"viii" poems
i.
I intentionally failed to wish you
a happy birthday this year,
though I know significant dates,
hours, moments, people,
by heart.
I still search for you in boys
I mistake for bandages,
the ones with eyes almost
the same shade of your hazels,
lips resounding your laughter,
resembling a wisp of your smile,
But they aren't you.
ii.
Sometimes I pretend you're dead,
because it's less painful
to stop reaching out into voids.
iii.
My mom still blames you
for everything that preceded that year.
Though you probably had no idea what happened
when we stopped talking altogether.
Can you believe it's almost been three years?
iv.
My dad wonders who was my 'one that got away'
Though, I'm pretty sure he knows
it's you.
v.
Remember how I mentioned Sylvia Plath?
How most everything she wrote
brimmed with melancholy?
How I loved every single word?
Especially that piece
where she talked about expectations
and disappointments.
You'll never know that
up to this day I still think
people are selfish enough to
always, eventually turn into the latter.
Even you.
vi.
It's sad I never got the chance
to tell you about Ted.
How she loved him so much,
she just had to figuratively dive headfirst
into the flames-- burning herself,
what was left of her--
after she found out
he never really loved her
the same way
she loved him
in the first place.
vii.
*truth is,
some of us
never learn to accept
the love we think we deserve.*
viii.
I don't know if you still read my poems
or if you still think about me,
about us, sometimes.
Every time you fall asleep past eleven,
a part of me hopes you do.
because I always remember you--
in birthday candles, red ribbons,
off-tune voice records, golden arches,
concrete sidewalks, pedestrian lanes,
the last flickers of city lights
softly fading out of the blue.
I remember you
in everything, in everywhere,
in everyone.
It's useless, no matter how much I try to forget.
No matter how much I just want to forget.
I want to forget.
But, how could I?
When forgetting means forsaking
the very memory of you.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
I.
I’ve swallowed too many I love you’s
to be afraid of coughing up blood.
They cut you on secret.
Who knew it was drinking gasoline
and sawdust and every little inflammable thing
and then sitting down cross-legged
in the heart of a howitzer; soft.
II.
You are a soft explosion.
You are streaks of a rebel orange
in a sky that is supposed to be blue.
You are steel rods in the curve of my spine,
holding me straight.
III.
I love you’s are like death notes written in ash:
you’ll have to smoke your way to it.
Smoke cigarettes, journals, curtains,
and yourself to get that much ash in your lungs;
trying to blow smoke rings into your finger;
my ceiling knows more about my sadness than you do.
IV.
Saying an I love you once will have you
chanting “don’t leave me” on a rosary;
love will take your bones and leave you
lusting for somebody whose back
is the last thing you’ll see, and whose
skin you’ll think you left your keys in:
and now you’ve locked yourself out
of your own house, in a storm
whose sirens wail in your ears and remind
you, you’re hopeless and homeless.
V.
I love you’s leave no exit wounds,
no shell casings, and when the time comes
you’ll be telling them all how his bullet
ricochets in your ribs,
but emotion never made up for evidence
in the court of settlements for a broken heart.
VI.
Telling someone you love them is like cutting your jugular
and not expecting to bleed out.
VII.
I love you like the pages of a mad girl’s journal.
VIII.
The moon turns from an ally
to the haunting image of science and realisation:
you share the same sky, but no longer the same bed.
And astronomy keeps ******** you over
when you look up at the sky
and no longer understand constellations.
IX.
Love makes it more getting-back-at-you
than getting-back-together-with-you.
X.
Every time you taste blood,
you’ll know you kissed somebody
with teeth like needles
and they cut you everywhere; they
bit you, they bit you, they bit you
and you kept letting them.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
I. Kilig
Unang kita ko palang sa'yo—
Gusto na kita maging parte ng buhay ko
Sinong hindi kikiligin sa tuwing
Ngumingiti ka rin,
Sa tuwing ngumingiti ako sa'yo.
II. Kaba
Sa tuwing kakausapin kita,
Nauutal ako.
Nagbubuhol-buhol ang mga salita—
Na enensayo ko pa kaninang umaga.
Kasi araw na ‘to ipagtatapat ko na—
Ang tunay kong nadarama.
