Since your up and leaving
I’ve been heavy bleeding.
Take this restless heaving
And recycle everything of mine
I gave to you that held meaning.
Disassemble these arms
That have clung to you.
They have done nothing but weep,
So distance your name from mine.
Call me when you’re back in town
So I can dilate my eyes and hide from you.
Your gaze is too piercing,
And your body is too beautiful to me
So I can’t bear to look.
Don’t tell me when you’re gone.
Why should I have to suffer your leave?
For the seventh time, with the flashbacks.
Take your time here but leave me lonely
Unless you mean it, unless you’re ready to want me.
It will soon reach a decade passing,
Like distilled water standing
Still in its same bottle.
I am the water marinating
In the reminders of you.
Choosing suffering, and choosing
My own suffocation by not moving on.
Red lips are not ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ kissed by the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ dead.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ their love pure.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ eyes ¦¦¦¦ lure
When I behold eyes blinded in ¦¦¦ stead!
Your ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ exquisite ¦¦¦¦ limbs knife-skewed,
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ rolling there
Where God seems ¦¦¦ to care;
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ Love they bear
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ in death's extreme decrepitude.
Your voice sings ¦¦¦ so soft, --
Though ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ murmuring through raftered loft, --
Your ¦¦¦¦ voice is ¦¦¦ dear,
Gentle, and ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ clear,
As theirs whom none ¦¦¦ hear
¦¦¦ earth ¦¦¦ stopped ¦¦¦¦¦ piteous mouths that coughed.
Heart, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
Nor large, nor full ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ made great with shot;
¦¦¦ though your hand be pale,
Paler are all which trail
Your cross through flame and hail:
¦¦¦¦¦ you may weep, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ touch them not.
(Blackout of Greater Love by Wilfred Owen)
The roses weep
tears of red
like blood fallen
from a heart
pierced
by the thorn
of betrayal.
Secrets do not keep
and each has fled
to wreak mayhem
like a roadside tart
with a rabid thirst~
no need to inform
or bewail.
sweet spring awakens earth from winter sleep
with bold shouts of color playfully laid
on flowers, chirping birds and butterflies~
for you the elder willows will still weep,
and here in softness of the springtime glade
our nature's own dear Mother will advise
those who come with heavy heart’s hopeless pleas,
those whose love of life has been sudden frayed
by winter's last cold storm in human guise~
now you may take ease
storms have made you wise.
A day is coming — soon, it is,
Ordinary in every sense,
Yet I shall journey far away,
To the land where the sun shines not.
Weep not, my child.
The Lord is softly calling me home,
And who am I to resist His voice?
Though my heart clings to this world,
I must answer when He calls.
Weep not, my child.
I have lived my days in fullness,
Shown kindness where I could,
Lifted others when I was able —
Now my time of rest has come.
Weep not, my child.
Excuse me while I weep
The memories I will keep
The excuses I had made
The price that I paid
The brother I have lost
It came with a cost
My heart has another hole
The cancer took its toll
My favorite till the end
My best friend
No matter the distance
No matter the instance
So, please, excuse me while I weep
My best friend, I couldn't keep
Calmness, I'll try to remain
But weeping, I cannot refrain
Ill go
where the match meets the flame
Where embers ignite
the empty space that remains
Ill sit
by the trembling door frame
Where dry bones weep
The words leave my charred tongue,
seeps through my teeth
"5 flares in still waters"
This is where love meets
Oh, do not weep, my sweetest heart,
For every tear doth rend me apart;
I do not hate thee when thou cry,
But lo! I die a little nigh.
Each droplet fallen from thine eye,
Strikes ‘gainst my soul, and bids me sigh;
For when I see thy spirit torn,
My heart grows frail, my will is worn.
It is not thee I curse, but me,
Whose love hath brought such misery;
To see thee pale, thy soft lips quiver...
God knows, I’d bear thy pain forever.
Would I could take thy grief away,
And bleed instead, till break of day;
For every sob that shakes thy breast,
Steals peace and mercy from my rest.
I love thee still...too deep, too true,
Though thou know’st not what love can do;
Each cry of thine, each trembling breath,
Draws me, my love, still nearer death.
So weep no more, or I shall fade,
A ghost of guilt thy tears have made;
For in thine anguish, I can see...
All that is good hath died in me.
The violin vanquished
The cello said hello
The piano languished
The tears would only flow
The audience entranced
The notes rang out so clear
They giggled and they danced
Their hearts were full of cheer
The oboe took the stage
Still mourning love that died
His anguish mixed with rage
Blurred every eye that cried
The violin rang out
Tho cut them like a knife
And every eye dried out
Sweet notes that sang of life
When an angel weeps,
a star must fall
to carry the warning
and answer the call.
To capture the flame
before it consumes.
Or let it engulf us
In silence and ruin.
black tears weep
while angels sleep
they're jealous of the light
blessed tears wept
while angels slept
he created the light
black hearts rage
an empty cage
see them hide from the light
bright hearts age
an open page
living inside the light
Dry fuel in the bush
allows fast fires to burn
reduction too late
while the country is burning
as we pray for rain, tears fall.
with precious lives lost
families are then shattered~
firemen all weep.
I loathe what I have become
Things I tacitly permissed
Weigh me down with water
Shameful of my tears
That I am thin of heart and humour
Quick to temper now
Hard and dark, where once
Was soft and light
It is me whose hands are bloodied
I held the dagger and carved
Into myself for attention
Now I weep for me
Weep Africa, weep on.
The battle with death is one we dare not to fight,
For the call from the great beyond is outside the scope of our existence.
Just as our known hero Ngugi Wa Thiong'o has fallen,
Like countless unknown heroes forgotten to time,
We shall all follow this path of no return one by one.
Fight Africa, fight on.
The foot prints left on the Sands of Time by Ngugi Wa Thiong'o are known to many.
As we follow his foot prints,
We are alive to the fact that there are other foot prints,
Though known to few,
That we must follow.
J-oy
O-r
A-gony,
N-ormal
C-ries
A-rrive,
A-pplying
C-omfort
B-rought
A-round
Y-ou
©bfa060525
Monocrostic (Birthday of Joan Caacbay)
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