"tearlessly" poems
you went sledding
with the kids
while I filed the paperwork
and cried
I used to be your lady boy
shining in green pit-bar light
as you kissed me like
the kids were with my mother
stuck at the bottom of the
treehouse slide in a pile
in mud
laughing
when
in reality they were
just budding inside of you
fertilized with apple liquor
and the perfume smoking
from my chest as you
unbuttoned the first few
revealing the scar left by
my brother's first pocket knife
the skin of my young years
the skin I am wearing now
cut by these ******* papers as
you freeze
tearlessly
in a pom pom hat
teaching our babies how to make
the perfect snowball
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
Shivering she sits painfully
in the corner,
hoping it's not time yet.
the room, her prison
the haven of broken dreams
and painful scars.
rocking herself back and forth
she hears the creak,
'he's coming', she thinks
and wishes for the nth time
that she were dead.
he drags her by the hair
painfully slamming into her
breathless.
she crumbles down
tearlessly
paying for something,
she doesn't deserve
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
By his side, the devout chant God's glory
in a life so brittle and fragile
yet not lacking in strength to navigate
on the river of chaotic turbulence.
Some are tearlessly silent,
a few are about to embrace a cry
and there is one whose wails
reverberate and pound the walls.
The ascent to the greater kingdom
is adorned with white lotus
and incense that smell of heaven.
Filled with the finality
there is no point denying,
the atheist sleeps on peacefully.
May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 9:28 AM UTC
We are the coffee stains on waiting tables
That lie unattended in cafes
Of our own making
We are the imprints
Of a life lived haphazardly
Without any patterns to follow
We are…and are nothing more
Each day I immerse myself
In the torrent of a New York Sidewalk
Knowing that Life and death
Have never been closer
Than at this very moment
Each day I see people
Living lives of quiet desperation
Caged in suits of blue and black
Bought for 250 dollars
At Saks fifth avenue
Without looking at price tags
Because who argues
About the price of a straitjacket
I leave the crowds and walk down further
On a street that seems empty and yet full
There is a tree standing at the corner
Of two numbered avenues that
Are different ,yet the same
In the nightmarish way
That only cities can hope to achieve
It looks anaemic and withdrawn
Gnarled beyond recognition
Unnoticed , except by dogs
And posters for lost dogs
That offer paper rewards
For a live beating heart
It seems to cry, tearlessly
Soundlessly
At each nail that tears through its skin
Trying to find its pulse point
And silence it for good
There are brownstones lining
The street that I turn into
Brick mansions that should
In their ridges hold
Stories of wealth and joy
That surely follow
All green paper trails
But instead, house
(Like exotic museum specimens )
Cheating fathers and acrimonious mothers
Drugged out sons and prostitutional daughters
All by products of a generation that measures
***** into its morning cornflakes
And keeps itself alive
On a steady diet of Adderall
I come to the end of the street
And watch as the sun sinks down
Over a dead end world
Wondering if the night will hide
Or reveal all that lies hidden
Wondering if remembering
Buries or resurrects …
Or whether we are all graves
Postmarked optimistically “To Heaven “
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
Bricks cry your shy name
With tearlessly hopeful eyes
Ceiling tiles wooden floors
How they hang unpon your every word
Hooked are they
On the frame of this room
And on you as am I
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 2:58 PM UTC