"repelled" poems
They came for us with tanks and guns.
We stood our ground—the old and young.
All our troops had mustered round
our Capital--Sacramento town.
A New Republic, we’d declared,
and its defense,
among all would be shared.
With the Bear Flag flying high
we all came to fight and die.
Young men in their combat boots
repelled the dictator’s first wave of troops.
Civilians came from South and North
to resist the fascist ruler’s force.
From Frisco and from San Jose,
from San Diego and L.A.,
from Calistoga and Marin,
thousands had come pouring in.
Then US bombers burned the city,
for the orange Fuhrer had no pity.
They won the battle, but we all know
from history, how these things go.
An occupation cannot last
against a people whose strength holds fast.
The tyrant’s troops will tire, while we
will fight on, until we’re free.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
like a fish out of water
walking backwards upstream
grand illusion of compliance
buying nothing sight unseen
respecting their essence
detached from their path
connected in spirit
repelled by all wrath
norms without ethics
morality sans love
passion ever searching
a need to rise above
heart sinking hatred
mind numbing neglect
mountain moving greed
rarely circumspect
not infrequently i ponder
how my being was unfurled
wondering deeply in my soul
if i belong to another world
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
On the bank of a rushing brook
I sat for hours watching its course.
Peered into the clear gurgling mass
That cascaded down from a mountainous source
Like a slithering snake, it slinks and slips
It babbles downhill night and day
Rolling and gliding through plains and dales
It winds its way to the wider bay.
Dipping my fingers in its icy chill
How my hand got repelled as from a shock!
In its ripples stirred by the kissing breeze,
I saw trees, clouds and the jutting rock-
All floating in queer, fanciful shapes,
Shuddering, trembling and standing still
And the fishes leaving zigzag trails,
Swishing and swimming in the winding rill.
As I quietly watched her speedy flight
With her ***** rising in mournful heaves,
In my ears fell her whispering soft
Orchestrated by the rustle of quivering leaves
I hardly knew the time speeding by
Nor noticed the birds’ homeward flight
Or the Sun moving to the west end side
And the Sky reddening at his sight
As the brook thus continued her headlong ride
To be mingled finally with the ocean wide
I walked, brooding over man’s relentless stride
To be merged eventually with the Cosmic Guide.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
One heart,
born in whole,
Free from all captivity.
Not a slave,
nor care,
Beating for one,
Myself.
Two hearts,
one of the other,
made to feed and grow.
Beating for me,
Mother.
Torn hearts, inseparable, separated.
Lost to the world,
by choice of deception.
The curse begins.
The seeking heart,
Beats for another.
One piece lost,
Destined to recover.
Absent of nurture,
Wicked, wicked,
Stepmother.
Repelled, repulsed, shamed.
Uprooted,
over and over again,
Homesick.
Adulthood,
weirdness and awkward.
With a childs desperate heart.
Hopelessly hopeful,
Helplessly lost.
Found love,
Beautiful love,
lasting love.
My lover,
Deception, infidelity,
Another piece lost.
The cycle continues.
The seeking heart,
Desperate to replace,
What was lost long ago.
Ten times over.
Realization, awakening, awareness.
This piece left,
Peace of heart,
Beats for one,
It's my own.
No longer captive,
Nor a seeking slave.
This last piece,
Freed for me.
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 10:47 AM UTC
I'm a simple electron.
And, although I have my quarks,
It's usually a persona I don,
Pretending I enjoy meaningless talks.
See, I was once in a pair,
With a fellow electron.
And, although it was difficult to bear,
The laws of physics ultimately won.
The closer we got,
The more we repelled.
When she was ionised, it hurt a lot,
She left, regardless of how much I held.
She soon paired with another,
Leaving me to start a bond.
It was my emotions I tried to smother,
Of myself, I was certainly not fond.
For a while my thoughts were scattered,
My emotions being forced up and down.
But none of that really mattered,
As I soon met another who would invert my frown.
You see, she was a blinding photon,
And when we met, she certainly did excite me...
And, just like my friend the boson,
I hope you don't take this lightly.
She perked me up a couple of energy levels,
Until she pulled me out of my shell.
Now, together, we're quantum rebels,
I'm a simple electron, and this is the story I tell.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
I met Mother Taro once,
She is an angel you know
I saw her in the greenery of
John Pia's Taro Patch.
