My love, you have got me on the tip of your fingers,
I'm hanging from your cobwebs.
Your giggle is a music to my ears as your legs pierce my skin tearing from bone to bone, limb to limb.
I'm just one of your devotees, yet I don't stop to wonder how many more are there.
I let you puppeteer as that was your wish.
I have not even one regret, I don't need to think twice before selling my soul to your gaze.
You control better than I do my own life.
I need not to think twice as I am a good devote, I beg for your feather light touch despite it burning like acid through my skin and scorching my flesh for the next meal.
I do not fret, it hurts and burns yet if it means I get to hold your gaze for a second longer, feel your touch for a moment.
I am in hell, yet it is my heaven that's what being a devotee to you means afterall.
I shall carry it with pride...
This hunger for phrases incomplete
fiercely engulfs me,
rummaging and drowning
my thoughts to slay the winds
and honor my madness.
When I feel something lighting my mind,
a starburst, a craving, a dream...
this virus from a soul quite delirious
spreads over me like wildfire
flowing through the marrow of veins.
Again , each poem becomes my breath;
another strain from heavens's chime
feeling the trickles raking in my navel,
a tattered quill spinning with midnight...
Not accepting sleep, I'm on the brink
of intoxication holding life’s grail
as traces of dawn freeze...
until my verse's breath wakes into a psalm.
7th place premier
obsessed with ladders
ascending rung after rung …
what of level ground?
A world obsessed with technology
leads mankind to dismiss teleology
God has not been found by telescopes ~
I’d suggest they try a stethoscope
a neat freak is compulsive
excessive and obsessed
their day revolves around cleaning
a neat freak has a one-track mind
and will not budge their focus
their one true friend is bleach
a neat freak disinfects all day
intolerant to imperfection
time and effort never a problem
a neat freak will not rest
till every thing's in order
and every surface shines
let's not mince words
a neat freak is maniacal
and a neat freak i am not
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I have dreams on moonless nights,
when violet the skies
with dark complexion.
In some speech,
my words may rhyme,
in lucid dreams I have seen their reflection.
Verses do visit in my sleep,
senseless they are or in forms of perfection.
Just like monuments of saints or priests,
they stand tall with love and affection.
But some are too gloomy and dark,
to wicked minds they bring satisfaction.
In happy memories my bright words dwell,
to heart and mind are forms of attraction.
Dad writes articles chock-full of stats.
Just refer to his latest on rats!
Both my brothers, my sis,
Mom, and I all say this:
We'd prefer sagas starring cute cats.
Name now one man but Dad who would say,
"Evil rats on no star live" today.
Next, I'll make you say 'WOW!'
with my ana* on cows,
Then my top spot award, I'll display.”
*a collection of noteworthy information
Obsessed by my obsessions
to point of being swept away
If only I were capable
of living a different way
Despite all of my pleadings
seems no matter how hard I pray
This driving force of focus
still define’s my life today.
Soft hands, intertwined with mine,
Increasing my grip, for we have no time.
Your bright eyes, your beautiful smile,
Down to my knees, I fall again.
Mon amour, you belong to my heart,
A tear falls to the thought of our depart.
Your soft hug comforting my wounds,
But I can't seem to let go of you...
For I pry my damnest
Her legs of an oyster
For they do not give way
Thy lacking in moisture
This night of great troubles
It pains me so
My loins are aching
Her pearls glow
A beauty to behold
Her spirit roam free
I have created her cage
A fear she will never love me
To control her is to have her
An immature thought
And that I believed
These urges I have fought
In her presence I seethe
Thy rage boils over
I'm loosing my control
As well as my composure
I feel her in my soul
My body aches with words unheard
For I cannot help it
This fire, it burns
Helena has been rambling for nearly twenty minutes.
I have her blathering on speaker.
I barely listen as I paint my canvas.
Some conversation about her neighbor Ruth
Ruth wants her sister Cookie’s life.
Ruth talks about Cookie’s husband.
Something is wrong with Ruth.
Maybe she is schizophrenic or something.
She has not been out of her house since Tuesday.
Maybe she is sick, I say. Maybe you should check on her.
Helena laughs. I’m not going to check on her!
She spies on me all the time.
Every time I go out, there she is, staring at me.
Hey wait! WHERE is SHE going?
Ruth?
Yes! She is leaving in her car. Right now.
She could be going to a store, I say.
She is obsessed with me! Helena tells me.
There is something wrong with her.
I think she is OBSESSED WITH ME! Helena's voice is rising.
I am barely listening, outlining a tree in green paints.
I think there might be an obsession I think
But I wisely keep this thought to myself.
Fanatic eyes prying behind your walls
Trying to mind your evey move
Like seeing a star for the first time
And amazed by its shimmering wonders
June 12, 2023
All systems are obsessed
Obsessed with punishment
Punishment without healing
Healing is really needed
Needed to kill the bitterness
Bitterness turns to hate
hate turns to death
death to pain
pain to punishment
punishment to obsession
Obsession baked into the systems
Systems birth systems
I wonder why those who can't understand (my) poetry
Are obsessed with them as they're obsessed with me.
April 1, 2023
The obsessed with supremacy
Always quits with immediacy:
To whom “Challenge me not” is a policy,
Unaware of its sad deficiency.
Everything wears its intricacy,
Even Justice of Wide Advocacy,
The Sick’s Drug-Providing Pharmacy,
Kitchen with a sought delicacy
And Righteousness linked with Adequacy,
Death seeking often our intimacy
But sure floating an Autocracy!
Now, tell me why Seekers of Supremacy
Shall smell Death’s Sincere Mercy.
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