Long Teenage Poems
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Spoiler Forewarning Alert!
This averred title announced straight
away so lingering fans
(hoop fully letting me abbreviate)
a short cut so ye
can up and evacuate,
while metered time,
not yet foregone and not to late
hence best heed mine caution
which can protect minimum damage,
asper gray matter within pate
or blithely ignore
admonishment, aye accentuate
hmm...okay,...you apparently
decided to forsake adequate
prophecy, resigning despite
honest to dog admission to punctuate
a most unpleasant prediction,
I did woof lee aerate
worst case scenario,
leaving disabling genetic trait
to effect generations,
where legions of lesions adulterate
causing future offspring to mutate
and closely resemble
teenage mutant turtles, this potentate
(albeit self declared
only mein kampf, thee only life,
his existence he can arrogate
he doth officiate),
hence proceed at your own risk,
to avoid unpleasant fate,
visited upon unborn sons and daughters
uttering imprecations
unintelligible expletive laced spate,
that would approximate
(a cross between duck and pig)
incoherently gutturally excoriate
ting tee, thus don't tell me, I didn't
forewarn ya, whar
yar heart might palpitate,
thus causing da ole
ticker to fluctuate
dem eyes of yaws
could severely dilate,
while sweat gushes out every pore
streaming like liquid useless tube video,
a salty sea would then perspirate
out every last drop of fluid,
erupting magmatic plasma
to pool agglomerate
right under keister,
a lovely bag of bones
delivered to Norristown State
which inability to hydrate,
hence resultant mummification
heroic measures futile
thus humane decision would necessitate
and remaining days
on Earth numbered
starting with zero, not very great,
now this extinct reptile
hoop heed dead gratefully,
express message, and clearly articulate.
(This is a true story)
A sixteen year old girl murdered her father and her mother.
She killed them because they tried to stop her from seeing her lover.
When this happened, an entire nation was horrified and stunned.
How could a teenage girl callously murder her parents with a shotgun?
Blood was splattered on the walls, the floor and in the bed and the bodies were
in a terrible shape.
She pulled the trigger when she learned they were going to have her boyfriend
arrested for statutory rape.
Her parents didn't know that their daughter was a threat.
This proves that the world is going to Hell in a hand basket.
Form:
From the yonder hazy horizon,
the blue hills undulated gently
down the emerald gradient
of the rhythmic rolling waves
of the luring landscape,
that carved the contours
of the charming hamlet,
where my endearing home
was once cradled in its cauldron,
nurturing me in the beguiling bounty
of the mesmeric nature.
The fairy flotilla of the cotton cloud,
making pristine celestial panorama,
slid silently with scenic flair
upon the curved canvas
of the cerulean sky,
where my childhood joy soared
to great heights of ebullience
with the colorful kites,
I loved so much to fly.
A gleaming stream of susurration,
gliding with melodic grandeur
with glistening liquid pearls of elegance,
flowed with the flamboyant facade
of silvery splendor of grace,
flowing through the verdant vale,
that bedecked our sprawling house
with an ornate garland,
made of embracing loop
of mesmerizing meander.
At scarlet sunrise hours,
on its rippling aureate water,
passing me by with alluring rhythm,
l sailed the paper boats,
laced with rainbow ribbons,
that floated with fascinating finesse,
wobbling in the current’s tortuous trail.
On these to a distant unknown dreamland,
I imagined my mariner mind sail unbound,
suffused with the teenage trance.
The boats disappeared to nowhere
with the receding ebb of the lost time,
within the cloudy cleft of memory.
In those adorable tender moments,
gone by like the autumn breeze,
I now live lonesome in winter twilight
with my inner child.
The infantile images deeply engraved
in the fossilized young mind,
trampled by the footsteps
that have walked me so far,
on the transcendent topography of life,
lie buried defaced under the dust of time.
Now, at the edge of the falling night,
I reminisce as I walk the last mile,
follow the outline of the faint footprint trail,
taking me to the end of time,
where I miss my childhood landscape.
74.
My Sibling
When she was born, they think I'm jealous
I used to pinch her skin like pillows
Maybe I am really abnormal
Her screwed up face sometimes makes me smile
Since a baby until she's teenage
I fill her days with frivolous rage
I hope her misery would end soon
I think to her I am not a boon
In deep reality I feel sad
Everytime when Angel's not around
Although I cursed her million times
I never regret her birth sublime
She's God's blessing whom I should cherish!
-11/28/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
We speak of a sunset, yet seldom say moonset,
As though the moon's still rising, never setting.
The sun rises, blazes, then burns out each day,
But the moonrise whispers, that good endings are ready to go.
The sun demands our attention with its brazen glare.
The moon earns our gaze just by hanging up there.
Sunlight shows plainly what we're supposed to see,
Moonlight lets familiar things trace a new identity.
The moon exists in darkness, never asking it to go.
It folds our darker feelings into its silver glow.
We wait for sunrise to declare renewed hope and peace.
The moon rises with hope; declaring that darkness should cease.
Blood moon, blue moon, harvest moon, they all arise.
Each borrows from sunlight, wearing its own disguise.
Something borrowed, something blue, yet strangely bright.
All the borrowed moony love makes sadness feel all right.
We see figures, shapes, gods, myths, and hear a loony tune,
While a cratered man's face keeps grinning on the moon.
Its light gives common things permission to turn strange.
And lets our imagination moonwalk out beyond its range.
Soft, white and scarred, like teenage skin, its face ever glows,
Cherished for every pock, scar, and pit it proudly shows.
The moon stays up late, letting its endings drift our way—
Maybe tomorrow, maybe someday, maybe, just maybe, it's today.
Merriment winds dapple bouncing
gleeful spots of energetic play
when they joy lift her thru
childhood perfumed leaves of yesterday.
Emotionally puckered steps
kick-slipping thru teenage ground arrays
wore angst sized woodsy shoes
during those years when leaves all smeared gray.
A girl who never said good-bye
disappeared down in sensual lays
when her heart first love sighed
awry in love crunched leaves spiced risque.
With aches not yet adult strong,
she smeared regrets where teared upsets lay -
on leaves that shamed her dreams
while fresh scents hid their bits that betray.
I only looked forward and run,
Without having time to look for sun
They say teenage years mess me up,
And it was all because of my merely luck.
Then flashback hit me and look who's at fault?
Whatever I'm today is taste of their salt.
Meet their expectations to earn the name,
And I don't really want this baseless fame.
They always blow their own trumpet,
And wanted me to be their puppet;
It's not a show or a red carpet,
Pretending like they are feeding me buffet.
For these people I didn't find any cure
Who wanted me to be a bit more mature;
About their life, they were unsure
But that four people's intention were impure.
It’s easiest to hide behind
The written word
Typed data
Ashes strewn across the pages
Through the rhythm of the keyboard
The scratch of pencil on the sheet
Thoughts come out from deep within
Don’t leave quite yet, just listen
I’d sooner state it face-to-face
But the sight of you eliminates
All the courage saved within
Standard teenage fears, you know.
I realize it may sound odd
And sudden
But hey…
What fun is linearity anyway?
To summarize, to condense
I think back to whence
These thoughts emerged
And the question I pose…
Is the same one I asked all those months ago.
She's thirty-three, single,
her Mom babysits her
five year old son.
She reassures herself it's
just two more hours,
then it's the blessed weekend.
Which means delicious sleep.
She has no nest egg,
she's just getting by.
There is one kind aging matron
who makes her lunch when she
cleans her large stately home.
Yet, other well-to-do homeowners
cast their false superiority heavy
in the air as she imagines wiping
off their smug faces with Pledge.
She hums to a catchy pop tune
while scrubbing toilets and
spraying down whirlpool bathtubs
as her muscles ache,
wishing she could soak in one.
Maid for the ungrateful,
she smiles remembering her
First Holy Communion,
her snow-white lacy veil,
with her rosary of pearlescent
ivory beads.
Then, a memory of
teenage politics of high school
with random daydreams like
impromptu snapshots.
Her lips and throat dry from
those wretched aerosol sprays,
always forgetting her face mask.
A few sips of tepid Gatorade,
as she softly prays her son will
excel in school.
Her learning disabilities held
her back despite her gift of
intelligence.
This day's cleaning was at the
home of a lawyer's snooty wife,
who was lunching with friends
after klutzy attempts at tennis
at the country club.
Maid for the ungrateful,
can hardly wait to get home
to soak her worn feet with
warm water and Epsom salt
in a porcelain basin. ~
i remember the day love was found,
you and i were all the world had to offer-
when two hearts were love bound,
both listening to the thumping sound
of hearts given to each other-
no-
i’ll never find another lover-
like you.
i thought of our youthful desire,
and how you touched my soft scars
under moonlit teenage stars-
now these lines on my face still yearn
for those gentle hands of fire,
melting into my soul, I feel it burn,
yet they still touch with ease,
i’m begging you, never stop--- p l e a s e...
i craved a garden,
you planted a seed-
a heart that was hardened,
still a heart in need.
forever was granted so long ago,
and you vowed to never let me go.
i needed you then,
i need you now, still-
for i’ll always need….
the lover in you.