Poetry
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Such is the wayfor the both of usto keep screamingthat faint tune,calling each otherat our final hour,from across an ocean.Filled with tides,our hearts were blessed,while holding hopelike a bouquetof withered flowers.All fallen petals,we counted, while webelieved that wecould revive it.Whispering sweet,fatal promises,wandering into streetsthat went nowhere.I will continueto weep for ourexpected moment.Nothing could keepitself ongoing,…
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He stands. With a beating heart that hopes to bloom, again, he stands, until he finds himself sinking with that heart. Down to earth, bringing ear to soil, attempting to find an echo in drowned scenery. His tears have poured from such storms hanging like tattered curtains above his head. His fingers have trembled, matching…
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I’ve led usto being transformed,while hiddenbehind black curtains,bleeding before we weep,weeping before we sleep.All at once, becomingsomething hideous,while ashamed to breakourselves, apart fromthe scorning sun.It illuminatesthese dreadful wounds,as we build ourselvesdown to submission,lusting after emptiness.What could we become,when we remove the barrierthat keeps our feetfrom crossing that bridge?We want to, to riseagainst the currentthat pulls,…
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On this roadwith countless grains,having bloomed nothingbut what comes fromnaked wounds.Is it color,or it is a void?I’ve been revivingwhat I’ve brought down,remembering the painI’ve let becomethese swirls,these storms.Love has becomea bleak bitterness,a flavor on a pairof muted lips.Who will I be,as soon as I seethat last stone?It could beon the final milewhen I might speak,when…
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Walk a thin line,trusting those whoknow you, during betteror worse moments,devising an ideafrom collected matter -the residue of the last.We hold out hope,lit as a reused candle,extinguishing whenour arms get tired.What a weight, it is,to keep this boat movingtowards what was believedto be the final island.Bringing togetherall those who knowthese burdens,this water that headsdown from…
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All it was, to her, was a reception. She received, but she left behind an important piece to the whole. Something that she couldn’t comprehend, perhaps? All it has been, since to repeat it becomes needed, was a reception. Something to hold, someone to hear whisper to her heart in a space inside of it…
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I’ve filtered enough language,becoming silent, amidstthis eternal absenceof who I held, who I wouldhave kept until we would meld,becoming what we neverbecame, under the sun,weeping while blind.You went overthat mountain, seeinganother light thatsomeone held,reviewing your torture,promising more endurancethan all I passed along.I went out, like a torch,continuing to love,hearing your voicein the wind, dragging leaves,twisting…
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Hold the wayfor this spillageof excess, inside along and emptyhallway.There was alwaysa need to keepourselves, from beingtoo late to fill upour eyes,always our eyes,when seeing what weleft to decay.Why would wekeep finding somethingto go on for, when wereuse it, always it -the fatal impressionof keeping herethe feeling.That feeling thatwas never what wewould ever keep.It kept…
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I’ve often saidlife’s too short to speakthese hard words,if I couldn’t just place themwhere I couldn’t see them.I’ve often dressedthis form of minein bandages of black,showing up for a funeralfor history’s voices.Roaming in the spaceof memorized icons,those who’ve gone forward,swallowing their tears -the juices of fruit.Bleeding upon bedsheets,making love with the sorrowthat I’ve come to…
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Divorcing the decisionto be removed, to insteadbe moved, inside your mind,rowing in this path,where on either sideis the result of weatherthat never stoppedits infinite descension.Remove what weighs us,as being modest is too closeto looking like fear.I strip from your shelldrenched attire,laced in prior exhaustion.Freeing ourselvesfrom needless toil,into open, crisscrossingembraces in a tempestof tangled limbs.I have…
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Here’s hopingyou’ll remove yourselffrom your darkness,blinding yourselfto comfort, from sunlight,being reborn in a differentplace, entirely.Love can reforgeyour volcanic heart,erupting at slight,burdening deliverancesof anger in the morning,and hopelessnesscoming whenever youreject warmer colors.As your witness,I can present the letters,the path, that goes straight;but will you twist aroundyour purpose, in this story?I can provide what will,or what might…
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Darkened byfate’s rewritten verse,as I move, to winback that feeling -the one I feltamong night’s growingstate of deprivation.I hold a blank sheetof torn paper,bleeding words from dust,forming images,from a picture I haveburned into memory.I’ve never been one formoving apart from the sun,while I keep holding onfor the sake of knowing whennotes will be re-sung.To music,…
Modern Romanticism 