"whiplashes" poems
I remember it being cold that night.
It was the first time I had walked away
and worried I was leaving something.
It wasn't the kind of cold that
cut
and made itself at home in your bones.
It wasn't even the kind of cold
That strained every breath to feel like your last.
But I could feel the wind biting at and hanging from my ears
while it whispered.
But my mind was moving too fast to make memories,
It seems to never have the time anymore.
But it saves pictures
like polaroids.
Fast flashes of things passed
like whiplashes and mass stashes
of three picture days
of everything
and you.
Flash:
Legs around mine, light jeans, fluorescent lighting.
My heartbeat heats at the thought of it.
My back feels numb.
Flash:
Your smile in my headband, **** you're beautiful.
I think you threw your head back and laughed.
My arm tingles where you touched it.
Flash:
The sky was slate. Your eyes were asking me their first question.
I wished I had chalk.
But you already knew the answer.
I try to tell you now what you already were then,
But there aren't enough words in the world to tell you.
To tell you that your eyes looked like lifesavers.
To tell you that if I could,
I would develop my dreams at the nearest hour
drop shop and lay each frame out
like a quilt
and a collage.
(Because my mind is full
of a kind of mess that is never less
than warming.)
I would tell you that I hold your words under my tongue
To make sure they're always delivered warm.
And that if I leave them in there long enough
the fire starts.
My words melt into mercury
like ice in boiling water.
And I tell myself,
That if anyone really knew the heat,
They would stay the hell out of the kitchen.
But I made you something.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
A sparrow, tweets.
A still creature somewhere in a yellow vacant tweets.
An open-hearted orphan, tweets.
Gloomy buds! They want to be flowers.
Blood drifts through the head and whiplashes me for your affection.
Emotionally choked by a memento-to-be makes me a burnt wood.
Beheaded bodies collapsing;
Time floods the corpses;
****** heads stick everywhere, as memories do.
A dagger stabbed in flesh tears it away;
Dripping blood, trumbling tissue;
The progeny are all already slaughtered.
A face is sprinkled by a loved one reddish gore, autopsying the memories.
Unjust? Carnivore brutality?
Celebrate the night when sun shines;
Hear out the thunderous waterfall noise;
Roll over on green to reach the orange warmth.
Kiss, literally;
Love, figuratively.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC
I) Eve
Eve became
Foolishly bold
To give up
Her faith in God.
Exhibiting lust
For a tantalizing apple
She opted to be
A dust;
Heeding a snake-
Incarnated
Devil’s word
“If you eat
The forbidden fruit
You will acquire
Wisdom on par with God.”
Duped by Satan
Unfaithful, disobedient
She turned a reason
For the lapse of man.
For lacking faith
She heard,
With jealousy
Her son Kane
****** Her son Abel
To death!
“Eve tarnished
The image
Of the womenfolk!”
We usually hear
In a religious talk!
II) Saint Mary
From Birth to death
Unwavering was
In God
Saint Mary’s faith.
In her youth,
Blind to earthly
Allurements,
When summoned
To serve God
Happy she drew forth
“Displaying alacrity
To the call of
The Almighty
Is my pleasure
My duty!”
Saint Mary knew
Miracles untold
Is capable to do God.
Acid tested like
Aglow set gold
Threatened by
Herod’s sword
Scorned by hypocrites
Hoary headed Christ killers
Her faith she never
Failed to tightly hold.
In Golgotha
The whiplashes all
Were scars on her soul!
Unlike many of us
It is not like a fiction
Or movie script
She witnessed
Christ’s crucifixion.
She reconciled
Man and God,
Till to date
And down the road
This miracle will be told.
She allowed a pride
Womenfolk could ride.
In the catalog of grace
As she won a higher place
In God’s face
Above angels and
Below God
Is the row
She was
Allowed to hold.
Like Saint Gabriel in the sky
Like Elizabeth on earth
Angels and human beings
Praise her why?
Doubt have not I
She is Holy
In a way description
That defy!
III) Devil
Duping Eve
The control on man
Devil got
Thanks to
Saint Mary ‘s obedience,
Before he realized
The mystery of incarnation,
He lost.
For via
God- Saint Mary’s
Chemistry mankind
Is snatched from
Devil’s grip and fold.
To retaliate
To belittle
Saint Mary
Still a python
A snake,
A sanctimonious preacher,
A faithful
That has gone astray
Devil makes
A frantic bid to date.
In various religious forms
He seeks a vent
To disgorge
His hate.
Oblivious to
The Virgin's word
“Generations will
Call me
The graceful, the immaculate…”
IV) God
Via Saint Mary
Once more
The Almighty God
Drew close
Mankind to his fold!
“For use and throw
God use Saints!”
Is the worst mistake
Believers could make
Eating the poisonous cake
Devil in various
Religious forms bake.///
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
A for Alcoholic
she mutters noiselessly
to her cherub feigning sleep
in his night mare infested crib.
B for Brute
which her Knight
morphs into every night
inflicting invisible
whiplashes on
her now rusted dreams
C for the curse
which befell on
their marital vows
the day he first touched
the stinking bottle
D for Death
she sreams to the silent night
which comes neither to her
nor HIM...
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 6:34 AM UTC
it's so unfair that my head whiplashes, my eyes
dart as if it's an archery event and you're the only
target i found was worth releasing the bow from
its arrow to and that my heart starts its musical
number of blue songs and wild rock at the mere
mention of your name and of anything that reminds
me of you--and it's so unfair because i could easily
forget names and appearances as if they're painted in the background but your name seems to be
wedged inside my mouth, i have to look away from
mirrors because everytime i smile i see it and you
appear everywhere--in books, in journal entries, in high school buildings, in my living room
floor, in convenient stores, in old forgotten 90s songs, in the streets with warm pavements, in boys
who reminds me of you whose identities are now
covered wih your favorite color until i could only
see blue--and it's so unfair because i think of you
on days I've promised I won't and I'm writing you
another poem when you can't even text back
i know my worth, you never saw mine
i know your worth, and i bled everytime
you cut me down with your gold edges
because unlike how my head would turn,
yours would look away and while my
eyes searches for you, yours could see
past through me and while my heart wails
for you to notice, yours remain steady-paced,
unaffected, unstirred
it's so unfair, so unfair.
Can you tell me when i can taste victory?
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 5:30 AM UTC
Scampering through the wilderness in the ashen lands of which were smog,
I stumbled and had startled till day's glistening embers burned out the fog,
With little practicality for a promised tomorrow,
Its fiery scars to shed nothing but sorrow -
And due to all of this unkempt malice,
It had embellished a flurry of flames from within its chalice.
And at once the world was a dark, cold place,
With nothing but a hollowed sun to meet face.
And within the facade of a formerly safe path,
Followed a new fume of earth's merciless wrath.
So, upon a mountain I came to stop,
Watching the scanty sun fade to a blue teardrop,
Before, at last, it had gone,
Retired from earth nearest the split of dawn.
And thus blue clouds had crusted the sky,
Winds chanting rain with agitated sigh -
Until alas offence was taken, and henceforth came their cry,
Lashing outwards onto human skin,
Frustration to ooze and bubble with sin.
Fog had began to smolder the air,
As my breaths drew short and started to flare,
Yet nothing could be done to reverse this end,
Not anyone left could ever seek to mend,
For the revelation, at once, had begun,
To challenge this world without the sun;
My eyes to glower above the horizon,
A-gasp the thick brown fog that had arisen,
And on forth I had started to flee,
As the tremors of thunder roused up their spree,
To end the beauty in which was betrayed,
With whiplashes of lightning, its purple serenade -
That, upon the slightest touch, human skin had flayed,
And buried them behind in the ashen memory,
Now expressed by remnants of fermented emery,
That baked the earth in a dusty brown,
For now this land was but a ghost town;
Forsaken a peace now left with bland,
To rot with dust and turn to sand,
No pleasure or mercy to reprimand.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
As I climb
The mountain of road
On my sleek steal, bony bike
I glance back in my mirror...
At the rich-reds, Oxy-intensified oranges
And burnt-brown trees and leaves
Lining the streets that dance;
Snow-capped Mount Kosciuszko in the background,
Wind whiplashes my wide agape
Mouth as I scream:
I am alive —
Euphoria!
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 8:40 PM UTC