Today is out of order.
I just want to flee,
everything is biting me like a big yellow bee.
The day started off with mold on my brie,
then I lost my only house key.
Under the bed looking for my shoe on one knee,
my pants went wet with pee.
Please just set me free,
this is my one and only plea.
Internally expoding.. Premier seat (p o v)
Point-graphic.' Its all blurry and so blue.'
jacint'a allan, Victoria is wide awake now'
I think get out your best runners; oh wow.'
Jacint'a Hong Hong, or even China is for you.'
Wounded by the biting frost in my chest, the moon is my silver bandage,
My desires bloom in the night, like shadows on the wall of memory,
Only now, when I feel I've lost you in the boundless infinity,
I begin to love you; love is an echo that still resonates within me.
My wounds sing of the late encounter, like an old song,
And your name floats in the air like a forgotten perfume on dusty shelves,
I don't know your address, but I write my longing on the canvas of silent stars,
Suddenly, the world's waters absorbed you, and I got lost in the wind.
Wandering gestures, minus infinity separates us like an abyss,
I construct offenses against you, yet you remain a beacon in the fog,
When everything happens naturally, we opposed each other like day and night,
And in this play of lights and shadows, only now do I truly love you.
Our words are foreign tongues, frozen in cold silences,
At the border between yes and no, a silent witness whispers your story to me,
We opposed each other like the sun and the moon in the sky of lost dreams,
And only now, when I've lost you forever, do I know I've always loved you.
BITING RED
BUGS
Cruel
insect-like
bites…
sucking
and
spitting
out blood:
Today’s
p
o
l
i
t
i
c
s.
.
Black lashes
blown off of a fingerpad that throbs
in tandem with an overharvested eyelid
flit to the floor—
wasted wishes
manufacted in mockery of dandelion's dance.
Keratin cracks
beneath the pressure of enamel,
exposing weak, watery skin
on trembling fingertips—
nervous nibbles
evolved into voracious, cannibalistic cravings.
Though hope
fractures under the weight of repugnant gazes
and my unsightly nubs grasp blindly for pigments to suppress
these habitual shames—
flesh forgives
more than the self, and, like a forest after a fire, it grows back.
It always grows back.
I am alone, with silence biting deep into my bones,
It's not pure quiet, but a sharp stir, a void that gnaws at me,
It digs a dwelling in the marrow of my being, and I wonder,
Am I condemned to walk forever on dark paths,
With darkness as my only companion, an echo in the night?
The future flickers, like a flame in a storm, trembling,
From afar, like a living hope, it winks at me,
I stagger toward it, carrying within me the bones of all past days,
With the hope that the fire ahead will eventually burn,
The ghosts that haunt me, to lose them in the blaze.
But the ghosts are cunning, they change faces with masks,
Of those I've loved, words left unsaid in time,
Doors I dared not open, whisper sweetly like venom,
Until I forget where the present ends and the past begins,
And in the labyrinth of memories, I lose myself, without a compass.
I reach out, but in my palms remain only ashes and dust,
Every dream I embrace turns to powder,
Before I can breathe it, feel it flow through me,
And so, with a heavy heart, I wander among shadows and desires,
Hoping that one day I will find the path to a gentler dawn.
Ebony eyes with teeth a biting stare
Haunting me with a green glare
Chewing at me with anticipation
What is wanted is imagination
Envious heart fancies me more
Than I am fore I am a bore
I dress humbly I’m not too proud
Yet someone watching me now
As a teen I recalled this feeling
Never wore anything revealing
But as one blooms curves come
And unwanted attention from
Teachers who were really perverts
Normal peers and some jerks
I use to think God this is a curse
It will be better inside is His word
Rain is biting the building’s raspberry roof
Making a meal hard like a cold blue tooth
And the wind blows yes hear it wail
A lone leaf floats like a boat with a sail
Lightening strike as if bowling
Knocking down pins some rolling
Striking tree tops even some poles
Hitting some crops even some souls
You can survive lightning strike
Just the same from it can die
Surely you will have to agree
Nature is a force of mystery
Who so maligns a noble man,
None but his own self tends to stain,
The ash thrown over head,
On one’s own head gets spread,
O indulge in no smear campaign.
__________________
Translation |28.01.2025| wisdom,
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. This verse warns us against maligning others. Doing so reflects on one’s own credibility. If you take a fistful of ash and throw it in air, it would fall on your own head. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Nindaam yah kurute saadhoh,
tathaa svam dooshayati asau |
Khe bhootim yah tyajet uchhaih,
moordhnih tasya eva sah patet ||
My humour can often be misunderstood
Though it's solely my attempt at lightening the mood
And putting a smile on everyone's face
No deeper, more sinister reason do I have
My most serious problem is
That I show affection for most people that I meet
Which can often be mistaken
For something other that just friendship
I must apologize for this
It is not meant to be anything more than innocent fun
As difficult as it is to refrain from this practice
I must try my best to be more aware
Of how my words can sometimes be misinterpreted
Biting my tongue is not something that comes easily
Or as second nature to me
But at times I need to refrain and understand
That people's feelings can and will be hurt
I apologize!
February bites the dust
As every month and season must
And we’ve no choice but to adjust
As life goes flitting by.
On calendars we’ll turn the page
And check the mirrors, where we’ll gauge
How different we look as we age;
Reflections do not lie.
Yet March is waiting ‘round the bend.
On its arrival, we’ll extend
A lukewarm welcome to pretend
Misgivings don’t apply.
Before we know it, one more year
Will gobble days and disappear,
But hopefully, we’ll persevere,
With rhymes yet to supply.
Judge me not, just wear my biting shoes
And then see, wear no blinkers of views
Of which little I care,
Nor care such shoes to wear,
And there’s no room I think
To paint peacock’s eggs pink,
Or else wait and hope I lose my muse.
______________________________________
Limerick | 06.09.2022 | Humour
Poet’s note: Every writer, prose or poetry, every performer, painter or player passes through this phase—to feel like shooing off the critics like a speck of dust on the dress he wears. It is good to feel sure of what one writes. But every lump of gold has to pass through the test of fire to purify.
I have been systematically bitting
my nails since I was 6 year's old
so I am told
Sometimes way down past where
the skin begins and blood starts
And it hurts so much I can't even
pick stuff up
And yes I know it's a filthy habit and
it really hurts
I have somehow never been able to stop
So what is the explanation or only
conclusion to be gained
Am I in fact a sadist do I love pain
1 thing is most definitely for certain
I must quite obviously be stupid
because I know what I am doing
to myself
And even despite all this I still won't
be stopping any time soon
Nailed it
northern cold wind bites
frost grows over panes of glass ~
nascent sun of warmth
1/15/2022
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We will leave with nothing, but a tracing.
And an inability to talk about what we are facing.
We leave behind our souls so we may not sow.
They drained our excitement- it is covered in snow.
There is an inkling left to activate.
So that our eyes will once again not be under this gate.
But other than that there is nothing left.
Except our families who no longer feel bereft.
We turn into static.
As not to be erratic.
There is no happiness left to plunder.
But this population will always wonder.
If we dig too far, we will feel guilt.
If we hope too much- we will threaten the silence we built.
So I hope you understand that as we face these stars at night-
That we close the curtains, as if the stars are hope we must fight.
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