Traversing the petrified pining wasteland
I reached the emerald meadow,
emerged from the abyss of condensed aloneness
to be with you, entwined,
in the stellar sapphire night of desire,
but the enchanting echo of your faint footsteps
faded away from the portal of my heart.
What stayed with me
was the sound of silence you made,
I heard in the music of memory,
hidden in the fervor of my emotion, unexpressed.
As the ticking clock of our sanguine time stopped
at the edge of eternity,
my yearning like the sun
flaming the fleeting horizon
engulfed you with the sensual spectrum of craving,
the pacified passion got configured
into the unvoiced language of love,
composing the lilting lyric of belonging
intonated by my ardent words, unsaid.
When drifting on the delusive trail
of the melting mirage of memory menagerie
you disappeared like the dry dust
of the caved-in dune of the desolate desert,
I heard the mute me murmur, I love you,
I never said to you.
I've never been one for tight spaces
Where you have to conform
Cause no one actually cares that you're different
Cause they themselves started that way
They started with a lot of charisma
With the world as their tapestry to share their ideas
They got people listening,
Until one day when nobody listened any more
And instead of reinventing themselves they caved in
Cause they wanted to fit in
They didn't want to be left out
In those small spaces where only a few get in
They talk down on us with the charisma
Saying it will also die down soon
But I keep reinventing myself
It's hard to slow down when you're pacing about
And that's why I keep moving even when the odds ain't in favour
Maybe I don't care about the odds
Or I don't even understand how the game is played that's why I keep winning
Cause I don't overthink, I just roll the dice and play
And I have a good laugh while I'm at it
The PO£T
I write because this brain is unbearable.
Everything is.
A type of lying down, still, stoic.
Feeling porous.
I chew into this brain…
A horrible waking up at night.
Words coded in strands of neurons.
Didn’t have enough time to redo my night.
I have pockets of restfulness that got spilled.
I write because this brain is unbearable.
It’s not the clawing into my back.
It’s just a caved in burdening feeling.
It’s not the clawing it’s them.
Grumbling in the morning at breakfast.
Feet are a bed when you sleepwalk.
We have tendrils.
And kaleidoscopes or something bad.
A nest or a gravestone clock.
We make mind-pasta.
Debris.
Gravel death and word paste.
The psychology of me gets wrapped up.
It’s because of the dome.
Meteorites caved it right in.
The psychology of me changes sometimes.
Like towels get changed to new towels to the old towels but clean.
The psychology of me speaks through that constant dampness.
Nothing gets into this cracked head of mine.
Except for garlic toast.
Crawled right in.
I got swirled up like zucchini noodles.
Jumping up and down with a pile of rice shouting.
Saying hi to everyone and tossing a talking apple to them.
Ruined everything like a bubbling casserole.
Like a trampoline, nothing holds on.
Or even tries.
If they had cameras, I was crying and stuff.
I don’t like it caved in!
I got slammed, smushed.
Like a pie that chooses a hard life.
I got swished around like algae goop.
Turns into a sea monster really.
I really like food, things, and grime.
Couldn’t tell you much else.
I got chopped up, scrambled, and zapped.
I’m a buzzing seaweed, soup, slop.
I take my meds whenever.
Just like endless piles of cheese cubes.
Beyond two tiny
unhinged-gates,
a cobbled path
paves eerie tones.
It guides one through
its labyrinth maze--
of toppled-over
defaced stones.
The specters grace
the weepin' trees,
with prayers--so they too
can rest in peace.
For what lies below
its caved-in slabs--
with wicked weeds
that pricks then stab.
Ghosts' jewelrys, mostly those
of golden round, within each pile
of shredded clothes--attached to
dusty scattered-bones are found.
Being pulled under.
Like a lily pad going ‘boop.’
Bobbing around, then nothing.
No amount of clearing my mind will undo it.
A spider whisper.
He likes me.
Prickling like his legs.
As if I’m in a dome.
Pulled under.
There are other people who have the slobbering feeling under their hair.
Faded out.
Like a pinecone with its edges shaved.
Fingers focusing.
With gripping finger pads that do nothing.
And the kitchen is always a mess of weird things.
Bugs and things.
My edges shaved down and caved in a little.
Grappling under the ice, but there’s no water, just feet of ice.
Someone else used to live here.
He was like a centipede to me.
Everyone is like a centipede to me.
Climbing the walls.
So am I.
Always around in the basement.
Depression.
Is when you are a spider, centipede, lily pad, or pinecone.
And could get crushed any moment.
But you don’t.
When I arose one day, I could barely walk.
Had to drink my coffee before I could talk.
Before I was done, the bathroom would call,
I held the grab bar, but still managed to fall.
The shower beckoned me, so I went on in.
I slipped on the soap, and bruised my shin.
Later I was hungry, so in the kitchen I go.
I screamed a bit loudly, when I stubbed my toe.
My dog started barking, and looking quite mean.
He then bit my leg, it was a real bloody scene.
I made it to the fridge, and looked inside,
There was nothing to eat, so I sat down and cried.
I ordered a large pizza, and thought "oh well".
But when it arrived, it was burnt as hell.
I tried to take a walk, but my feet were still sore,
Instead of feeling good, it was becoming a chore.
I made it back home, after slipping in the mud,
That's it, I thought, this day's a real dud.
I thought tomorrow will be good, like it's always been,
I laid my head on my pillow, then the ceiling caved in.
Goodnight!
The feeling of a ceramic mug being formed.
Mental blocks, not normal.
Just the clattering of pencils as if they are a cure.
Taking time out of nothing.
Taking tempered emotions.
Stemming and steaming.
I have enough opportunities.
They said that.
I have enough capacity.
Struggles, and other swirling winds.
When the thoughts escape.
The doorway gets caved in.
The ceramic mug is formed.
Waits for the way cameras speak.
Not a soft sound.
Just the sun and back.
They say I should consider not making connections.
They say I make them confused.
My mental block is endless.
I wish people would stop trying.
If the cure was found…
Then the moon landing is endless as me.
The Illinois emperor favors no bail for the violent
He's a softy in the middle, and more so on crime
From his bullhorn pulpit, he proclaims that we're safe
I'm afraid the land of Lincoln is made of papier-mâché.
He lives in a crystal bubble in a billionaire's den
with state-of-the-art, impenetrable defenses.
He hates the 2A and the working-class men
his weapon of choice is a red-headed commie pen.
His next plan is to mix wildlife into our lives
like lions and elk and black bear... oh my.
He's caved to the lobbyist and tree-hugger friends
while playing with his snubby under a wooden desk...
But the citizens of Cook County keep voting him in; he bribes them with freebies and slaps them on the wrist.
I've kept the promises I made
Stood steady in the storms
Never caved in to the waves
First one, then two, even three
Never failing, always strong
But the one I never got to make
Is the one that haunts me still
As the precipice approaches
I still consider the jump
But what once was safe
Has become suicide
So I'm left with one broken promise
Not one made to anyone
Not even one unsaid
The only broken promise
Is what I promised to myself
Whispers through her eyes
Often gazes the skimmers in twilight
More overly,
more mesmerized as her heart was in delight
She cupped the melodies, through the true sights
All what she whispered, all what the heart hides
the beautious bell, the nightingale dwells in ride
the classiness she carried through the presence
She softly bamboozled Wrath with inner elegance
the spring danced through her fragrance
and lives with her consistency and transparency
the mountains slipped after her magnificence
the oceans freezed after her resplendence
from where she came,
the heaven for sure, the rose of Eden's garden
the droplet blinks in sunlight, the swings of rainbow
the profound pearl, the morning whisper
how did I glorify her glory?
how did I propose her preposterous grip?
she rumored, the world rumored
She caved, the world caved
Her lips smudge, her cheek’s energies,
the entrance to moonlight muse, slightly fused
up to the seven stars, she never swirled a reduced
beyond bitterness of society, she grasp the loveliness
the melody of solence, the voice of innocence
forever and forever deep dancing delight
She is named as Ella, the goddess of light.
He looked at me, eyes dull and cold,
“What the hell are you doing here?”
And just like that-my heart caved in,
Shattered by the words I feared.
I had come with love in trembling hands,
A daughter needing something small-
Just a soft goodbye, a crack of light,
But he built another wall.
I stood there stunned, not sure to speak,
Not sure if he even saw
The child behind my grown-up face
Still reaching through the flaw.
I wanted to scream, I’m your daughter,
I’m here because I care,
But his voice was sharp, and full of fire,
And none of that was there.
I tried to make sense of his anger,
Was it pain that made him blind?
Was it cancer eating through his words,
Or the damage in his mind?
Cirrhosis, Hep C, too many wounds-
They stole the man I knew.
And maybe somewhere deep inside,
He missed me coming through.
But all I have are those last words,
They echo in my chest-
Not “I love you,” not “thank you,”
Not even “I wish you the best.”
And still I wonder, every night-
If he’d been without his disease-
Would he have instead changed
His final words to me?
You can hear a pin drop as the car circles the neighborhood and stands still, before the loud doors open and rose petals fall, as the highly decorated grim reaper wills himself to deliver bad news.
— by poet
Memorial Day
What pin brings us to the table?
The car circled and stopped one’s heart.
The young are no longer living.
The flag was waving - red, white, blue.
The car circled, and stopped one’s heart,
Sometime after the dark caved in.
The flag was waving - red, white, blue.
Celebration comes to a halt.
Sometime, after the dark caved in,
Rigor Mortis makes time stand still.
Celebration came to a halt -
Moment the soldier breathed his last.
Rigor Mortis makes time stand still;
Strong mother’s scream and father’s faint.
Moment the soldier breathed his last,
Silence filled his usual seat.
Strong mother’s scream and father’s faint.
The young are no longer living.
Silence filled his usual seat.
What pin brings us to the table?
a house abandoned
walls caved in
the windows no panes
and the floors creek
yet still a spark of beauty
flawed and few
nothing inbetween
i stay reflecting on the past…
it used to be thriving
full of life
kids playing, people residing
the memories the walls hold
indents of several souls
the history of not one but two,
i take a step back
a dark shadow sweeps through
i slowly watch the rug unroll
its clearer now,
a story unfolds
the faint echo of screaming
and the vision of blood shot eyes gleaming
tear stained curtains rip off the wall
the cracks aren’t just age,
they’re scars, i withdrawal
the hands of man destroyed her beauty
left her falling apart, while neglecting his duty’s
i can’t help but think
she’s stayed so strong throughout the years
still standing tall despite hers scars and constant fear
but,
she’s abandoned now, all withered and torn
at the hands of a man she once adorned
but beneath the surface her foundation stayed strong
it’s the beauty within that’s made her last this long.
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