III. Saya
Dahil sa wakas nasabi ko na!
Hindi ko akalain na pareho ating nadarama.
Sinong hindi sasaya?
Kapag nabigyan ka ng perbilehiyong—
Magkaroon ng “tayo” sa pagitan ng
Dating “ikaw” at “ako” lamang.
IV. Galak
Alam ng Diyos kung gaano nagagalak
Sa tuwing magtatagpo ang mga mata.
Alam ng Diyos kung gaano ako nagagalak
Sa tuwing hahawakan ko ang kamay mo.
Sa tuwing magkausap tayo magdamag
Alam ng Diyos kung gaano ako nagagalak
Nung simula kang maging parte ng mundo ko.
V. Inis
Naramdaman ko rin ang inis
Sa tuwing binabalewala mo ako,
Sa tuwing iba ang kasama mo,
At hindi ko namamalayang
Nagseselos na pala ako.
VI. Pangamba
Nangangamba ako,
Sa tuwing aalis ka ng walang permiso.
Sa tuwing hindi ko alam kung sino kasama mo.
Nangangamba ako,
Sa anong pwedeng gawin mo—
Sa tuwing nagkakaroon tayo ng pagtatalo.
VII. Takot
Takot ako na magsawa ka sa gaya ko.
Takot ako na baka makahanap ka ng iba
Yung kayang higitan ang isang tulad ko.
Takot na baka isang araw—
Hindi na ako ang iyong mahal mo.
VIII. Lungkot
Madalas malumbay na gabi ko.
Sabik na sabik ako —
Sa mga yakap mo,
Sa mga dampi ng mga halik mo,
Sa mga magagaan na haplos sa ulo ko.
At sa mga gabing natatakot ako.
Gusto ko lang na nandirito ka sa tabi ko.
IX. Pangungulila
Dumaraan ang mga araw, linggo at buwan
Na wala ka nang oras sa akin,
Gusto sana kitang puntahan
Ngunit alam kong—
Na mas importante ka pang gagawin.
Naiintindihan ko naman
Pero anong magagawa ko?
Nangungulila ako sa’yo.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
i. when I was young, I was never complimented. I never felt good enough and it hurt and somewhere along the line I began complimenting everyone because I was never complimented and I never wanted anyone to hate themselves the way I did. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I want in her pants.
ii. we live in a country where a gay poet spoke at obama's second inauguration, where five openly gay senators serve, where all fifty states have had a gay elected officer in some capacity, so if I were to be gay, what's the problem with a relatively unknown sixteen year old girl from a relatively unknown town in a relatively unknown state being gay?
iii. do you want me to be gay? do you want a better, more socially acceptable reason to make fun of me? is my weight not enough?
iv. I was taught the term fluidity by my best friend Alyssa. she firmly believes that sexuality is a spectrum, like many other things. I have a different view on sexuality because I see it as a spectrum, not something that's set in stone.
v. I like making people happy, I like completing people, I apologize a bit too frequently and I was taught how to accept people.
vi. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I like her. just because I say a dog is cute does not mean I want with the dog. just because I say a painting is pretty does not mean I am going to **** the painting.
vii. aesthetic is a very important word.
viii. there are three kinds of attraction, aesthetic, romantic, and ****** just because you have one does not mean you have all three. just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean I am going to have *** with it.
ix. sexuality is an Identity. not a YOUdentity.
x. I'm not gay, but if I were, trust me, I wouldn't go for such a whiny little *****
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Sa akin mo lamang ibaling
Ang matamis **** pagtingin
Sapagkat hindi kayang atimin
makitang sa kanya nakatingin
Kulang pa ba ang pangakong
ngayo'y sasambitin
na lahat ibibigay
Hindi ka mabibitin
Musika ng puso'y aawitin
Sana bukas,
ang puso mo na
ay sa akin
-Tula VIII, Margaret Austin Go
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
I. You told me that you saw the universe in my eyes whenever we stared at each other for longer than six seconds. The universe is infinite and I thought you were comparing it to our love.
II. You fell in love with the way I laughed and acted around you because I reminded you of a rose bud that you planted on your garden. Little did you know, a rose has its thorns and I'm guessing you weren't prepared for that.
III. The first time you looked at me with tears streaming down my cheeks, you blamed me for being so ugly looking. I was cursing myself when you walked out the door and didn't look back.
IV. Months after you left and I was buried deep under the ground, he found me. ***** and covered in mud, he washed me from head to toe. I knew I'd fall for him.
V. He and I had our first kiss on New Year's Eve and he gave me hope more than you ever did. I knew I deserved him.
VI. I saw you walking down the street while I was holding his hand and the next thing I knew, you were screaming so loud I could barely understand what you said. Later, I found out that you were cursing me for being freed by him from where you buried me.
VII. I found a letter by the front door the very next day and all that it said was how the writer could still see the mud on my face and on my back, just like the last time they saw me. I knew the writer was you.
VIII. The night he found out about the letter, he hugged me ever so tightly and he swore he wouldn't let anybody harm me. Let the Power above dealt with the problem.
IX. I'm happier than ever now that I know I have someone whom I can hold on to. I don't even see any mud on my face; it is you who's covered with dirt the most.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
I.
Pangalawang pagkakataon?
Karapat-dapat ka pa ba para doon?
Matapos **** saktan ang damdamin.
Ganun-ganun nalang ba ‘yun?
II.
Hindi mo alam ang dinanas kong hirap,
Habang ikaw, hayun at nagpapasarap.
Ang hirap mabuhay ng wala ka,
Dahil sanay na akong nasa tabi kita.
III.
Pero pinilit kong tumayo para mabuhay!
Sinanay ko ang sarili na wala ka,
At lahat ng pagkalimot nagawa na.
Pero ang sugat sa puso'y naghihilom pa.
IV.
Matapos ang isang taon,
Landas natin ay muling nagkita.
Akala ko lahat ng ala-ala'y wala na.
Akala ko nakaraos na ako sa sakit, hindi pa pala.
V.
Iiwasan sana kita kaso braso mo'y ibinuka,
Para tayong nagpapatintero sa kalsada.
Pagkat humihingi ka ng sandali,
Para makapag-usap tayong maigi.
VI.
Pumayag ako,
Kahit alam kong masasaktan lang ako.
Kahit alam kong 'di pa kaya ng puso ko.
Pumayag ako!
VII.
Bakas sa mukha mo ang pagkatuwa!
Dahil sa wakas masasabi mo na,
Kung bakit ka nalang nangiwan bigla.
Aaminin ko, ako rin ay nakaramdam ng kaunting tuwa.
VIII.
Pero hindi ko yun ipinahalata,
Sapagkat, kung iyon ay iyong makikita,
Marahil ika'y umasa na pinatawad na kita.
Mali! Maling mali!
IX.
Napa-usog ka bahagya at nagbuntong hininga pa.
Napahawak ka saking braso, tumingin sa aking mga mata.
Sinabi mo lahat ng dahilan kong bakit ako iniwan,
Ako ay naliwanagan sa iyong mga tinuran.
X.
Humihingi ka ng pangalawang pagkakataon,
Pero hindi ko yun ganun-ganun.
Tugon ko'y: “Aking pag-iisipan” at umalis na lamang.
Hinabol mo ako’t sinabing: “Mahal kita 'di kita kinalimutan.”
XI.
Hindi ako sumagot at sa paglalakad diretso lamang.
Pero alam ko sa sarili kong mahal pa rin kita.
Alas dose na at diwa ko’y gising pa,
Dahil sa aking naaalala ang ating muling pagkikita.
XII.
Napag-isip-isip kung dapat pa bang pagbigyan kita.
Kahit na alam ko sa sarili kong mahal pa rin kita,
Nagdadalawang isip pa rin ako baka masaktan na naman ulit ako.
Hanggang ngayon naguguluhan pa rin ako.
XIV.
Dumaan ang dalawang linggo,
At sinipat mo na ako sa bahay ko.
Halatang nasasabik ka na sa isasagot ko.
Niyakap kita ng mahigpit sumigaw ng “Oo!”
XV.
Sa una'y nagtataka ka pa sa kinilos ko,
At hanggang sa unti-unti kang nangiti.
Dahil naliwagan na ang loko.
Matagal ko ng pinag-isipan 'to at “Oo” ang sagot ko.
XVI.
At dahil mahal pa kita, hindi ko na natiis pa,
Hindi sapat ang mga daliri ko kung gaano ko,
Lubos na pinag-isipan ang isasagot ko sa'yo.
At magmamahalan tayo muli, sa pangalawang pagkakataon.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
He is a link between this and the coming world.
He is
A pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.
He is a tree watered by the River of Beauty, bearing
Fruit which the hungry heart craves;
He is a nightingale, soothing the depressed
Spirit with his beautiful melodies;
He is a white cloud appearing over the horizon,
Ascending and growing until it fills the face of the sky.
Then it falls on the flows in the field of Life,
Opening their petals to admit the light.
He is an angel, send by the goddess to
Preach the Deity's gospel;
He is a brilliant lamp, unconquered by darkness
And inextinguishable by the wind. It is filled with
Oil by Istar of Love, and lighted by Apollon of Music.
He is a solitary figure, robed in simplicity and
Kindness; He sits upon the lap of Nature to draw his
Inspiration, and stays up in the silence of the night,
Awaiting the descending of the spirit.
He is a sower who sows the seeds of his heart in the
Prairies of affection, and humanity reaps the
Harvest for her nourishment.
This is the poet -- whom the people ignore in this life,
And who is recognized only when he bids the earthly
World farewell and returns to his arbor in heaven.
This is the poet -- who asks naught of
Humanity but a smile.
This is the poet -- whose spirit ascends and
Fills the firmament with beautiful sayings;
Yet the people deny themselves his radiance.
Until when shall the people remain asleep?
Until when shall they continue to glorify those
Who attain greatness by moments of advantage?
How long shall they ignore those who enable
Them to see the beauty of their spirit,
Symbol of peace and love?
Until when shall human beings honor the dead
And forget the living, who spend their lives
Encircled in misery, and who consume themselves
Like burning candles to illuminate the way
For the ignorant and lead them into the path of light?
Poet, you are the life of this life, and you have
Triumphed over the ages of despite their severity.
Poet, you will one day rule the hearts, and
Therefore, your kingdom has no ending.
Poet, examine your crown of thorns; you will
Find concealed in it a budding wreath of laurel.
8.9k
I. Your touch is like bones breaking; unforgettable, and breathtaking.
I know that normally people don't associate love with broken bones
but even when you cause me pain, I am still so effortlessly in love.
II. On the day that you made me yours,
you rekindled a fire in me that I thought
had long since died.
III. And in those eyes that resemble speckled emeralds,
I see a future brighter than I could have made for myself.
The feeling is treacherous, to love someone more than yourself.
IV. The thought of you lingers in my bone marrow,
and it doesn't leave, not even in sleep,
you live within my bloodstream.
V. You ignite a fire inside me,
hotter than I knew was possible in relative existence,
and every day I burn for you, slow and consistent.
VI. Sometimes I wish you would strip me down
and love me like a limited resource,
like I'm a priceless medal, or gem of iridescent hue.
VII. You're the type of guy that gets me to put my phone down
and that's an accomplishment in itself.
you're more interesting than the internet, and that's romanticism.
VIII. Your kiss is like electricity, but instead of electrocution,
you send shivers down my spine,
and put the sparkle in my eyes.
IX. They say that home is where the heart is,
and before I met you, I'd never been home before,
you are my home.
X. I've run out of words to tell you how much I love you
so now my next mission is to transcribe a new language,
to do just that.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
I.
Nakilala ka dahil sa isang kaibigan,
Di nagtagal, tayo'y nagkamabutihan.
Walang araw na hindi nagkakausap,
Tuwing nagmemensahe ka ako'y parang nasa ulap.
II.
Nakilala pa natin ang isa't-isa.
Tandang-tanda ko pa nung una tayong magkita,
Hindi ko maalis sayo aking mga mata,
Pero ramdam ko ika'y sakin ay ilang pa.
III.
Unang larawan na tayo'y magkasama,
Proud na proud ko pang ipinakita sa tropa.
Ako na ata ang pinaka-masaya nung araw na 'yun,
Dinarasal na sana parati nalang ganun.
III.
Nagpatuloy ang ating palitan ng matatamis na salita,
Pero kada-araw na lumilipas na araw, tila ika'y nanlalamig ata.