She dawned the past, the present
and the future
More plant than woman,
and yet more root than angel wing--
Though her heart shaped wings
Repelled water as well
as any albatross or nene.
A rare bird in spirit.
She shared her plight to me
Of this modern time,
Watching the changes
In the faces of human kind
She remembers being a Goddess
And providing for all the people
In a time where she
traveled with the people
Over waters near and far
In double hulled canoe
To share her spirit
With new families.
And now, she feels like a myth
Told and retold by the elders
Alive more in the memories
And less on the land.
As she spoke, the message
Became more and more clear.
When might and power and greed and money
Seem of more value than
Root, wing, earth and pluck
We must take the time,
take the time
To tend each keiki and tend with care
So they may multiply
In healthy soil, water and air
So We the Living
Can live into eternity
For the winds of time
Will spite the might,
She said.
Seize this time
Seize this day,
Seize this moment
to tend
We the Living.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
if i swallowed a magnet
would i be more attractive?
but the problem is
many people feel unattractive
so what happens when the people
who are unattractive swallow magnets?
the ones that appreciate the most
and see the best in people
will be repelled.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
I will never understand this feeling
It's a feeling of worthlessness, is it not?
I will never understand its emptiness,
Though I know it too well
Dare I say, I want to fall in love
Again?...
Would It help me to understand,
In ways I can no longer?
I'm aimlessly placing blame
(I don't feel real)
The tip of my finger repelled by,
The denial in my heart
How can something so heavy
Be worn on a sleeve?
Whilst the skin on my body,
Would tear at its seams
I am the worst of all things
I am man-made
Sadly I feel as though, not made to last
And sadly so, I'm afraid to know
I may never make it past,
This feeling
Two months now it's eaten away
It's not a chemical reaction
There will be no half life here
And more than half my fear,
Lies in a reality where,
I can not be free from this
It's a feeling of worthlessness, isn't it?
I am an apple eaten to the core
No
I am the pips spat out
...and forgotten
I just want to be carried away
I want to be more than man-made
I just want to be Finley, Finley again
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
When I was ten I used to believe some pretty silly things
I believed my sister when she told me
That marshmallows were made out of whale blubber
I believed that all the monsters in the world
Would totally be repelled by my covers
I believed that taking 40 baby aspirin would **** me
And I only found out it wouldn’t after I tried
When I found out that other than a stomach ache
I was left completely fine
I first attempted suicide at the age of 10
And I don’t know if that’s where anyone else has been
But I really ******* hope not
I found out at age 14 that monsters, real monsters
Are the ones who actually slip under your sheets
Plucking out your innocence before you can even realize
That they are monsters that will hold your hand as they **** you
Make you believe that you are okay
But 4 years down the road you still won’t be able to breathe or concentrate
When you hear their name
Or when the anniversary of the day rolls around
You won’t be able to choke out any sound to ask for help
You can no longer let people in
Afraid they will blow you up like a balloon just to pop you with a razor sharp pin
I wish I could go back to believing in the silly things
I wish I could go back to flying in my dreams
Instead of drowning and being ripped at my seams
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
*Our earth has turned
Our lives are torn
We are able to see light no more
If only for a second we shine bright
We are reminded of our destiny
That of which is death
We strive to survive
We strive to stay alive
Being surrounded with demons of flesh and bone
Demons who are torn
Tattered
Look defeated but are actually reborn
Reborn through blistering scorn they rise
Their numbers are growing
We do nothing for god is showing
Showing his hatred for our kind
Showing his secret and sacred mind
We scream
We cry
For he gives no sympathy
We scream
We die
For he gives no sympathy
They feast off our loved one's limb by limb
We hear their screams as he dies
As she dies
No goodbyes
Just demise
Torn eyes
Black skies
Reaching at us from above tearing our hope from our chest
Our dreams as we rest
Our lives as we suppress
Suppress who we once were
For that is no more
Only for so long can we hide our screams
We will be found
We will be desecrated
Piece by piece
Our mothers torn and brothers death through scorn
Our wives see blood and flesh before being reborn
Now one of them they fight it but only postpone
Postpone the inevitable
The inevitability of turning
Turning from who you once were to a demon
Your birthdays
Weddings
Memories become waist
As you see through the devils eyes you hunt to feast
Inoperational your emotions become
Through the eyes of evil you become ****
No way out
Our end has begun
Our god has given up
On our petty existence we call success
Given up on the killing
The thievery
The ****
The pedophiles
This is why we die
This is why black takes our sky
Why evil is now his ally
Why we are ripped apart before we depart into hell
We become the hatred we once rebelled
The hatred we once repelled
Your children ask you why
Ask you why we have to die
You look into their eyes knowing they will once too be deleted
Deleted from existence
The tattered flesh and blood is insistence
Insistence of his wrath
While we beg to his knees
He returns to his kin with this disease
This plague
This is why we hide
The conquering he takes with pride
Vague emotions to hell we ride*
***This rapture has become our end
This rapture has become our end***
-Joseph B Schneider
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
My feelings on the world are a complex dichotomy. If I could control the world, my rule would be to control nothing. To give freedom and agency to everyone and let every culture and kind shine as they do and **** superiority and focus on growth, not **********
But, not all people aren't as communally minded as that. And though in theory I could change the rules, I can't change people.
