"trickled" poems
I remember the first time you told me that you stopped drinking.
My heart took flight and the idea of having a sober father became the root of my happiness.
You got drunk that night.
I remember the first time you let me down.
I stood alone among my peers because you had better things to do.
You got drunk that night.
I remember the first time I slit my porcelain skin open for you.
As blood trickled from my veins I begged you to come and rescue me from the demons in my mind.
You got drunk that night.
I remember the first time I tried to put an end to all the madness that engulfed my life.
I grabbed your gun from the safe and shot a bullet through my head.
I will never know if you got drunk that night.
You probably did.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
From blossoms
released
by the moonlight,
from an
aroma of exasperated
love,
steeped in fragrance,
yellowness
drifted from the lemon tree,
and from its planetarium
lemons descended to the earth.
Tender yield!
The coasts,
the markets glowed
with light, with
unrefined gold;
we opened
two halves
of a miracle,
congealed acid
trickled
from the hemispheres
of a star,
the most intense liqueur
of nature,
unique, vivid,
concentrated,
born of the cool, fresh
lemon,
of its fragrant house,
its acid, secret symmetry.
Knives
sliced a small
cathedral
in the lemon,
the concealed apse, opened,
revealed acid stained glass,
drops
oozed topaz,
altars,
cool architecture.
So, when you hold
the hemisphere
of a cut lemon
above your plate,
you spill
a universe of gold,
a
yellow goblet
of miracles,
a fragrant ******
of the earth's breast,
a ray of light that was made fruit,
the minute fire of a planet.
6.8k
The moon was full,
The rose had bloomed,
The stars were twinkling,
Her scars were glistening;
The dew dripped down,
Her tears trickled down..
The Sun had set,
Her grief left her wet
She lay down alone,
The horizon was her own.
With no interruption, on the side,
She could scream out, in the void….
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 12:19 PM UTC
Today again I saw a gate in the sky.
Streams of pale light trickled through it.
I no longer looked at the sun, only straight ahead,
My silhouette reflected in the ***** tram window.
I looked farther, hypnotized,
sipping words veiled in the dust of the autumn sun.
Dry spaces. Leaves.
Golden bile sparkled,
And no one saw this wonder in the sky.
At the stop, in the crowd rushing by,
An experiment took place:
A man wrapped in copper threads.
He searched for relief while anger bound his soul.
He fought the air, attacked with words,
Like a puppet moving in convulsions.
Hands clenched, anger in his eyes.
“This will pass, this will fade,” I thought,
Moving to another car.
A primal tremor. A change of frequency.
Someone is turning the **** of our universe.
How many more cells of the body will they spoil
Before it is ground to ashes?
Until all ends in colonization,
A reward for micro-souls from another world.
People sunk in their minds
do not hear the hum of strings.
And I plead in my thoughts:
listen, look, be your reality.
Behind the gate a hundred weeks ago,
a crackling gramophone plays.
My calm relieves someone’s thoughts.
Somewhere, thousands of hours ago,
the past becomes the future.
Next time when you pass by me, indifferent,
the warmth of my thought will warm your
Dry, wrinkled hands.
I will never know You, and I would like to know
what you will say when these trembling words arrive on the wind.
In the autumn glow of the setting sun,
Like a gentle brushing of leaves at the next opening of the gate.
I will be there in the crack like a stray thought
that wanted to become immortality.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 5:59 PM UTC
It snowed
today.
A great white
cloud descended,
bringing a
preview of
heavens' glorious expanse.
The children laughed and played,
and hit each other with
little spheres of cleanliness.
With flushed cheeks and frozen lips
they slowly trickled inside,
the warmth within even greater
for the cold without.
Even parents felt a warmth
in the snow as they journeyed out,
a glowing reminder that all
is not lost in this world.
But my window stayed shuttered,
my doors remained closed,
my body remained inside.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
I'm going out and get something.
I don't know what.
I don't care.
Whatever's out there, I'm going to get it.
Look in those shop windows at boxes
and boxes of Reeboks and Nikes
to make me fly through the air
like Michael Jordan
like Magic.
While I'm up there, I see Spike Lee.
Looks like he's flying too
straight through the glass
that separates me
from the virtual reality
I watch everyday on TV.
I know the difference between
what it is and what it isn't.
Just because I can't touch it
doesn't mean it isn't real.
All I have to do is smash the screen,
reach in and take what I want.
Break out of prison.
South Central homey's newly risen
from the night of living dead,
but this time he lives,
he gets to give the zombies
a taste of their own medicine.
Open wide and let me in,
or else I'll set your world on fire,
but you pretend that you don't hear.
You haven't heard the word is coming down
like the hammer of the gun
of this black son, locked out of this big house,
while ***** looks out the window and sees only smoke.
***** doesn't see anything else,
not because he can't,
but because he won't.
He'd rather hear me talking about mo' money,
mo' honeys and gold chains
and see me carrying my favorite things
from looted stores
than admit that underneath my Raider's cap,
the aftermath is staring back
unblinking through the camera's lens,
courtesy of CNN,
my arms loaded with boxes of shoes
that I will sell at the swap meet
to make a few cents on the declining dollar.
And if I destroy myself
and my neighborhood
"ain't nobody's business, if I do,"
but the police are knocking hard
at my door
and before I can open it,
they break it down
and drag me in the yard.
They take me in to be processed and charged,
to await trial,
while Americans forget
the day the wealth finally trickled down
to the rest of us.
5.2k
I remember those rainy nights when I would lock myself in my room.
Because I didn't want to become a victim of your hurtful words & fits of rage.
Nothing was ever the way it was supposed to be when it came to us.
& maybe it was better that way .
Because in the end everything that was wrong for other people
Was right for us
But I left you
And all that I had ever loved was taken away from me that night.
The long, run out love letters
The high pitched weeping filled voicemails .
It made me realize
That the endless yelling & countless fights
Were all for not .
& all trickled down to one more sweet love song I could no longer sing
Because now
It was no longer in my key.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
For answering my call, despite not being free
For staying up late, giving up on your sleep,
For listening to my stories, not batting an eyelid
For singing to me, as I'd welcome my dreams!
For how you'd hold me close amidst friends, and beam
For how you've thanked every waiter who has served us a meal
For that first kiss you planted on my forehead in glee
For wiping my tear which trickled down, after some movie!
For noticing the pimple that caused a blemish on my cheeks -
And yet making me believe that I was still queen!
For how when you hug me and make me daydream
For how your eyes still look at me and brightly gleam!
For the silly misunderstandings on that Valentine's eve,
For the times you forgave and the mistakes you let be -
For respecting my choices and being with me
For the happiness you brought in, as agonies were forced to leave!
For thinking beyond the barriers of caste and creed -
For the patience shown as I kept testing if you would ever flee,
For bringing back faith and offering a love - in which I could believe
For teaching me that as we give back, more in abundance we receive!
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:39 AM UTC
This morning I rose before the sun,
Stretched slowly and yawned wide,
Then drove to the skate park,
knowing it would be empty this early.
I skated, really skated,
braver away from others' eyes.
Others trickled in over the hours.
Sitting, resting on the bleachers
A question from another,
"why is no one skating?"
I, confused, reply incredulously
"Why are YOU not skating?"
His explanation saddens me.
He doesn't skate,
is twenty years old,
and so feels it's too late.
I'm 26, I tell him,
I just started and I'm terrible.
It's true.
I'm unsure of myself
and my form
is
off
but I'm trying.
We have this one life,
one chance.
Why would you not try
for something
you've always wanted to do
or something you love?
You don't have to be good,
but ****
you do have to try.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Slick grass glistened heavy
After summer showers fell before a sun
That trickled veiled toward transcendent trees
Towered on the outskirts of the demesne - It unsheathed
A pearlescent canvas for a dreamer who paints ideals;
A reader finding signs in smiles and glances
Strolling paths free of fear to free imagination;
Summoning hopes against a fresh red/orange
Backdrop, and ignoring perilous heights to cast
A thought to moments yet unlived -
This fool's masterpiece.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
What is artistic expression how do put my soul on a page
How do I stroke my aura’s color if I can’t see it
How do paint my humor and intentions
How do I draw my unbalanced chakras back to balanced and write the energies surging through channels
How do I chalk out my thought process when I am reminded of you
Walkie talkies hidden ontop my chalkie chakra blocked like telephone lines hit by drunk drivers or blackouts during storms
Sunshine burning mustard seething weekend breeding burnouts coming out of retirement like
My soul color bleeding rainbows with big blocks of grey in between Needing the contrast Needing the depth and blurred complications the world is not black and white we all bleed the same rainbow sparks into the same riverbeds breathing and exhaling with the time ticks of our existence of light reflected on the glitter trickled surface of the vibrations of our soul speaks ricocheting through galaxies for eternity.
Can’t phrase anything right
In come spiraling thoughts stories of me stories of we can’t help but trip I fall into thee mother Luna romanticizing the waves of the sea you rub my jaw with your hipster b
Crown king we’re being free
We’re trying queen
Forgot the beauty in the cold
Blackened hearts should walk boldly
Frozen on mountaintops trying to keep our souls warm
Broken and torn plastic bag in the wind escaping entities that block their flow
Exhausted on faking
Keep breaking from trying to make it
Ain’t no fun to be around
I keep all my words in my mouth
The devils got my tongue
I’m feeling numb
All my existence is to ***
I can’t get up out of the ******* ground
Years go by
I’m not feeling myself
Tears come out of me like a leaking spout
No drugs can bother me
My head belongs in the clouds
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
Our love was beautifully vapid
The evanescence of it; pure misery
But I could not stop to wait for you
Because you were a virgin-the most innocent of the pure
And corruption trickled out my veins
it was melted wax
I saw you-holding the unlit cigarette to your mouth-never inhaling
but the temptation
it empaled you like a thorn
Your parents. Your highly respected reputation, will you burn it?
Will you **** her?
Will you **** me?
Can you withstand the allure of the forbidden fruit?
Salvation; you want to be saved
You want **** the lust that veils you
And I want to preserve it
But it slips from my grip like a drunken bottle of whiskey
And you return to your savaging chasteness
And I can no longer wait for the day your loosened morals
Protrude like a needle
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
Forthcome that which has no meaning
beyond the petty dreamings of a fool.
Trickled thoughts walk off mid-conversation
with strangers into the vanishing
managing to forget that I forgot them first
way before they wandered off
to inhabit the earth
but that's just me being hipster,
rather be in Pittsburgh
because New York,
too contemporary.
Very hedonistic with a lack of trajectory
or am I projecting to protect me
from an existential vasectomy.
Maybe
I'm afraid I can't make it here
Maybe
I think I drink too much beer
and Baby
I should have been more clear
I am scared
I am scared
I am scared of being a failure
and I don't even know
what the **** failure is
or what one even looks like
because every time I think I've met one
they've taught me something about my life
half the the high school teachers
across this country couldn't.
My home
has taken their lives,
my passion and my poisons
have made it hard to get by
and my parents
have worked and will mostly likely die
holding on to concept I now perceive as a lie
That's why I so badly wanna believe in nothing
but I keep falling head over heels
cartoon like slips on banana peels
Women; smart enough
to know a poet is a bad deal
but I still do it 3, 4 times a day
I let someone inside
and we'll make love
with words and thoughts
we'll tell each other what we dream of
and talk about the kinds of things
that can't be bought
cause those are the things that matter
at least to me.
But I guess
that's just me
being hipster
again.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
Your nectar trickled down
It’s flavour was renown
The sweet tasting caramel
Slowly chipped at my will
It’s damped my mouth
And pretend I had drought
It spilled its honey substance
And did my longing, justice
It painted my tongue
And between my gums
Lastly it started to float
Down my aching throat
It crawled down my pipe
And made the tube ripe
But it’s objective was my heart
As it would slowly rip me apart
So before it could continue
I started to swallow it whole
Making sure your loving covet
Stayed at the bottom of my stomach
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 11:33 PM UTC
I may never know what exactly happened,
but I think I know the why of it
Tadhana…Fate…Destiny…Kismet…
Put it in so many words,
but it all boils down to that.