Hinayaan ko, kahit na hulog na hulog na ako sa'yo.
Sabi ko sa sarili ko: "Wala kang karapatan mag-tampo dahil di naman kayo."
IV.
Nagsawa na ako sa ganoong estado kaya't nagtanong ako ulit:
"Ano ba ang meron tayo? Kasi mahal kita, eh ako ba?"
Hindi ka umimik, nagpumilit kang ibahin ang usapan.
Tinanong ko ulit ang aking sarili kung; "Itutuloy ko pa ba ang laban?"
V.
"Hindi kita kayang mahalin gaya ng pagmamahal mo sa akin."
Ang ganda ng umaga ito, tapos ganito ang bungad mo?
"Bakit ano ang dahilan, gusto kong maliwanagan?" Tanong ko.
"Gusto na niya makipagbalikan. Patawarin mo ako."
VI.
Halos gumuho ang mundo ko sa nabasa ko.
Para akong natutulog ng mahimbing, tapos binuhusan ng yelo.
Alam ko namang hahantong sa ganito,
Buti na lamang handa ako, pero di ko akalain bakit sa araw pa na 'to?
VII.
Masyado akong nagpadala sa mga ngiti mo,
Hinahanap-hanap ko pa presensya mo,
Hulog na hulog na ako, kasi akala ko kaya mo ako.
May kalakihan ako, pero sana nagsabi kang hindi mo ako kayang masalo.
VIII.
Ikaw ang bumuo sa mga araw ko,
Pero ikaw rin pala ang wawasak nito.
Lumaban ako--kasi akala ko kaya mo rin akong ipaglaban,
Pero mas piniling **** balikan yung taong minsan ka nang iniwan.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
Tayo dapat kamo
ang mga pangalan ng Zodiac natin.
Ano ang iniisip mo,
na ang mga tala ay iaayos ang sarili nila
para sa ating dalawa?
Wag ka nang umasa.
Pero gusto ko ang ideya.
Sige, tayo na lang
ang magpangalan ng ating kapalaran.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
•
*
I.
Ohh, longsuffering,
This love cure all the aches,
Replaced with surety.
II.
Yearning and longing,
Are heightened each precious days,
Thirsty for your lips.
III.
I hunger for you,
Your warmth and touch I dreamed of,
You, so close to me.
IV.
Angelic visage,
Played in my heart, mind and soul,
Each single moment.
V.
Vision of future,
Lock fingers with you my love,
Conquering the evil.
VI.
Together with God,
Praying, praising Him always,
This love to exist.
VII.
These tears there'll be none,
Our love covers it with joy,
Pure and bona fide.
VIII.
Oh thank God above,
For heaven inside our hearts,
Keeping us stronger.
IX.
No storm can vanquish,
No trials can separate,
Invincible love.
X.
Jointly, me and you,
Bonded for everlasting,
Brandon & Earl Jane.
*
with love <3 <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
AMBIGRAM VIII
Recto:
Yesterday was Christmas, and the days
already start to grow a little longer.
In our hand, the new year‘s fledgling, stronger
though more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow, its song a
a sad, repeated phrase among the blackened
trees along a river. So sit back and
raise your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And black and
white explode, a throng of rainbows—gaze!
You‘ll see it, wakened in the morning haze,
ascending as the tethering s tring is slackened:
Verso:
Yesterday was Christmas, and
the days already start to grow
a little longer. In our hand,
the new year‘s fledgling, stronger though
more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow,
its song a sad, repeated phrase
among the blackened trees along a
river. So sit back and raise
your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And
And black and white explode, a throng of
rainbows—gaze! You‘ll see it, wakened
in the morning haze, ascend-
ing as the tethering string is slackened.
AMBIGRAM
Recto:
Yesterday was Christmas, and the days
already start to grow a little longer.
In our hand, the new year‘s fledgling, stronger
though more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow, its song a
a sad, repeated phrase among the blackened
trees along a river. So sit back and
raise your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And black and
white explode, a throng of rainbows—gaze!
