Tag Archives: share

Travel Talk

You won’t believe what I tell you
White coats and clever minds will choose
You get a lot from this, loose tongue and arrogance
It’s not appropriate, don’t think that this is it…

~*~

Let’s cease with the

Uncomfortable pleasantries

As if we didn’t share

Flaxen stars that lit up our

Deathless horizons

.

Past the valleys of hell

And in glimpses that never align

Lies wasted letters and unspoken words

Spilling and cascading in shades of

Scarlet and sapphire once more

.

To halt this. So what do you say

Let’s kick the empty bucket

Over such a perplexing nonchalance

And go the distance over the miles

Where our intersections are amass with traffic.

~*~

It’s hard to compromise
When I see through your eyes
It’s just a common view
I guess it’s lost on you
Now I can talk, no one gets off
I know how you like to…

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Filed under Poetry

Frenemy

i’m so confused

as to whether

i should hate you

for your little trivialities

up for dissection

or like you for

the bigger picture of

the friend with which

i could share every emotion.

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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.

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Filed under Poetry

Room for Seconds

Cold pizza, tie-dye shirts (I don’t care)
Broken hearts, give ’em here
Give ’em here (Where you’ve been)
Hand me downs, gimme gimme
Leftovers, gimme gimme (How many miles)
Sloppy seconds, give ’em here
Give ’em here (I still love you)…

~*~

It’s not the fault of San Andreas

That you went way over the line

Bone chips stuck out of your skin

As you said you were simply fine

Narcotic pain and conversations

Over the rusted telephone booth

And I’ve got teeth marks on me

When you bit me with the truth

I was just your sloppy seconds

Devouring my entire existence

And when you fed your demons

You no longer needed assistance

I was just the emotional baggage

That you left ticking at the airport

You’re contemporary, I’m vintage

So you cut my oxygen tube short

And I was too desperate for shit

I barely felt the knife in my back

I guess salty wasn’t your flavour

So you burnt me charred black

I took my low blows with stride

You chewed with mouths open

Wiped your lipstick off the side

Your goodbye was resentment

And it’s a damn shame we fell out

The bed was shrinking fast for two

I ended up sleeping on the ground

The lies were clear: it’s me or you

But don’t you leave me hanging now

I’m starving and I will be playing fair

And I’ve got enough room for seconds

Even though I know you’d never share.

~*~

And there is not a single place
That I would rather be
I’m fucked up just like you are
And you’re fucked up just like me…

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Filed under Poetry

a poem in the key of high c

we shared

the same

lyrics and

songs

together,

but we

sang in

perceptibly

different

melodies.

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Filed under Poetry

★ without ☆

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

i am wanting

in faith and hope

or so you say

my prayers and

paeans don’t make

it through a day

what’s left of the

ribbons i tie in my

withered hair

and gaze at the

sunset without

any unawares

i’m lacking in joy

and bloat with

sheer despair

and i see all the

world as just one

big daycare

wallowing with

small children

waiting to be fed

spoiled and brute

and discontent

until they’re dead

a cynic, a cyanide

a crass coldhearted

curdled milkmaid

who smashes the

glasses, and steps

on the carnage

i am scarce of love

and emotions, they

say it’s quite unfair

but i’m willing to try

all this silliness, only

if someone will share.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

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Filed under Poetry, Southern Constellations

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…?

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Filed under Prose

Fragmented Soul

I said that with you, I would gladly share

But I didn’t state that I would simply give

What’s mine is mine, and both halves is fair

We’ve both equal amounts of a broken sieve

.

My fragile heart’s carefully laid inside a velvet-lined box

Not slapped rudely on a bare collection plate

So don’t you dare throw the chains and pick the locks

And snatch it for your mad experiments and to sedate

.

My motley soul is mine to solely control

So cease your petty thievery and sad affectations

Fragments of my crystal that you heartlessly stole

Because no one would offer your empty box any affections.

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Filed under Poetry