Poems
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Devoured,Torn alive,Devoted,Made aliveWith the external endeavorsThat grow into appetite.Sworn to the routine,Without a hand by my side.Withdrawn from the shadowsCreated by light. While it was loveThat etched the scars,As thorns into revealed flesh.When it was a smileThat receded as just another waveFrom the open lanesOf an endless shoreline.
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“Human beings are fragile creatures. If there is any attempt to make us beyond our physical, breakable selves, we are meaning to become divine. However, as that is an impossible task, what becomes proven are even the flaws or imperfections to such ambition. Anything up, must come down, even the human who aspires to beyond…
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While everythingWas a field about to bloom,More than teardropsWatered each root,More than painWas felt from the thorns,More than our livesGrew to become worn. While everythingWas about to be born,More than eyesWere ever opened,More than criesGrew into panic,More than a handWas being comforted.
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These shoresCan shoulder no further dust,Of no more than you were buried to be,Beneath the steps that walk, casually.You can beat the heartEven further for me,When I am onwards towards the naked shore,Apart from sea.You can skip the sounds,As I remember them.The thunder clapsIn its applause, continually. Our sorrows, meant to be bandagedWith the moon’s…
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Here to sayThe earth did not cry without you,Here to always waitUntil the final drop from a cloudCan bring me up.I’ve always had my headRaised towards the skies,Bending angel wings,While gravity keeps me. Here to sayThese eyes were nurturedBy your shadows.Here to always waitFor the sun to fall,For the moon to rise,For a heart to…
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Warmest leaves,Aflame in the Autumn’s entrance.Coldest lipsThat were once radiant with life.I look upon the crossTo see a different man in the same reflection,A sacrifice without meaning.One loss with tears, too manyTo count with the endless leaves,All meant to crumble. Those lips,That with the cold rocks on the moonFell into immaculate white.No color leftWhile sceneries…
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Will you fadeWith the blue to your lips?The sun to your heart,The ocean to your reflectionWhere a thousand seagulls grants hopeFor sailors on their approachTowards the uncertain west. You set, or settledWith the waste and its arrangementOf torn petals, smeared pagesAs you lost your eyesIn the close of a final door.
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Listen,As I turn around,Holding open the doorTowards the hidden avenue.Listen,Walk up to the attic of Heaven.Do you not hear the heartbeats? Place your earTo the wall,Love has reverbed and swelledAs rhythms and tides.We have broken in each other’s current,While time approaches, softlyFor the moment,The minute when a face becomes recognized.
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Yourself is the idleness.Gleams the sun, for your eyes.To decode each vessel in your mind,While the moon attempted to revive. Walk for the grief-filled mornThat drew the melting curtains.Walk in the sounds of birds,Losing feathers upon the mile.Our tears mixed to make the oceans,Our hands held to form the land,While floods were brief,Being broken without…
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Enter the cloudsUpon the stage where nothingEver occurs.Withdraw the propsIn spaces where everythingWas meant to be real. Walk in the sand,Wield the earthUpon your bones.There is a collectivism to individualSuns that never set,While the brightness becomes clouded,While the earth wraps the moralsThat were loose to knowThe self had been wrong.
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Weeping among burial fields,Bandaged in a curtainThat opened with the open wound.Each cure stings,Every sickness reignsIn the throat,In the bowels,With the words I breatheTo let looseAs seeds for a burned meadow. With these hands that draw backFrom the ice that coats the eyes,From the skin that rubs off the cheeksPetaled with tearsFalling for years.
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I am an infantCarved from my own tears.I walk atop black earth,Fumbling through the whitest memories.A clarity I cannot ignore,A blank canvas, I abhor. I am a manWhose first steps were over a cliff.I have been dragged by a rope, backwards,Bleeding from dried lips,Requesting water from clouds,To become, from dirt.
Modern Romanticism 