Tadhana…
shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
She was being stupid,
crashing into the waves that day
just for the thrill of it
He was being pensive,
reflecting on how those waves
just somehow seemed to soothe him
People slowly left the shores
as dark clouds loomed in the horizon
save for these two souls...
She wasn’t even supposed to be there,
just a spur of the moment thing,
forgetting her other worries
she loved storms, she loved the beach
combine them and for her it was bliss…
He went there for closure,
the 10th year of his brother’s death
trying to accept that he did all he could
he loved him, he loved the beach
but guilt drowned him…
The rains then came down in sheets,
winds whipping, storm waves crashing
she was almost at shore though,
when the undertow pulled her back
He thought he was imagining things,
his brother’s ghost perhaps?
When he saw her again,
and fear was tossed like jetsam
Was she the answer he was seeking for?
His redemption in another form?
Was this the reason why he was here now?
Her only hope for salvation?
Rushing out to sea,
adrenaline rushing through his veins
Faith and Fate working together,
he swam towards her
and as they reached the shore
the winds dropped to a whisper,
the waves went back tickling sand,
the raindrops trickled into drizzles
She was breathing, thank God
He lay beside her, exhausted
She could only thank him with a smile
well, a smile that could match the Sun
and she took his hand...
and put it over her heart
It was not so much that their hands fit perfectly,
but there was something else
mole on her right ring finger
perfectly aligning
mole on his left ring finger
Tadhana.
Shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
and of why I am here.
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 1:20 PM UTC
i kept your compliments in a locket
your sweet whispers wrapped in lace
i did not care about the harsh words
even when they ran down my face
and the blood trickled down and mixed with my tears
you still said i looked pretty that day
and i know it’s been two years
but do you still want to be my prom date?
May 20, 2021
May 20, 2021 at 2:23 AM UTC
Dig deep in the sand with a cupped shovel-hand
Until you come across a healthy source of water.
Scoop up what you see and let loose the soggy contents,
Let them dribble through a careful filter fist.
Slowly drip foundations and upon them start your fortress
Using steady streams of trickled dribs and drabs.
Stalagmites in hyperspeed form walls and lookout towers
With the damp bricks one by one constructing peaks.
Spectators of all sizes will collect and cast their gazes
But you must keep up the focused droplet swell.
Maiden battles can't be won and so the masterpiece will crumble
To the tide that forces motes to overflow.
Waves crash and reek their havoc on the castle that you managed
To build with will and manky dripping palms.
The sand on which it once stood will be flattened out and polished
To make way for a palace twice as grand.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week! , which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
But presently up spoke little dog Mustard,
I'd been twice as brave if I hadn't been flustered.
And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink,
We'd have been three times as brave, we think,
And Custard said, I quite agree
That everybody is braver than me.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
In the coffin lay your body silent and still
As with wax, sealed were your eyes
Bared of all passion, pain and strain
You were at rest, tranquil was your face
When your body was lowered into the grave
Tears trickled from our eyes like streams of blood
We stood orphaned beside the newly dug up pit
Knowing quite well that the days of glory have fled!
When you left, leaving in us a contused wound
We hoped time would heal the **** quite soon
But with every passing day you’re sorely missed
Especially when our life goes out of tune
At times when I feel lonesome with none to care
In weariness I search you among the stars of the sky
When my heart twitches with an unknown pain
To your comforting presence, my mind does fly
Sometimes I envision you coming into my room
Smiling that sweet smile in the dead of the night
But soon I realize it is only a fleeting vision
And from my sight, you vanish like an ethereal sprite
Rambling through the avenues of vanished years
We remember your sweet assurance, tender care n’ love
But never will we have the joy of having them again
For you flew into the horizon like a gentle dove
Mom, your presence my tiny world once filled
With that old bygone past how I was content
A treasure of sweet memories still I do hold
Now your eternal absence, how deeply I lament
Oh Mother, though you are dead and gone
Our love for you is inscribed deep in our hearts
Which nothing can erase or erode and will last
Until finally from our body, life silently departs!
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
We drink to make each other more tolerable.
Whiskey washes over the painful memories of broken trust and promises.
I don’t remember the last time we didn’t fight.
It’s like I love you too much to care anymore.
I’d give you the world if I could,
but that’s easier said than done.
You don’t want me to be so kind to you;
and that’s something I’ll never understand.
Don’t forget who I was before you tore me apart.
I was a pieced together puzzle;
until deconstruction became your hobby.
You became my demise.
Tears trickled down my wrinkled shirt the day you left.
In our life wine rhymed with love
and water tasted like sacrifice.
There are only so many wounds liquor can heal.
New stains painted my shirts,
not tears or wine.
Red cuffs covered up memories of you.
Blood washed down the drain just before you came back.
Now it’s too late to save us.
Maybe we were doomed from the start.
But I’ll refuse to believe we weren’t perfect for each other.
Not until God tells me otherwise.
I suppose I’ll see him soon and ask for His opinion.
Your embrace has never felt more soothing
as my vision blurs to black.
You whisper sweet thoughts you should’ve said before.
We drank to make each other more tolerable.
I couldn’t think of someone I’d rather tolerate.
When I embark from dark to light I’ll remember you.
I love you too much to care anymore.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
[[ ****
blood pooling around her
there she lay sprawled
eyes glazed,motionless with no stir
she is another victim to succumb
to this heinous inhuman act
the mission is accomplished
the criminal thinks
freely he walks
head and shoulder held high
among mortals he laugh
life goes on ,another life gone
my sister,mum and aunt
the daughters of eve are endangered
my brother,dad and i
the all sons of adam
are the perpetrators
fear exists among our female species
they fear to be stripped off their
coverings
they live in a nightmare of being
stripped off their dignity
unwillingly be disrobed and be
robbed
they fear being deflowered and
defiled
out of her will she was forced
naked and spreadeagled
vitruvian man style she lay
her case was a repetition of a biblical
story
dinah and the sons of shechem
blood freely trickled between her
open pelvic
life seeped out of her misused shell
did she really deserve this???
who will end this atrocity?
who will fight for the girl child?
toddlers and grannies
shamelessly chauvinist male defiles
them
its against the word
its against the unwritten codes
it's unafrican
it's evil
my anger is frothing
like a volcano the lava is heating up
my pen is crying for the female child
i will shout this from rooftops
on the skyline i will write it
this battle is ours and we have to
fight
protection we've to offer
[[the chronicles of the dumb speaker]]
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
A solitary tear
trickled down
her waiting cheeks.
A solitary sigh
escaped from within
her restrained lungs.
She fantasized.
A solitary thought
circled tirelessly
her fading peace.
A solitary prayer
escaped from within
her restless heart.
She endured.
A solitary wish
disturbed greatly
her beauty sleep.
A solitary memory
escaped from within
her buried past.
She stayed awake.
~ Moniba.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC
He walked outside and placed it between his lips,
As every drop of rain trickled down, so did a tear.
He wore nothing but a t-shirt, as white as the sky,
He wore nothing but sadness, as he lit.
As he pressed his lips together and took a drag-
His lungs sizzled- his tears- sizzled.
All what was left... a dried up person, lost between drought and hydration.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
AND TIME A THIEF
She hugged her books
to her *******
Her ******* hardening into
her Othello and Algebra.
She watched his mouth
move
alive with words
she heard nothing of
only
her name
"...yadayadaMARY...
...yada yada MARY!"
A bead of sweat
trickled between her *******
She tried to catch
her breath and
what he was saying but
it only gave her hiccups.
She squirmed
under his gaze
a butterfly
held by a pin
pleasure that was
pain.
"And that was how
I met your Dad!"
She tells this story
only when she's very very
tipsy
crying now
for the girl she was
- then:
the Shakespeare & Maths
pressed to her chest
the world
awaiting her.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC