Long Untitled Poems
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maybe there is a neat way to tell this story.
maybe pretty words and smooth cadences
could iron down the shaking of my hands
but i can’t seem to find the words.
like a fuzzy memory, there but not quite.
maybe that memory will someday be whole.
the static in my mind settled like dust
on a bed in a room we weren’t supposed to be in
and now i’m here, trying to pick up the pieces
that five year old girl couldn’t even understand.
i remember the bedsheets.
the rich crimson taunting my peripheral.
i remember my voice shrinking
my stance crumbling
i had only wanted to play.
i remember his request, softened by our age,
the way we called them “minnie” and “mickey”.
such simple terms feel like scalding water, now.
i remember standing in that old doorway,
“no” wasn’t an option, and “yes” was a lie.
i don’t remember anything else.
i don’t remember how long it lasted,
how far it went,
and i think that part scares me the most.
i don’t remember if he kept his hands to himself.
the guilt had swallowed me whole,
i figured i was naughty for caving in,
that i couldn’t tell anyone or i’d get in trouble.
i was scared, so, so scared.
and i still am, really.
there isn’t a neat way to tell this story.
i was five years old,
and i feel just as vulnerable even now.
there were no pretty words or smooth cadences.
i didn’t even know how to write my name.
the memory isn’t quite whole,
so i’ll revise the pieces i have
and i’ll sit with them until it stops hurting.
i’ll sit with her
until our hands stop shaking.
There are not many places
where I haven't been
Few cities or countries
I wasn't once in
And you'll likely find
that I'm hardly at home
I'll cite some examples
of areas I roam
I have been in Adequate
too many times
In Sufferable as well
but at least this line rhymes
Spent many an hour
in Competent too
And once I was even
in Love with you
My friends have been packing
this whole week I see
But alas, when they move
in Visible I'll be
But you'll never find me,
dear friend, in Trusive
And I'll always steer clear
of being in Clusive
In Decent I've been
and a few times in Ept
but it was in Considerate
where most soundly I've slept
I'm often in Dulgent
was never in Bred
In Ebriated I've stayed
spinning 'round in my bed
I was once in Decisive
perhaps it was twice
I think I've lost count
but the place wasn't nice
And I could continue
but I've got a date
in Sanity waiting
and I mustn't be late
© Mike Wise
11-28-23
I don’t know if he needs me, or if he wants me near,
But I can't help wishing I could calm his fear.
Whether he asks for comfort or not, I still care,
I want to be the one who’s always there.
I keep my face calm, though it’s hard to pretend,
But inside my heart, I can’t stop wishing for him.
I pray he’ll come, to fold into me,
Like he was always meant to be, just for me.
We have no label, no promise, no place to stand,
Just shadows in each other’s lives, unplanned.
But deep in my soul, I hold a secret plea—
To mean something to him, to be the one he sees.
Not just "someone" in the crowd, unnoticed and small,
But the one he calls his love, the one above all.
To wear his love like a crown, my heart’s only vow,
And his last name like a promise I would take now.
—Beloved
—A love unnamed, yet echoing in the stillness of the heart~
Untold, Unfinished
It's too bad you can't...
All I want is TRUTH
All I want is TRUTH
Even if you think I'm too weak
When you LIE to me
You rob me of self
When you LIE about me
You rob me of self
When you LIE with me
You rob me of self
So myself has been taken
And my self is gone
But I am not weak
I am only human,
As are my mistakes
But your intentions
Are proving yourself
As I see some more light,
It shines bright deceit
Although it cannot compare
To my glowing rage
Sent to engulf your Hate
Beautiful Hate
Born from lies
Promised to Love
Til my hate loves
And eventually you will have to
Live by the lies you have lived
While I will have hated my Love
I speak to the skylights
of your tender soul
in formless forms
in eccentric accents
aching in aloneness...
when tragedies of footprints
remain a sculptured secret ~
like an untitled nightfall
dressed in denied definitions
avoiding the touch
of perception
for mindfulness mirrors
memories I hoard
within titanium trays
of masked melancholy…
but I long for you to wear
chronicles carved within
my cold conscience ~
a universe layered
with moulded memoirs
tell me how it feels
to be a beautiful burden
to the jinxed jewels
feasting upon
scrutinized skin of silence
skeletons of psyche ~
too complex
for concave light...
let me stay ~ stretched
in the still solitary sketch
of surrealism ...
I am not a vision
of gold and glitter
that wicked weavers
can materialize
but an unnamed sight ~
a breathing mystery
the eyes of unfelt dusk
fail to stroll through…
intoxicated on pain
~ an ecstasy etched through angst ~
to never be tamed
to never be told
Some things aren't meant to be
no matter how well they fit the picture
or complete the puzzle
The world works in mysterious ways
In ways that sometimes
we won't understand
But remember there's always a lesson
Things happen for a reason
For a better version of ourselves to be established
To open ourselves to new perspectives
To remind ourselves that love
isn't meant to be perfect or to last forever
it's meant to break us,tear us apart
until we can longer be teared.
Make us cry,beg,make us feel like nothing this exquisite
will ever come our way again.
And that's the point
To have a spoonful of how love is suppose to be
That way we're prepared for the right one
Some people walk into our lives and
show us this and they make it feel like the right one
and you might think a love like this will never exist again
But it will ,And it will be twice as beautiful ,twice as charming
And as I will forever be a hopeless romantic...
T.H
The dark is what I am,
Fear is what I see in a man.
The deception of a person who judge me,
Only realized their outtake of oneself is only me.
What most precious to me is only my word,
And with that am free soaring high as a bird.
The factor of the matter is we all are equal,
GOD, did not make us all different as people.
One must ask. What else would you like to say?
When you take a breath and think am I promised another day?
He made us all in his unique form,
One part our mother egg and second part our father sperm.
Everything, and I mean Everything we do, we have, we earned and achieve,
Is only one questions remains. Who do you believe?
I think most people picture a parting phrase,
The “I love yous”,
Or something like,
“You’re going to be in a better place.”
It’s hard to describe,
I feel like I’ve had sort of a perspective change.
It’s hard not to imagine like I’ve seen death,
And when we locked eyes,
I saw the heat edge of reckoning’s face.
I feel the beating of my Heart’s drum,
The thud,
‘Dum duh dum’,
Speedy pace.
Just the thought of dying keeps me from sleep,
Head held hostage,
The fee for sleeping isn’t worth dreaming myself awake.
I haven’t been eating,
Meals come every several days.
“That’s a symptom”,
Our argument's reflection gleams at us from the squeaky clean plates.
I’m too busy teething to be worried about being flush in the face,
My colours been gone,
I’m blending into both the whites and greys.
Normally people claim to like
New things. However, this is
Not always the case.
Neuropharmacologists have found that high levels of
Norepinephrine can alter minds to cause other
Neurotransmitters to direct thoughts along
Non-divergent paths so that the old is preferred and
Now reject any changes to environment.
Naturally people will take a
Noncommittal approach to all of this by denying all of this if asked
Negotiations will then take place to elicit the truth from these
Nonconformists who feel that anything said will be printed in the latest
Newsletter for Neurological Sciences which will make them appear to be
Neurotic
Neophytes. They may feel they have to inhale copious amounts of
Nitrous Oxide to regain their sense of
Normalcy. But this is being
Naïve.
No amount of a drug will allow them the
Novel lifestyle they so enjoy.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
In wild gardens, wonder unfolds.
She dances, lovely, spirit bold.
Her rhythm: thin breeze, blade-soft.
Laughter ignites the rustling leaves.
They named her frail, fit for ash.
Chains once bound her—whispered night.
Now links shimmer, star-morning light.
Each step rebellion; each turn whole.
PROTAGONIST
(speaking to the audience)
I watched her waltz the unknown.
A dashboard of dusk behind us.
Overview: a void, still listening.
Create Story: her feet write flame.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
She weaves through throng, carefree intrigue.
A shepherd of secrets, shadow league.
Her heart keeps a grey garden slug.
They call it pest; she calls hug.
Forgiveness is rude work, nightly.
She does it barefoot, among thorns.
Trust grew fanged; loyalty grew wings.
Love: sweetest peril, judged by stars.
ALIEN RESEARCHER (VESPER)
In her gaze, a cosmos stirs.
Creatures feast on innocent hours.
Yet she feeds them only petals.
Porcelain armor sheds, rose-rain.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Elegy: the chains remember her.
Their cold repeats, round and round.
But she is gone—into green.
Ex Horto. Ex Vinculis.