"scotched" poems
Be still. The words I thought of when you were ill. I prayed with you every night, then God let me feel your heartbeat. Time was collecting your bloodflow. Heartbeat. Repeat, repeating the pain I felt that day when cousin' came in and said,"God took your mother up today."I was nine years old. You died about two weeks before my birthday. All I got was, packed up cardboard boxes with scotched taped ribbon that glistened in the sun as we made room for it in storage. Stored heartbeats. No one could take your place. The sad thing is I barely remember your face. Chemo. You had to take all those tests, and in the end they still cut off your left breast. Heartbeat. Time finally took your breath. Time ended our time. Why was it that after you died the doctor's found a cure to this genocide? I wish you were still here by my side. I was your baby. I asked the doctor if you were going to live, and all I got was, "maybe." Maybe you might come back someday. You used to appear all the time but then you drifted away. Heartbeat. I saw you laying in red. That red that, filled my eyes with hopelessness. I wished that red were still hanging in your closet in the dry cleaners bag, and the your aroma were in the stiches. After 7 years, I still can't believe you're dead. Even though you're not here, I think about you everydat. I ask a question that every child asks. "Why did God take my mother away?" Heartbeat. Time has finished this poem.
Mar 3, 2010
Mar 3, 2010 at 2:25 PM UTC
THE ARRIVAL OF ENIGMA
The square dressed itself
in moonlight
as if it were on its way
to a fancy dress ball
as one of de Chirico's
masterpieces.
The puppets
after an inspired performance
lay tangled together
in a box on the bridge.
They waited as their world
was dismantled and
their stage sets stacked
neatly against a wall.
A glass eye winked but
didn't think the human saw.
But the human saw.
Or was it just the moon?
The moon played hide
and seek behind a cloud.
The puppets chattered
amongst themselves
untangling each other
as they planned their escape.
But before anything could
come of this
they were tossed carelessly into a case
that snapped shut with sudden finality.
They were carried away
into the early hours of the morning.
The rebellion of wood
had been scotched.
We used the left over de Chirico
as a scene to stage a kiss
as if we had been painted
into place ourselves.
"The Arrival of Enigma"
or some such title
scrawled in litter
below our feet.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Where were you,
When the world was calling you,
When Love & honesty was only with few.
When Poverty & Hunger was at its high,
When exploitation & injustice was very easy buy.
When Poverty rips through their veins,
When child in ragged clothes, with tired eye, begs for few beans.
When their bellies ****** is not by choice,
When destitute mother cries as her hungry child dies.
When women were exploited, with no one to tame,
When humanity was cringing with shame.
When even little girls were not spared by lust eyes,
When she was left with bruised body, with her dreams crushed & with groaning voice.
When baneful herbs of hatred were spreading viciously,
When aroma of love & tolerance was crushed blatantly.
When moral outlines were quashed,
When values were scotched.
At least now,
Stop Just crying foul & grumbling,
Stop feeling sorry & bleating.
Time has come to move on,
Get off the couch & plan for a new dawn.
Lead the change with your head high,
March ahead, your limit is sky.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
She kisses me as if I am her prized scotch stained leatherback book
There isn’t enough writing in the lines of my pages
no footnotes in this decree of insanity
repetition throbbing as if asphyxiation is
tattooed across my esophagus
only to resuscitate every apology I’ve choked on
too stuck on the goodbye in between my teeth
she tells me that my spine reminds her
of the ripples in a pond during a year long drought
there isn’t enough water in the shallow puddle of my soul
to pour anything into her cup
she breaks her knees crawling away to another solution for her thirst
she is driving on the highway passing every carcass
of previous versions of herself i fell in love with
i’ve been too busy chewing on her back tires
attempting to slow down the roaring engine
my ears are bleeding from every time
she laughs at another boy’s sense of humor
I am too caught up bringing down the skeletons in my closet
that have decided to hang themselves
their nooses are wrapped in every metaphor I have ever written
she is busy grinding my ego into a line for inhalation
getting high on my fault lines has always been a pastime for her
no baseball archive of happiness in her smile
only the hesitation before every time her lips crease like
a subpoena to an AA meeting that you can never leave
I attempted to soak every “I love you” I have ever dared whisper
into the nape of her neck
a spiraling contusion that is a novelist’s ****** desire
she is choking on every slammed doorway
she never had the courage to walk out of
she dreams of diving off of parking garages
to swim in the lucid concrete
she is convinced she is nothing short of a sore jaw
the bruxism caused from chewing on every
roadside cross written in memory of her
my fingers haven’t stopped bleeding as I continue to try
to fill every ******* scotched stained leatherback book
in the library that is my love for her
so while there may be short infinites
I will write too many of them for the both of us to count.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Side to side
His eyes were wandering.
"Are you fine?"
Came in my worried voice.
With piercing eyes,
Eyes I didn't understand
Of either hatred or wondering love
With eyes that pricked me, scotched me
Eyes that set my heart on the burning fire without smoke
With eyes that sent the burning heat in my tummy
He looked at me
Little did I know....
Diannie, look at me
At last he said.
It is over now.
With anger I blushed my eyes
To the other side.
Diannie! Look at me.
"Ooh! What a hell is this?"
Something ran into my mind.
I can't imagine losing him
Tears watered down my cheeks
At a speed more than
The running waters of river Nile
Take it leave it, look at him
What if you miss on it
Something elaborated in my heart
Gaining my skeletal courage,
And grabbing tears off my cheeks
I turned
Only to see... Hmmm?
Little did I know... .
Diannie, my love
Shall you marry me?
Numbness swept me off the earth.
I can't believe it though I couldn't wait it anymore
My heart exploded with love,
Joy, happiness and excitement
Do you really mean it?
I asked just because
Little did I know
That the communication in his eyes
Was not of sad news,breakup, desperation,disappointment, dismay
But rather...
Little did I know
That the eyes were communicating great news of
Joy, happiness, love and trust
Knowing that delay means denial
And denial might mean a breakup
My heart couldn't wait any longer
It applauded
In a shy soft and tender voice
"Yes my darling
Yes with all my everything
I trust in you."
Little did I know....
That bitterness can turn into sweetness
Little did I know
That such a bitter quarrel
Between us
Last evening
Would turn into
A sweet marriage proposal,
And now
Our hearts sing rhymes and rhythms of joy and happiness
Than never before.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
*When will the war end
so that I can entomb these bones that were once a friend?
When will the final bullet fire
So that back to the serene that once was I can retire?
When will we say bye to anarchy for good
so that some of us instead of bombs on the scotched earth plant some food?
When will our people cease to cry
Rather than live in muffled sobs when their folk incongruously die?
When will these roundtable talks yield,
we have traumatised lives to piece together and crumbled homes to rebuild?
When will we finally understand that Muslim or Christian we are all humanity
and rather than fight, peace to weave a cosmic unity?
when will we finally illuminate the inhuman darkness
with love and oneness?
When will we change the violent trend,
when will the war end?*
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC
When you were feeding me pesticides, you asked if you were poison.
No, of course not.
How can you be poison when the fruit is so sweet?
When your control over me spread like cancer, you asked if you were a disease.
No, of course not.
There is nothing alarming about you, nothing to widen my eyes at with worry.
When I choked on my tears, you asked if you were a flood ready to drown us both.
No, of course not.
You are nothing like the unyielding water, scratching at the rock until it was as smooth as them.
When your short fuse scotched me, you asked if you were a fire destined to burn down the world.
No, of course not.
You are warm and safe, but not dangerous-
I mouthed silently at night.
When I was lying on the floor, barely clinging to consciousness, you asked if you were death.
No, of course not.
Death is merciful.
Death is inescapable.
When I was dreaming of you, you asked again if you are all of those horrible things.
Yes.
Yes you were.
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 4:27 PM UTC
Her chaos
was half the beauty
intertwined - a burning lust,
that scotched our flesh and scared us.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Your love was almost warm
just like a summer breeze
that ruffled up my hair
as it hop-scotched through the trees;
Your love was soft and sweet
like cotton-candy tasted
I licked it slow and steady
so nothing much was wasted;
Your love was like a dream
so credible and true
but reality was broken
by things that were not true;
Your love was most deceiving
here today and gone tomorrow
now forgotten happiness
and a river full of sorrow;
Your love was grand deception
and ended in confusion
proving love is blind
and master of illusion.
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC