Tag Archives: memories

Missing Maidens

As the maidens flourish and falter

Under soft halos of an ashen moon

Scarlet begonias forget their heart

The daze of the mist in foggy gloom

Lost memories flicker away and fade

While fireworks of blue stars shower

A ritual of evanescent, in acrylic grey

And the maidens effloresce and falter.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

No One Does It Better

If these whispered words don’t make sense

Because all the things you say are in past tense

I’ve never seen a frown quite like yours, dear

We’re moving too quick, I can barely see past the tears

.

Things won’t change with the blink of a blue eye

There’s a crash in the system, and a sun that won’t die

Leave it all behind when your feet is barely touching the ground

Searching for a secret place where you could never be found

.

Let’s stay out late and laugh about the childish lies that could never be

If I chain myself to your bleeding wrists, would I be set free?

But somehow there’s a moral somewhere in this addicting vice

I’ll simply smile behind your back and I’ll play nice, I can play nice

.

This was nothing but trouble, but it was all worth it to me

We’re going down, I told you about how it’s gonna go wrong badly

The alarm is sounding, red lights flashing, and we’re dancing under fire

Can you still hear me as you drown under the depths of desire?

.

The bitter taste was my saving grace, my only reason to live

I’m too tired to find my problems now, I’m too tired to know what I can give

I don’t know what I was thinking when I pulled the curtains shut

The rope around my neck is keeping me hanging on, please understand that

.

I would be out of line to say how damn beautiful you look tonight

But even if I’m not allowed to speak, that doesn’t mean that I’m not right

I was hoping to take a hold of the lost future we saved for the last

It wasn’t the best we had, but it’s better compared to the past

.

The headache is beginning to grow, I think it’s highly contagious

The room is spinning and my vision’s blurring, and I’m going delirious

Your honesty is something to be jealous about, and your vanity’s not your sin

Your virtues burn faster than your cigarettes, inhale the smoke within

.

I woke up with all your bags packed and gone, and the cab you hailed was denying

This is just another difficult test, and it’s one that I seem to be failing

The grudges I held onto left faster than your memories, I’m not losing sleep over you, it’s true

And if there’s any reason to move past, dear, no one does it better than you.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

i also want

to write about

positive things

and happy thoughts

and dainty memories

full of floral words

and eloquent hearts

dripping like pastel

raindrops off my mouth,

but how can one do so

if all he has is a black pen

piercing the chambers of

his black-bled heart?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

metal & skin (iv.)

i remember

memories

more vividly

when i’m

in pain,

so was it

my sin not

to forget, if

i want the

memories

to remain?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

SoCal

It’s the little things

For whimsicalities

In silly pink strings

With funny stories

On local reminisce

And tour bus hey’s

Amused memories

Scattered in space

Shared ecstatically

In colourful affairs

Tattooed in pastels

Of Key Street wear

Childhood brothers

Hardships and fun

All crazy as drunks

The boys in a band

It’s the little things

That lasts for while

It’s their happy days

That makes me smile.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

🌹 Red Rose of the Dead 💀

♪Isabelle♪

I fell in love with this song

It struck me in red and blue

I fell in love with your song

And that made me love you.

~*~

× Under the Ice ×

Such tears that pierced my iris

And took away the neon lights

T’were all reduced to nothings

When along with me you cried.

~*~

≈The Sound of a Ghost≈

How can a voice I’d never heard

From the soul I can never yearn

How can a heart I never learned

Make every note and tone burn?

~*~

¡ In the Bronx ¡

The rage, the anger, shredded in

The suicide song written on skin

The interlude of a flamenco beat

Your agony was always my treat.

~*~

♥ Love Will Surely Bring Me Pain ♥

The very first memory out of many

I can still remember how it told me

Of liquid limerence behind the pain

Intertwining screams, love remains.

~*~

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

lucid

I thought we had a damn good thing
A penny in the couch and a diamond ring
So baby stay away from my friends
‘Cause I need them to carry me…

~*~

i don’t

ask you

to stay away

from my

friends

because i love

the aloof

poignancy

that your

memory lends

i only

ask you

to stay away

when the

moonlight dims,

and the

nightmares are

renewed…

just stay away

from my d r e a m s.

~*~

When it’s over, I’ll count back from ten
And you can listen to glass hearts shattering.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Implicit Insignificance

I was once a liar, a demon, a heartless creature, rendered ash and rust

And you were but that magic trick, a pawn, a faint speckle of fairy dust

All eyes through the valley of betrayed angels, lost in a damaged haze

That we past resided in enraptured company, dear, remember those days?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Vanishing Point; All That’s Left Are Traces Of You

And without you is how I disappear
And live my life alone forever now
Can you hear me cry out to you
Words I thought I’d choke on
Figure out I’m really not so with
You anymore, I’m just a ghost
So I can’t hurt you anymore…

~This Is How I Disappear; My Chemical Romance

~*~

If you found me gone one day, with nothing but a whirlwind of scattered letters and notebooks and papers, with one parched fountain pen dying of dehydration in the middle, lying forgotten in my dislimned room like an ironic tableau, to indicate the figure, the mass, the emptied space which my once-corporeal missing body once occupied, what would you do?

Would you silently shut the door, lock the house, and leave, leave that damned place that swallowed me whole, and start afresh, burying all memories and preludes of mine, allowing it to be covered in dust and cobwebs along with the crumbling papers, in that lonely dark room in a restless abandoned house, doomed to become another cheap haunted tourist attraction—?

Or would you take a deep breath, gathering all your aplomb and composure in a single oxygen intake, preparing yourself for the worst yet still hoping for the best, grip the knob with sweaty quivering palms, open the door with a prominent creak, and step in cautiously, allowing the darkness of the shadows and the lingering ghosts of what once was to chill your bones and embrace your every being—?

And if you were to choose the latter, if you were to gather all the papers, crumpled, clean, torn-up, every scrap and bit scribbled upon in a fit of either ennui or frustration, and put them together, as if they were the puzzle pieces that will finally solve the complexities and mysteries of my shambled life, and you read them, word for word, letter for letter, line for line and rhyme for rhyme, the mindlessly scratched punctuation and intentionally scratched out words blurring into a singular monstrous emotion that discreetly ravaged and poisoned your child’s system internally, now reforming and threatening to tear at your soul’s throat, as you read the unorganised pastiche of all my regrets, passions, agonies, jubilances, those things that I wanted to say, those things I never said, and those things that I will never get to say, what would you do?

Would you tie those anthologies of pain and paradise altogether in a messy little bundle, and without so much as an apology nor prayer, simply toss them gracelessly into the raging hungry fireplace, letting each scrap of paper curl up like dying butterfly wings and be devoured by the rising flames, starving for memories to destroy, turning my thoughts into bitter ashes, no longer to be sifted and repaired, rather only left to the whim of the wind, to get caught in people’s eyes, leaving my life to be an open case, speculated and falsified upon, leaving the words of the dead to remain dead and only an unspoken echo, a pale blot in the fabric of time—?

Or would you tie those florilegiums of hurt and happiness altogether in a neat little bundle, and with utterances of faith and assurance, share them eloquently with the others wanting in hope, letting each page be turned with eager fingers like flourishing petals of blue forget-me-nots and be devoured by the willing masses, voracious for memories to engrave, turning my ponderings into a spectrum of colours, no longer to be ignored and rotting away in a locked grey vault, rather to be left in the whim of the breeze, to get caught in people’s hearts, leaving my life to be stipulated and validated upon, making the words of the dead come back to life and to gain a voice of their own, a universe itself in the tapestry of time—?

And if you opted for the second decision, and you succeeded, what would you do if you returned to my room one day, and found me, sitting casually on my bed, with an overflowing ink jar dripping murky tears on my desk and a flurry of blank sheets of paper like a hurricane of unconceived literature on the spotless carpet, taciturn as I write out brand new compositions with a faint yet genuine smile on my solid scarlet lips, content with my slowly unfading existence, colliding shades of carnation and pastel tints efflorescing on my pallid cheeks and everywhere else that the bleeding colours chances to touch, revived by your efforts, revived by the memory of my name fresh in everyone’s sentience, unaged and youthful, looking as if I never left, this place, this world, and a void in your mind, in the very first place?

Would you tell yourself that all this, was simply nothing but a tired delusional dream of yours, disintegrating into the aether as soon as you make contact with it—?

Or would you dare step in again, completing a full möbius strip of the vanishing cycle, into my bright phantasmic room, and touch my skin to see if the bubble pops…?

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Auf Wiedersehen.

A closing chapter on a holiday

Epilogue looming near ahead

Felt like a thousand summers

That have never even existed

.

Goodbye to idyllic afternoons

Melting like a sluggish sorbet

Goodbye to those hazy nights

Under the starry skies’ blanket

.

All wistful childhood fantasies

Within a cloudy thought bubble

All shards of broken memories

A faint wispy 5 ‘o clock stubble

.

Replaced by steamed machines

Clockwork chores of daily grind

Lacklustre façades, bitterly ends

The turning key eddying to wind

.

Melancholy fever infects my head

Sands of time slip from my grasp

Final farewell to the lost moments

That I wished would eternally last.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry