Tag Archives: bloom

Colourblind Memory

And when I see you
I really see you upside-down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here…

~*~

It was an easy kind of self-destruction; the one I never had to beg for.

After a few nights of staying awake and listening to cheaply-constructed songs on the static radio, I was already haunted. Copper chain links that stabbed at the fictional horizon and left unstitched scars on the exposed wind. Shy vespertine flowers that bloomed in the most coruscant spectrums, but only when no weeping eye was there to witness their exquisite grandeur and compose concerto symphonies about it. An infinite, arrogant, wakeless kind of blue that rivaled every transatlantic and pacific direction that I chased; but, unlike the oceans of this planet so drenched and cold and jaded to the bone, no one is ever able to cross it, and no one ever will.

And violet. A damnable shade, akin to roses-not-reds and forget-me-nots, that violet. A bleeding, dirty kind of violet that left filthy, undecipherable Roschach stains everywhere. Splattering the bruises of my halted tongue, shading the asphyxiation of my untouched lips, violently overtaking the rock-steady sorry secret that was divulged and diluted all too late. It painted a tragedy that only the most damaged and paranoid artists could understand, and rending shreds of the purest agony down my colliding ribs that not even the most genius maestros and starving dilettantes could begin to dissect; for it was a foreign anatomy. A different unknown. A beyond the beyond. It was brutally twisted inside my veins and gauchely discarded somewhere in between sense and sanctuary, photographed and arrested in another postcard vintage lie. I could write graphite letters at the back all I want, but I’ll never swim away from the indigo waves in front. It was our holiday memory, drowning me again and again and again.

Absolutely useless. It couldn’t aid my breathing. It couldn’t save my sleeping. It was a disease that was highly susceptible only to my atrophied words and comatosed syllogisms—the same unfortunate ones that are now leaving my chafed fingers but never my wornout mind, like you, like you, like you.

Unrelenting. Unsuspending. Unending.

All my colours were inverted. And no one can turn it back the right way.

If there even was one.

~*~

Please don’t worry, lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The spectrum’s A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years…

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Spares

in x’s and o’s

and little shows

and softness that

makes me shiver

.

the bloom is sent

directly to my heart

like a vital sign

and verdancy delivered

.

in you’s and why’s

and quaint smiles nice

you’re a taker, not a giver

.

but when i’m left

with nothing else,

i find that you always

have something

for me left over.

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blood red, snow white

Wake up in a dream, frozen fear
All your hands on me
I can’t scream, I can’t scream, I can’t escape
The twisted way you think of me
I feel you in my dreams, and I don’t sleep…

~*~

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom today,

lush petals on a pillowed heart

.

i was finding my way

to return from tepid tides

breaking away from venus light.

.

are you hiding your needles?

From which i used to attract the

sovereign flies with, fettered

.

among suspicious hostile twitches

and pulled-off moth wings

decaying with secrets in the kitchen cabinet

.

i do not deserve absolution.

I deserve punishment and jealousy

patched upon each humilified aphorism

.

i am no longer concerned if i have

already bled out, or breathed in,

or both. or perhaps none.

.

but i am fairly certain of the

fingernail scars, tracing louvre patterns and

loveless artwork all over my arms

.

restrained; concealed amid furious

ensconcement and violent bruises

almost as pure and as fresh as

.

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom yesterday,

lush petals covering a beaten heart.

~*~

I can’t save your life, though nothing
I bleed for is more tormenting
I’m losing my mind and you just stand there
And stare as my world divides
You belong to me, my snow white queen
There’s nowhere to run, so let’s just get it over
Soon I know you’ll see you’re just like me
Don’t scream anymore my love, ’cause all I want is you…

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Overcast

Outside for the first time in a long time
You said you can’t remember what it’s like
To feel more than cold on the inside
But the sunrise will come again and you’ll be just fine…

~*~

It’s been too long

Since I last felt sad

When the pink clouds

Didn’t make me mad

.

It’s been too long

Since I last had a motion

To mess things up

Fall away from the season

.

It’s been too long

Since I last felt the hurt

Sinking deep in my chest

Breaking apart my worth

.

It’s been too long

Since I’m out of style

When the cold was fine

I hung around for a while

.

It’s been too long

Since I shed a real tear

Let myself slide away

Succumbed to my fears

.

It’s been too long

Since I last waited again

For failure to go away

Let the dark into my skin

.

It’s been too long

Since I last saw a daylily bloom

Summer’s just a breath, and I want to stay

But it’s been too long since I last found a reason.

~*~

You are the rustling of leaves
And you are that honeysuckle breeze
You are the sunlight
Shine onto me, shine onto me…

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western trees

The silhouettes, they play the part
Their east coast digs are works of art
But the sickness sleeps inside our bones
With solipsistic overtones…

~*~

oh, how quiet the songs

of the western trees impede

amid soft tantrum of the breeze

and falling taffeta leaves

dislimn the topaz rays that glaze

when the sun adores its haze

and transforms honeysuckle brie

drops that reach your eyes so sweet

as pastel flora invites neon grass

and twines of hurtful weeds that pass

for an interlude on clement grudges

and a chance to altogether flourish

the kismet that kisses skins and knees

bruised blackcurrants and peonies oblique

tasting just like lemonade lunette

as the campanile rings out for sunset

oh how lulling, these summer songs

of the western trees’ symphonies

amid hums and chirps of solstice cicadas

and falling hearts resting at ease.

~*~

From the burbs’ to the streets now, it’s a revival
The spirit is found in the idealistically idle
The age of excess, I just love it…

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Schmetterling

I don’t wanna know where your heart goes
I don’t wanna die out of your throes
I don’t wanna know where the wind blows…

~*~

She was an exquisite butterfly

Her fragile and delicate wings

Shimmering in pastel colours

As it catches against sunshine

And I’m the withered daffodil

That she’s fluttered away from

After sucking all the sweetness

From my once-blooming bones.

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long nights

Oh, how its raining
Oh, how the water falls
Into the safe things
We tried to set in stone
I can’t replace you
I can’t escape you now…

~*~

it’s gonna be a long night

without your stars to count

this time i wonder if the planet

breathes without a pause of doubt

i wish the ocean was as blue

as your feather words and halo eyes

i close away my mind just to think

there’s no sugar without a hint of spice

but under the bed where flowers bloom

the sour notes never leave your arms

and the nightlight illuminates my dreams

where loving you does me no harm

but i lie to myself as i lie awake

wondering if giving up control was my mistake

ivory piano and sheep lulling desperation

as i await the end of an endless oblivion

i can only wish i didn’t feel this much

as i lay down my thoughts without a sound

and without your skin to be my respite

i know it’s gonna be another long night.

~*~

But I remember the nights when you’d lie with me
Where we’d talk and we’d touch and we’d fall asleep
I wake up in your arms and I’d feel at ease
But now its just me and I lie awake
And I toss and I turn and I see your face
When I wake from a dream it won’t go away…

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eau de cologne

swathes of perfume—

a familiar scent in the storm

bewildered by wonders

and shadows on the dictaphone

renegade tears; again

they surround charlatan hearts

in sounds of scissor envy

the wineglass is fermented sour…

time vanishes into aether.

the threadbare tale of old lovers

bloom on daybreak scorch

akin to an elaborate kaleidoscope

incinerating infinite galaxies.

your anarchy is no longer ghastly

and the oasis of the cityscape

blinks out in a mosaic, one by one

as i quell my febrile miasma

and twist sullen on my empty bed

your form outline is long gone—

but your lingering fragrance remains.

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The Callalily’s Song

You make me twist in my dreams

Diamonds fall from my eyes as I seem

Like a happy wave of melancholy

With heavy doses of sharp-taste irony

.

I can catch the gaze but not the embrace

I’ll hear the words but I won’t waste

Another second with such distal aches

Shivering in my spine as I break

.

A million emotions that jump in my blood

Are better than vessels drained of god

And my cheeks bruise again from the thought

Of dead roses in bloom and lungs in knots

.

What was bridged in that fateful midsummer

Shall last, interstitial, a transient forever

For perhaps the hazardous sins I’ll commit

In contusions are arrested in vignettes to omit

.

It’s the golden state glow of your undertow

Bringing me under and letting me go

Hidden in virulent sonatas I shall dare to chase

For a chance at hope to see your divine face

.

It may be the perpetual hurt that keeps me awake

And I may reach for sunshine blue but I won’t see it stay

But I won’t ever get tired, no, I’ll let my heart do all the talking

And listen to the rain for lost passion that keeps on singing.

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In Fiore

Begonias bluster vividly

Past my drenched songs

Though I never see them

Serenading airs in bloom

Papery petals whispering

Lullabies of a missing ache

Lost in faded throes of woe

Though never gone too soon.

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Filed under Poetry