In its own way, that's beautiful. The visceral strength and resiliency of humanity fascinates me, with the chaotic undertones that lie beneath every eye. I love the spectrum of pain and brilliance it brings. But it also makes a utopian world of understanding and lack of control impossible to keep people safe; because never will there be a human race that doesn't at least have some people craving absolute control.
I think this dichotomy within myself parallels my standing with humanity very well. There is something on most every end I can find fascinating: free will, selflessness, unpredictability, tenacity. But also I can never seem to be pleased with how humanity could be but never amount to.
Not that it gives me much trouble. I've always kept humanity at an arm's length, choosing books and stories over the flesh-bags in front of my face. The only thing I ever struggled with was not being normal with my human relationships, and trying to make my methods match.
My methods won't match because I might as well be an alien for all I care about directly interacting with humanity.
Yet, I love humanity, in a way. I could write about human transcendence and growth until I die. I am madly in love with human potential. But I don't love humans. I don't love a species that muscle arms its way into dominance and can be arrogant and small-minded. After all we've managed to accomplish, and we're still start wars over skin color and scapegoating? Its laughable, in a way.
I suppose I look at humanity as if I was an alien scientist. I have no way of measuring things or conducting research because I'm foreign, but I can see the greatness in their eyes and am floored by it. Yet I also see the violence in their eyes and am repelled by it. The most tragic, push and pull love of my life has been for this species.
I've learned lately I'm okay with being alien. But its strange to find a foothold in a world where I feel constantly at odds and different.
But I like strange, so I think its what works best.
Between humanity and me, things are complicated. Things are wonderful and painful and all worth the while in its own, ****** way. I suppose all I have is my words and I'll share them, and humanity can listen if it will. I hope it will. I hope it can help people who feel like aliens too, and maybe then being an alien and a human can be easier.
But for those things, we'll just have to see.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
Little Box talks back
With a new set of teeth
And pink gums
A fake nose and a wax mustache
She disguises her voice
To sound like Groucho
•
Little Box opens up
And cries to her psychiatrist
I don’t know why they hate me
I’m such a sweetheart
I volunteer at the zoo
And teach Mandarin
To their bratty children
•
Little Box is not happy to see you
So she closes herself up for months
Years, decades, and two millennia!
She tacks up a sign that says
Nirvana
•
Little Box is undead
She sleeps all day in a coffin
Hands over chest
At night she cruises the mall
For juicy victims
She prefers type A
But AB if she has to
What can you say
Vampires can’t be choosy
She likes your stupid brother
•
Little Box is on the psychiatry couch
Everybody hates me
Nobody loves me
Little Box lies on her side
And spills her guts
•
What’s in Little Box
A perfect orchid
A chocolate-covered strawberry
A new iPhone
With a glittery sleeve
Amber earrings from Pushkin
Keys to a new Porsche
A retro Chanel brooch
A Getty scion’s left ear
A Czar’s *****
Gifts so rare
Please don’t stare
•
What’s in Little Box
Rancid chow mein
A sliver of cold pizza
Last week’s hummus
You’re a starving orphan
From East Brooklyn
And you’ll eat it
•
So you want to **** Little Box
You want to know her secret
She won’t open up
She won’t give it up
And you are genuinely repelled
By her filthy ribbon
•
You want to DO the Little Box
You are a sorry story
You big creep
Why don’t you get off the couch and find
A real girlfriend!
•
Boss Box
White, square, and without a soul!
•
Please don’t analyze Little Box
She’s just cardboard clogging the landfill
Her mother Precious Jade Purse
Has been regifted
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
The acrid smell of darkness
"Permeates me"
I am surrounded by the skies
Of hell fire,
Brimstone,
Sulphuric,
Odours
Breathed as if air
Burning with each inhale,
This is a place of eternal penance
Why do I sit on a thrown of spines
Those around grovel
Hungry as if to taste my milk,
I look down, hot coals are under foot
My thrown room blacker than sin,
I am jested towards the window,
Torture,
Screams,
Souls
Bound to instruments, some scream in
Redemption, why'll others ask for more,
Broken, crazy lost souls that once
Screamed as the souls now bound to
"Smouldering coals"
I glance as heavy doors open,
Skin,
Bone,
Muscles
Entwined with black stitch
No words permitted,
As stich tightly woven
Upon blooded lips
I felt enticed at her vulgerness
She approached as if to touch my Hand, I
Repelled,
Declined,
Opposed
Her advances, I cut in to her muscle
she moaned as if ecstasy,
As black droplets burnt upon the floor
"She again ushered towards my hand"
I let her grip as she cut the
Stitches
From her bleeding lips,
"I smelt her breath"
A thousand souls decaying within her,
Breath
Exhaled,
Putrid,
Odour that was irresistible,
Lips meet, flesh burnt and the
Mists of what was clarity was ushered away,
My reaper of souls beauty of the underworld
I tasted with that kiss corruption, hatred
"He who shall never be named"
"At his tricks once again"
"I sit o my throne of spines"
My horns ignite once more
The light that shined briefly now
Extinguished,
Smothered,
Obsolete
Feelings from a place one stood upon,
"I am that which others need to fear"
As all will pay for this
"Moment of Clarity"
As I engulf souls, redemption
Is for above, below there is just hatred and misery
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
i have not tried to crash my car in nearly three weeks,
so i guess you could say i'm doing better.
my mind sometimes refuses to resist
the need for liquor that my body screams.
my lips are constantly searching for yours;
with every bottle i press against them,
i can never seem to find yours.
all of my jeans are too big now,
my ribs are prominent and my collarbones
sticking out like they are misplaced on my body.
i guess a diet of popcorn and stale cigarettes will
do that to you.
i find myself constantly tempting fate in the worst ways possible,
in a desperate yearning
to find you again.
i have gone absolutely mad from missing you.
i write poem after poem,
they are all unfinished.
hours later, i will read my words,
repelled at how they fail to do what i want them to.
i still sleep on the left side of the bed,
refusing to touch your side in fear that i will wake you up.
i swear sometimes i will wake up to the sound of you in the shower,
and then realize it's simply
the rain battering at my window,
mocking me.
i remember asking my mother
three weeks after the accident:
"will i ever laugh again?"
"of course you will sweetie,
when something is really, really funny"
that was the first and only time my mother ever lied to me,
and i know she didn't mean to
because she genuinely thought it to be true.
two years, three months and fifteen days have passed.
some things are really, really funny.
i do not laugh.
i only feel guilty that you are not there to laugh
with me.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
Breathing in, I dwell
deeply in this moment
Breathing out, I know,
it is the perfect moment
Breathing in, I see
it is an only moment
Breathing out, a moment
that's truly one of a kind
For appearances may
delude one into thinking
"This is nothing new
it has all happened before"
But the discrete events of THIS "now"
have never happened before
in precisely the same way
and they never will again
and though a moment may
be filled with pain or anger or despair
Just like the moment itself
these will also disappear
So too, a moment may
be filled with rapture, bliss, and joy
but as with the moment again
these will also disappear
Breathing in with this in mind
to what is there to cling?
Breathing out with this in mind
from what am I repelled?
Breathing in with this awareness,
I see each moment is a miracle
Breathing out with this awareness
a smile sweeps across the face
Breathing in, I'm here
Breathing out, I'm now
Breathing in I don't desire
Breathing out I'm free
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 3:16 AM UTC
Zenia Argos is tired. Tired to her ventricles, but still curious. She might possibly have told the right person on a certain type of night in the right kind of bar that she defined herself by her curiosity. Now she felt that her strange mind and her odd ways probably overwhelmed her and had thereby come to define her.
~^~
Zenia not only felt undefined, she felt amorphous.
Like a ghost in a black silk raincoat and black patent leather stiletto heels, she stalked through airports and the gutters of various cities. She forgot to ask herself meaningful questions. She forgot to ask herself any questions at all.
~^~
One day in some unbelievably high-numbered floor of a high-rise hotel in a city whose name she had forgotten she woke up in a luxurious enough bed with a body on the other side of it, face turned away from her. Her brain tossed up only this inane phrase, which repelled and fascinated her at the same time.
"Age has it's privileges"
First thought after that was a silly image of an actual ledge, outside of a high rise building such as the one she found herself in at the moment. With a cartoon cat and a cartoon Zenia fighting to stay on the edge, and comically slipping, hilariously falling, and hanging on, in fast forward and then reverse, and she lay there with her eyes closed and watched the vaudeville show for as long as it took to run through it's loop several times.
~^~
Then she wondered why she was thinking in perfume ad cliches, especially ones from decades, perhaps many decades ago?
This prompted her to jump, catlike, from prone, to alert, and holding her gun from beneath pillow, scanning the room.
Nope.
Not a perfume ad.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
People wobbling in the heat haze like a real time hall of mirrors
Street performers sing & flamenco & mime
The snap of digital cameras & excited chatter outside the cathedral
Sangria cold & fruity as it slides down easily
The tram glides past the beggars & hawkers
Gypsies’ curses in coarse andalucian as rosemary favours are repelled
Excited Asians watching every move Large Americans loudly exclaiming their delight as the light fades into dusk
Now the Feria comes alive all lights & ferris wheels & music so much music
Men on horseback women ride sidesaddle all in traditional dress
A throwback to a time before bailouts & austerity
Sing & Dance & Eat & laugh & joke
As dusk becomes evening the ottoman turrets light up
The cooler night air seems to remove inhibitions as people from different worlds celebrate humanity with cheers & smiles
Muchos Gracias & Bueno & Buena Noches in various accents fill the night as the spell is broken
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Steps these beginning steeps unavoidable the stains of water and mud clearly from Noah’s flood
Seeds crushed into the cracks from earliest civilization fiery ones left black shadows on the walls
Faint touches of red as clear as rubies square holes like those used in crucifixion could it be his blood
Beyond earths plain the steps are blocks of diamond burnished by the glory that brushed over them
Spirals that know no parallel in earthen design etched loves burning flame scenes of two worlds intact
The rise and fall of battles waged evil repelled the cost by sacrifice unto death they tread these steps too
From parapets of stone their souls ever bold made their way and vulcanized the heights adding impact
God called legions they left behind the puny Himalayas uncharted stars they pass still the steps rise
Rend me wool to hang among celestial worlds the maidens can weave this from mountain doll sheep
It will drape this spiral in great detail masters will add the flaming achievements a banner of honor to all
Hard places of the wall softened by showing perilous dangers overcame through eyes so fond that weep
Not one single foot will be lifted on this way who knows not the way of sorrow and pain only by this gain
The winds would tear you loose as you climb to those terrible heights the hands are steadied by might
Keep up the pace ever mindful of the race yours is not a level one but a crested one of brightest morn
The long days are fading all are nearing following those who from their climb know joy of almost flight
Look down look up these tiers look no stronger than thinnest silk not so this is an unbreakable ancestral chain your forbears forged that leads to heaven your place is add to this living chain
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
"I really wish I could love you."
"Don't cry. I'll be okay."
Her cold hands blanketed my cheeks, as warm tears repelled from finger to finger.
I looked at her, as her eyes changed from blue to green to blue again. "I don't want you to die, Reno."
"Dying can't **** me, Josh. I thought you knew better." Her eyes were green again, as her iris exploded into a wave of grey. She blinked and they were blue again, changing the room to an eggshell white. We sat on a naked mattress, in the middle of an empty room, my face resting on her soft shoulder. Only orange, dancing pill bottles kept us company. They'd tip their caps, like a hat, at the end of each song.
We swam in a teal sea, inside of four brick walls. Our mouths didn't move, but our voices travelled through air bubbles.
Doing an underwater backflip, the bubbles broke, "When did you first fall in love?"
Kicking off the floor, towards her, "I was twenty."
"How'd you know?"