You‘ll see it, wakened in the morning haze,
ascending as the tethering s tring is slackened:
Verso:
Yesterday was Christmas, and
the days already start to grow
a little longer. In our hand,
the new year‘s fledgling, stronger though
more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow,
its song a sad, repeated phrase
among the blackened trees along a
river. So sit back and raise
your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And
And black and white explode, a throng of
rainbows—gaze! You‘ll see it, wakened
in the morning haze, ascend-
ing as the tethering string is slackened.
AMBIGRAM
Recto:
Yesterday was Christmas, and the days
already start to grow a little longer.
In our hand, the new year‘s fledgling, stronger
though more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow, its song a
a sad, repeated phrase among the blackened
trees along a river. So sit back and
raise your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And black and
white explode, a throng of rainbows—gaze!
You‘ll see it, wakened in the morning haze,
ascending as the tethering s tring is slackened:
Verso:
Yesterday was Christmas, and
the days already start to grow
a little longer. In our hand,
the new year‘s fledgling, stronger though
more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow,
its song a sad, repeated phrase
among the blackened trees along a
river. So sit back and raise
your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And
And black and white explode, a throng of
rainbows—gaze! You‘ll see it, wakened
in the morning haze, ascend-
ing as the tethering string is slackened.
AMBIGRAM
Recto:
Yesterday was Christmas, and the days
already start to grow a little longer.
In our hand, the new year‘s fledgling, stronger
though more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow, its song a
a sad, repeated phrase among the blackened
trees along a river. So sit back and
raise your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And black and
white explode, a throng of rainbows—gaze!
You‘ll see it, wakened in the morning haze,
ascending as the tethering s tring is slackened:
Verso:
Yesterday was Christmas, and
the days already start to grow
a little longer. In our hand,
the new year‘s fledgling, stronger though
more fragile too in many ways
than this bedraggled, aging crow,
its song a sad, repeated phrase
among the blackened trees along a
river. So sit back and raise
your glasses to it, do the conga,
auld lang syne, then hit the sack. And
And black and white explode, a throng of
rainbows—gaze! You‘ll see it, wakened
in the morning haze, ascend-
ing as the tethering string is slackened.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 3:26 PM UTC
i. "Why did the number of parking tickets spike
when Persephone was carried off to the underworld?
Demeter wasn't working."
She liked greek mythology puns.
It was a good thing I was creative.
ii. Truth or Dare, I asked her what
was the best decision she's ever made.
she answered with, "In 7th grade I named my puppy Achilles,
so when I saw him I could say, 'Achilles, heel!'"
iii. It took me two weeks to realise that
when we held hands, I wasn't really
holding her hand, but a chainsaw,
ready to slash through anything that stood in our way like
Hercules chopping off the Hydra's head.
I was immortal.
iv. August eleventh; 9 PM
we watched for the meteor shower.
I connected the freckles splayed upon her knee,
told her they looked like the constellation of Cassiopeia.
"Be Sirius" she jested.
v. She had a bad habit
of smoking at the beach and I
Wondered if she knew that with
every single flick of ash into the water,
Poseidon was cursing her to the River Styx.
vi. Headaches visited her often, I joked that
maybe she was getting ready to birth
a Goddess from her cranium. She
did not find it clever.
vii. You could say we became like Aphrodite and
Hephaestus. I, longing for her. She,
lusting after another. A synonym for her
headaches would be me.
viii. Apparently if you hack off a Hydra head, two
would grow to replace it. Knowing this sooner
probably would have saved me from numerous
amounts of Kleenex and chocolate.
ix. She left me a note on the dresser,
"Fun fact: Medusa's favourite cheese was
Gorgon-zola. PS - you remind me
of Medusa, please remember to brush your hair."
She reminds of Medusa as well, I do not doubt that if we
meet again, her eyes would still turn me into
stone.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
EᔕᔕᕼI ᑕOᑎT.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Lyn sniffles as Ainhara gives her a
handkerchief which she uses to
wipe her tears.
"Thank you, guys," Lyn whispers,
giving them a weak smile.
'Well, at least she smiles,' Esshi
thought.
Ainhara has a bright smile. "My lady,
your lady mother gave Bael orders to
make this soup for you. She instructs
that you eat this."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
When Esshi pushes the serving trolley
to her Queen's side, she lifts the gold lid
and Lyn looks at the soup; steaming
kale in a beefy broth with chopped
peppered sausages, lamb cubes,
onions, garlic, mint chopped potatoes
and carrots.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Kale, really? I hate kale," Lyn whines,
gently pushing the bowl away. "I don't want it!"
Esshi and Ainhara look at each other and smile.
*'Still acts like a child when her lady mother
commands she eats her vegetables!'* giggles Esshi.
"Your mother says you must eat it, My Lady."
Ainhara chuckles. "It will help with reduce
your stress and help relax your body."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Lyn sighs and mutters under her breath,
"I hate it when she does this! She knows
I hate the smell of kale! I swear, I'm going
to outlaw the vegetable!" She held hers
nose up and huffs at the end of her
statement, making Ainhara and Esshi smile.
'At least she is in better spirits now.'
thought Esshi.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the black bird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
6k
VIII. TO ARES (17 lines)
(ll. 1-17) Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden-
helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities,
harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the
spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of
Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous
men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere
among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether
wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third
firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless
youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and
strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter
cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of
my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes
me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed
one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of
peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of
death.
5.6k
A cold room for puddles of blood,
Yes its true,
My conscience is slowly dripping down my fingertips,
Can you see me becoming the monsters that grow teeth over us?
Listen,
Just listen,
Wolf Queen,
You know I can't give my hands to you,
Matchstick man,
How long will I have to burn away my roots?
How long do we have to burn?
The self destructive gene...
Ashes-
I have no hands to catch the ashes
You know I loved the sound of rain more than the sound of my own pulsing blood,
Dreams spill over these days,
I told you,
When I release the spectrum in my chest,
It would absorb the colors of this world,
Hiding from my own face I,
I have become,
Nothing
I sleep with a ghost,
For it cannot be I that has flesh,
A specter for a dying town,
Memories trapped in dusty pictures,
Scattered everywhere here,
I stood still in this place and watched the movements of decay,
Decay into
Nothing
All my colors are bleeding out
All my colors are bleeding out
All my colors are bleeding out
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Hunting has a noble heritage, for sure
Bringing us together, it forged a species
Keen-eyed, communicative, feared by the fierce
So who am I to begrudge you your sport?
I, too, love wide open skies, tramping over bog and fen,
I even quite like dogs!
I imagine nature might reveal herself to you
In signs jealously guarded from the armchair carnivore.
I can almost reconcile your harsh percussion
With the croak of the raven, the sloshing tide
And the chewing and mooing of cattle.
But the pheasant! For the love of God, the pheasant?
It can hardly be a battle of wits!
I've seen him as he sits, a big, red bullseye
On fences and *****
Startled by every day he survives.
How stirring can it be,
Picking off the ones the cars and lorries never got?
When you carry him home,
Better off dead,
Hang him in your garage for a week
Feeling like Henry VIII,
Cut him down, slit him open and find the crop
Stuffed not with heather shoots and beetles
But with half a pound of store-bought grain
(Generously laced with antibiotics) -
I hope the realisation creeps up
That you may as well have asserted yourself
In the hen coop,
Blasting away at befuddled poultry
And saving yourself a walk.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 1:33 AM UTC
Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
but wise men perceive approaching things.
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7.
Men know what is happening now.
The gods know the things of the future,
the full and sole possessors of all lights.
Of the future things, wise men perceive
approaching things. Their hearing
is sometimes, during serious studies,
disturbed. The mystical clamor
of approaching events reaches them.
And they heed it with reverence. While outside
on the street, the peoples hear nothing at all.Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
but wise men perceive approaching things.
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7.
Men know what is happening now.
The gods know the things of the future,
the full and sole possessors of all lights.
Of the future things, wise men perceive
approaching things. Their hearing
is sometimes, during serious studies,
disturbed. The mystical clamor
of approaching events reaches them.
And they heed it with reverence. While outside
on the street, the peoples hear nothing at all.
5.2k
i.
Imagine, mine love
I'm on one knee;
ii.
Imagine mine love
No distance in-between;
iii.
Imagine mine love,
Thine glimmering
Wedding ring:
iv.
Imagine mine love
Preordainment's best
To bring;
v.
Imagine mine love
Angel's that wilt
Sing;
vi.
Imagine mine love
Just us two;
vii.
Imagine mine love
Making love upon new moon's;
viii.
Imagine mine love
Enthroned as mine muse;
ix.
Imagine mine love
Osculating that wilt soothe;
x.
Imagine mine love
Mine finger's stroke thy strand's;
xi.
Imagine mine love
On the sea of love we dance;
xii.
Imagine mine love
No world, nor worldly plan's;
xiii.
Imagine mine love
Toe's locked, buried neath' the sand;
xiv.
Imagine mine love
Hand held to hand in hand;
xv.
Imagine mine love
Thy head upon
Mine chest;
xvi.
Imagine mine love
The thought of nothingness;
xvii.
Imagine mine love
Mind free from pain and stress.
xviii.
Imagine mine love
Imagine mine love
This;
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
i.
if i could have back
everything you took from me
i wouldn't want it.
ii.
childhood wounds
entangled,
the little boy
who loves
the little girl.
the silly child
within me
who thought
you could
revive her-
willing to
believe
anything.
iii.
you did all
you could to
sink your teeth
into my
rotting skull,
to brand your
fingertips
on my skin.
iv.
you are poisonous
to all you touch,
your hands rough
with abuse,
tongue laced
with venom-
every word
another lie.
v.
i would rather die than carry your child.
vi.
there are now
no living ties
to my old life.
i am not alone-
i am free.
vii.
my new love
holds my heart
with utmost
gentleness-
hands as delicate
as rain.
he untangles
us,
strokes my hair
cooks me breakfast
wipes my tears
viii.
the little girl
who you spit on
lied to
beat
*****
silenced-
she dances in the kitchen
jumps on the bed
paints a picture
of a life
unknown.
Aug 21, 2021
Aug 21, 2021 at 10:39 PM UTC
I
I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark.
The blue-green glow of dashboard gauges, the biting scent
of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Insects slapping the windshield, incipient rain.
Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms.
II
Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms
I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement
ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor on MLK Boulevard.
The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence
inscribed on my back also confirms this.
III
I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair,
fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears,
twisting behind tent ***** with a one-armed
contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair.
IV
I derailed in a dive bar.
V
I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights,
where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic
signals kept perfect time. I picked through trash bins.
I paid for love with drugstore wine.
VI
I closed my eyes on a mountain road.
The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank.
VII
I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed
by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew
back the curtains and lost myself
in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps,
the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes.
I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide.
VIII
The moon over my shoulder
tightened into focus like a spotlight.
One night the barking dogs undid me.
I caved in to the candor of a naked mattress.
I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell,
clinging to bars the color of a morning dove.
IX
I coveted the house keys of strangers.
X
I opened and closed many doors.
I sang into the mouths of storm drains.
I stepped out of many rooms only
to find myself in the room I just left.
Despite all my leaving, I remained.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
I.
and I galumphed
to the rock salt
shore and
collapsed
waiting for
you
to run over
the dune’s
slope
II.
it had only been
a few minutes
but I could see
the rhino cloud
coming
full
steam
and spitting
fire
if only I had
the strength
but you stole that
from me
too
III.
the steam was
fresh against
my cracked
skin
I could feel the
salt melt off
into the
sand
crane swinging
jaws engulfing
my twisted
body
IV.
I did not find you
inside
only an
unbreakable bottle
with an
unreachable
note and a skeleton
with rings
on its
fingers
V.
my last dreams
were ones
of us
on a mountain
hot air balloon
shadow
specked against
the sunset
everything was so
big
the wind blew
your hair
everywhere
as I drank
in the
storm
this was the last
time I remembered
smiling
VI.
black expanse
with a little
white dot
popping from
corner to
corner
life always played games
with me
death was no
different
VII.
this creature
feared you
this creature
was a long visit
with fire burning
and love notes
this creature was
spit out by
your mouth
this creature
was loud by
your breath
this creature
spackled and
magnetized
never reborn
boat stench and
teeth
mashed
and mashed
again
raining on
your body as
the desert breaks from
its last
drought
VIII.
we will meet
again
I’m sure of
it.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
Before everything
i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.
ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.
iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.
iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.
v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.
vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.
vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.
viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".
ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own **** bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.
x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC