Tag Archives: childhood

anatomical dissection: bones

when i was a kid

i broke my left arm

when i climbed up

on our neigbour’s

backyard oak tree

.

and when i grew up

a scar grew with me

it climbed up when i

fell down and spread

to the rest of my body.

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lollies and laughter

sticky lollipops

turning his mouth purple

grinning as eight teeth

crunch against sugar enamel

.

sticky lollipops

turning her mouth pink

lips as treacly as candy

as toothless gums go clink

.

sticky lollipops

one for him, one for her

sharing flavours playfully

with babbles and a purr

.

sticky lollipops

all over the mat and toys

plastic wands waved about

dancing to nursery noise

.

sticky lollipops

of grapes and strawberries

but there ain’t a sweeter thing

than these two honeys with me.

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Sidewalk Outlines

I’m half remembered, halfway across the world
Twice removed from a second home
The shadow of a ghost in an old haunt
With a lease on life, ’cause I can’t afford to own
When being young starts getting old
A new place saves face or so I’m told
Be the new kid, on an old block…

~*~

Chalk letters and chalk outlines

Of your body in the blacktop

Playground games that defined

The monsters I couldn’t stop

.

I’m always critical of critics

Casting stones among its kin

As short-sight lovers kicked

Caution off the curbs to win

.

My criminal words misleading

The restless radio remembering

Those vertigo grenades I threw

And I never thought it through

.

Friction turns to sparks but

There is no fuel to feed me

A life of lies, forget-me-not

Legends of a falsified story

.

It’s a big mistake, a big revelation

Towards problematic medication

Substances crafted to taste bitter

Pretending to make me feel better

.

Mechanical cities erasing our names

So say goodbye to playground games

Struggles turned to memories killed

And your chalk outline is left unfilled.

~*~

I’m just a moment, so don’t let me pass you by
We could be a story in the morning
But we’ll be a legend tonight—
Cause you and I, we’re alive
But just for a moment…

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Little Blue Boys

Little chubby blonde boy

And his big brother holding

A blue mini-soccer ball

Oh, here they come a’gigglin

Little chubby blonde boy

And his big brother grinning

In their olive-green trike

Oh, there they went a’ridin.

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Wild One

It’s been a year, kid.

I don’t have to constantly check up on you anymore, and be paranoid whether you are still breathing as you slumber, unknowing, naive, innocence in its most delicate form. I can only count your heartbeats, slow and steadily warm, whispering reassurances to me, making me believe still in a transient hope on a world so lost and pitifully dark. All the nights I’ve had to give up, interrupted sleep I’ve had to bide my tired mind by, the erstwhile activities and further indulgences I’ve had to forego to help in taking care of you, the stress, the weeping, the spewed bodily fluids, the horrid diapers, the sacrifices ventured and risks undertaken, everything and nothing all at once…I suppose it was all worth it in the end.

You’re still here, after all, breathing, laughing, crying. Living. One year in. It’s crazy to think just how much has changed, how everything has been elicited by insignificance, how everything slows down yet speeds up at the same time, nerves racing clockwork ticks, how much has changed, how far you have grown. It only feels like a trembling fingertip away when you were a newborn infant delivered from the hospital, and, lying there, ensconced in white silken sheets and resting with umber eyes wide shut, I saw a part of the universe that was apt with the stars in the sky. I basked in the warmth of someone who doesn’t have to be arrogant and jaded like the rest of the heartless horizons, a soul, that was a diamond moon, uncarved, pristine, an enigma. An incandescent light that catches the sparkle in every worthwhile heart. I left the room dazed that day, with ink all over my hands, holding a crumpled piece of paper, unsure of my own senses, pensive and ocean-deep.

Admittedly, I’m not the best babysitter. Sometimes I’m clumsy and end up panicking amid bloodstains and scarlet bumps. Sometimes I get vexed and irritated by your inability to act and your constant incessant shrieking, for heaven knows what reason. Sometimes I snap at you for your tantrums and for the things I know are not under your control. Most of the time I don’t know what the hell I’m even doing when I hold you. I know I’m a child-hating misanthrope that doesn’t take any shit from any other snot-nosed bratty brat that dare crosses my path, and I should be a choking hazard, kept fifty miles away from any person under 5 years old. But you are the exception.

Your shrieking laughter trumps all the crying and wailing I’ve endured from you. Your adorable cooing and chubby tottering alike, the fact that I was there for your initial steps, your first word (“Wa-ta.”), the numerous milestones that can’t be replaced by a million million-dollar paintings. The jubilance and uplift your cloudy childish curiosity banishes my demons temporarily and ties my emotions to a raspberry red balloon, sends me shimmering against your diamond moon, providing me an ephemeral glow, enough to get me though the day. You make me this incredibly maudlin and histrionic, hell, not everyone has the ability to do such a thing. And yes, I may have lost my room when you arrived, true enough, but I found a home in you.

To my sister’s chubby little child, stay wild and have fun, not only in your jungle themed party (which somehow has a clown?), but in this jungle of a life as well. True enough that your untainted whims may not last forever, but the memories remain like butterflies in my tongue, fluttering, tinting my lips with chromatic stained glass artworks, tasting of fairy dust and sweet sugary candy and an indistinguishable distinct bitter undertone, a hueful transfer with every cuddle and pinch and peck. You’ve got no reason to be sad, you need no reason to be happy, which is why you’re smiling all the time. You’ve got many people who love you unconditionally, so beat your chest and swing on the vines, you’ve got a lot to roar about. Don’t grow up too soon now. You deserve that much, at least.

Happy birthday, Gianni-ya.

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Childhood Plays

Your giggles

Of a childish mirth

Your chuckles

Continuously worth

Its innocence

Contagious to the

Blackest soul

As I just find myself

Also laughing

For no reason at all

Which delights

Your joy even more

We end up in

Cycles of jubilance

And silliness

Benevolence sublime

Tickle sessions

Of a cynic and a child

A baby playtime

And I can feel my heart

Smiling along

Without hesitating pain

As your pure love

Takes away all the strain

Of my darker days.

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Parental Guidance

The dragons you chased

With a battle cry staged

Using a flashlight sword

In your afternoon plays

.

The vitamins you took

When they chased you

Back in your sleep, and

The tantrums you threw

.

The book with the cats

Overalls that you wear

The toys you tossed in

From under the chairs

.

I rest with my cup of tea

And you gargle your juice

Another day, another view

Of being in a child’s shoes.

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A Week Washed Up In Melancholy’s Undertow

~*~

SUNDAY: TIE ME UP AGAIN

The bright stars are rudely burning my eyes

And that cherry sunset sky is badly rotting

The moon frowns back in a dulled disguise

When my soul finds life severely disappointing.

~*~

MONDAY: YOU COULD FILL ME IN

I dial the knobs and tune to your station radio

And once upon a time, I heard melodic music

But your airwaves changed into a distorted audio

And now all I hear is a dinning unpleasant static.

~*~

TUESDAY: I’LL BE FINE WITH IT

I shoot my bullet kiss through a small shaky dime

Held between your teeth and trembling fuchsia lips

An inch more, a heart-less, and you might’ve died

But are you glad, my dearest love, that I’ve missed?

~*~

WEDNESDAY: I KNOW HOW TO SWIM

Call my arctic cloudy hopes dangling overhead

But it’s raining storms, a cumulonimbus crying

And I’m left shivering, sneezing, badly drenched

Rendered sick by my own coldest falling optimism.

~*~

THURSDAY: SEND A HURRICANE TO ME

These playground games are no longer fun

The red metal swing set is creaky and rusted

Empty staccato of children shouting as they run

From a happy childhood long past evanescenced.

~*~

FRIDAY: SINKING NEVER FELT SO SWEET

Fade in, fade out, show of just another sfumatic spectre

Blending in the vestiges, blending in the damp colours

Fade in, fade out, fade until I turn into an invisible grey

Waiting for the day I fail to reappear and completely fade away.

~*~

SATURDAY: STUCK IN YOUR UNDERTOW

Bobbing against the deepest aquamarine waters, float, sink, float, sink, float, sink, float

Submerged into an abyssal trench of disconsolence, hanging barely by a splintered boat

Drown, gasp, struggle by the waves, yet in the end I curl into a peaceful ball and sink slowly

And accept the pressure that crushes my weakened lungs as I drift in undertows of melancholy.

~*~

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