"She gave me a cupcake and was trying to light the candle, but couldn't. She kept trying and trying. At that moment, I knew I loved her."
She swam towards me, her legs like ribbons waving at the surface.
"His name was Lee," she cooed as she started to drown, "I was seventeen and he open hand slapped me. I thought that was love. Then, eventually, he started to close his hand and then I knew that it wasn't. It didn't stop me from loving him with everything I had, though."
I reached for her as her legs were being pulled up to the surface. She opened her mouth, "You'll be okay. I promise."
My pillow was soaked by sweat as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The other side of the bed was empty. I turned my head to see the bathroom light peeking behind an indecisive door. Getting up, I walked around the foot of the bed and over the blanket dying on the floor. As I grew closer to the bathroom, the sound of retching clawed at my eardrums.
My hand pushed the door until the bronze **** kissed the wall. An alabaster body was on the floor. Reno's face appeared as she wiped her mouth. She flushed the toilet. I walked towards her, kneeled beside her, and hugged her as the sound of suction and spinning water drowned the air.
I whispered in her ear. She picked up head, out of my arms, and smiled, blue eyes and all.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
By following the light,
You will break yourself.
You will be punched and pushed,
And stretched to lengths
you never thought you could venture.
But you will survive.
The light saves you from that decaying part of you that would be your demise.
It heals you and makes you whole.
By destroying you,
and putting you back together.
***Tighter.
Stronger.***
--
*A new day,
A new person.*
You rise from the fire;
The flames lick your skin.
They feel warm,
And you feel rejuvenated.
You are reborn from fire, from the light,
And light you become.
--
The darkness is repelled by your presence;
You have broken free of your deficiencies.
By conquering your demons,
You have proved yourself above the dark.
The blackness is trapped beneath your feet,
It can never control you again...
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Pity for the whole world now. I wasn’t enough suffering. And when I’m in, the little things become sun. They shine in my direction and they are so strong and they are so meaningful and they are so blue and noticing them is my tragedy.
I can feel the smooth wind hurting my face, why are you so gentle? You are joy of sadness, my simple need to cry out all the thorns inside, to exorcise shadows, to forget the wounds, even if they are not cured. Because when I’m in there is a grieving unknown, I can smell her, and I can see her, and I become so desperate, and I take her for me, and I like her for a moment. Then I regret it.
I feel different now, I feel repelled, I feel blind, deaf and mute. I just feel us
I pity the whole world now, I pity her
I have to leave it for a while because I’ve just forgot the wounds. For how long?
05/2011
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
in the few moments
before dreamland crashed into reality
the skies glittered like cities of light
there was the sight of your bright eyes
admiring in the soft candlelight
the silhouette of your finger
tracing the constellations as
you shared a story of dusk and dawn
leading to the promises of a forever
which rolled from your tongue and became
the only words that ever mattered as much as the
"of course, i care," which you melded into lullabies
that repelled the terrors of loneliness
of wars in the heavens and monsters in the dark
your smile radiated light and
in the way your warmth surrounded me
you became young apollo
and i, your uncursed, loving daphne
May 24, 2021
May 24, 2021 at 10:20 PM UTC
I spend every day and every night
swimming through my sorrow,
stuck on a brittle boat
with my absent shadow;
and after all these months,
forgetting habitats,
destroying every pattern,
it has to be said:
I hate myself
and you should hate me too.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
Does she sound familiar to you
she is sound of familiarity between strangers
You can call her the vintage sound
The intrusion that can’t be ignored
Tick tock ,don’t save the last dance for later
Repelled from the future to stay away from the present
Her Pendulum swing in search of happiness
she said we all need the clocksmith to repair our broken piece
Polish and shine me all you want without my sound am nothing
she might be an unpleasing sound to a married ear
forgive her if she craves for attention ,getting old and rusted is not a perfect look
Tick tock sees herself in the mirror only her reflection was no more
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
when I sit in bed listening to the sounds of the city outside my window
I feel like I owe it a poem, creativity, something beautiful
to eternalize it's beauty in someway
the sounds of cars speeding through the bridge at 3:34am
souls repelled and pulled by the never-ending enigma that is the city
the heels of woman clacking across the cement, finding their ways home
the white noise in the rare moment that silence invades
this all silently screams to me, "paint me like a French girl"
I'm a muse, waiting to be picked upon
and nothing will ever be good enough
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC