short from the whole when not lead back to you.
I haven't recognized my name since it was last spoken from your mouth.
I haven't let my hands float above the sunroof as I've traveled down each lonely highway, stretching farther away from you.
I haven't exhaled all the air in my lungs or been able to relax all the tension in my muscles from their constant preparation for the crash-
waiting on standby only makes the blow more painful.
I haven't been able to swim in the ocean without feeling your love.
you're like a tide, pulling me back and shooting me out again, crashing over my body with immense pressure, yet so soothing- coating every cell on my body with liquid- you pour over me and drown me whole.
I haven't been able to sleep the same.
Every time they ask me how I'm doing or if I still love you, I mutter about the "not enoughness" and the lack of, while staring at my hands, trying to retrace the last time i ate a full meal or fell asleep for more than three hours.
The one thing I run back to kills me like a bullet, firing all the way through:
The smoke in my lungs mimics the breathlessness I felt when you choked my throat
It's turning me to ashes,
but I choose to not get better.
There's some correlation between the way your existence has haunted me like a ghost,
Sticking to my skin like all this inhaled smoke,
Demanding for the light to be left on in case you wander from the unknown-
Back to your garden, your chokehold, your throne.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
Lars lifts opens the toilet seat. The hinge squawks and he mimics the sound with his mouth. A dumb smile folds out on his face like someone unrolling a beach towel. He sits without dropping his pants or underwear. The cops are just about to leave through the screen door. Maggie offers a departing sacrament of right out of the oven of crispy flakey Pillsbury biscuits. They wave their hands parallel to the ground refusing. Maggie pulled the biscuits out too early. The bottoms are tan and dimensional but the tops are sloppy. They look like they have a glaze but they don’t have a glaze. They are pasty but still hot to the touch. The pan is hot. Maggie is wearing maroon oven mitts. One of the cops gets his foot snagged on the throw rug. They walk with their heads down but don’t notice the curled edges of the throw rug. They notice a black pug named Roger instead and nearly avoid fumbling over him. The cops scatter outside quickly like ducklings crossing the street. Lars’ dumb smile lingers and he laughs with a shushing lisp. He reaches between his legs into the toilet bowl. His hand disturbs the water. His nose is bleeding. Maggie closes the doorwall after the cops leave. The cops left the screen open. Maggie reopens the doorwall, closes the screen, shakes her head, and then closes the doorwall again. The kitchen is humming with improper wires. The light is electric pastel blue. The linoleum is too ***** to sleep on. Maggie’s ******* can be seen through her shirt. Lars wipes his nose with his arm and shoulder. He is hunched digging into the toilet bowl. He pulls out a baggie with a twist tie on top. The baggie looks reused. Maggie enters under the frame of the door and her lips roll out like a beach towel. The ******* in the baggie is very very dry.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
to her thighs....
my taste buds
so eager to say hi,
if I was asked to describe
I'd say just look
outside, Around the
time... when the moon
was destined to hide and
air conditioners kidnapped
the space windows and their
sills used to collide
While i strive, tongue
kicks a lure for her
sweet surprise.... That
collapse in time mimics
the anticipation of a
hydrant's refreshing
jolt when it's hot outside
her satisfactions
introduction feeds me
the thrill of that last
day of school during
dismissal time, freedom
for what seems like forever
it's two month limit always
fled past your mind
When she divides
and reveals the treasures
her structure was built
to hide... My taste buds
reunite with the flavors
of summertime
taste like summertime
© 2014 viewtifulink
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
Ever wondered what it's like,
To be the silver lining to my cloud,
Amidst the cold winter's howls,
To lock eyes with your sweet brown eyes,
Feel their warmth
As they wrap around you like a blanket,
Engulfing you in their safety.
To be the only elixir of love,
That mimics the joy of the sun.
Good morning my sunshine;
The love of my life.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC