Tag Archives: soft

locked-out blues

I was doing fine meeting
My words according to time
But the poetry written to save me
You wanted all of that and more
Keep me, collect me
Like the rare records on your shelf…

~*~

it’s careless,

the way i think.

your broken wings

don’t carry me far

but you’re a bad habit

and i’m an addict

with a song on my lips

and a smile on my lucky pen

and i could barely hold

a thought in my head

without shivering

at what it might do to me.

hold it apart and catch

the raindrops falling

on my open window,

writing poetry all

over the shadows of oak

bookcases, as i sit in

my empty bedroom

and conjure up a fiction.

there’s a blush

in my alabaster bones

unlike the ones in

my cheeks, trapped

in the midst of

a tedious ballet and

the infinite breaks of my

scratched vinyl records,

and i’ll cascade away again;

and i’m misty-eyed.

your arctic gaze is gentle and

obscured by plumes of

smoky cinnamon

take another quiet sip

of the words painted over

in an artist’s epoch,

and let me in…

let me in.

~*~

What are you fighting for? (I was doing fine)
Too sad I’m same as yours? (And the days
I would catch myself from falling)
What are you fallin’ for? (Keep me, collect me
Like the stones you would find on the beach)
Too sad I’m same as yours? Tumble me smooth
You know it’s some of that I need…

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Oubliette

the thorny thought

it grows and grows

through dahlias grey

and crimson throes

.

it pierces past

the hardest stones

the softest veils

and diamond bones

.

the thorny thought

thus rages harsh

climbs castles high

to reach the stars

.

it pierces past

the coldest blood

and empties veins

to the last drop.

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Thanatopsis Erebus

Soft wrists and sharp edges

A dark breath in decline

The disconcerting interplay

Performance of the sign

Moon-blanched vulgarities

Pale innocence on death

Wistful dreams for coroners

Torment thy cozen health

Sedation after manipulations

Lies of century-old adage

Contradictions the affectation

Of this cadenced sabotage

Soft minds and sharp hindsight

Provoke suffocating times

Of this disenchanting execution

Leaving only wordless lines.

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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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Silent Films

For all I know, the best is over
And the worst is yet to come
Is it enough? To keep on hoping
When the rest have given up?
And they go…

~*~

Set the tone to soft sepia and watch me come to life

Like my favourite vintage movies, but silence is optional

I hate to mouth the words but I know that I’m right

And it’s better than to face the music composed in your journal

What you see is what you get, but it’s more than it seems

Amid skylines and downtown fiction, stories of nameless streetcars

I’m waiting under an umbrella, seeing neon signs in rainy grey

Until your clicking red heels arrive to light the pavement up

For the film is never complete without a dazzling star.

~*~

I hate to say I told you so
But they love to say they told me
(Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again…)

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R·A·R·E

“But I will soon forget the colour of your eyes
And you’ll forget mine…”

~*~

Oh honey, just know I think you’re rare

But so do a million pairs of staring eyes

I carved your eternal words on my skin

While their dirty desks are filled with lies

.

But I’ll ignore the protests of my chest

I was your worst, but you were my best

Convulsions staunched won’t be enough

To revive my suppressed detesting to last

.

So let me be your only saving grace notion

Under conflagration, in epileptic inspiration

I’ll be your rage, you’ll be my perfect disease

Cure my unclung heartstrings from mercenaries

.

That vain to steal the gold rush in your tongue

And leave the staccato pain where it all began

You’re staling breath my lungs sought to keep

I can exhale underwater if my onyx skies need

.

A drop of fragile storm, if your drought doesn’t break

And I’ll listen to your soft melodies just to stay awake

They’re all florid sycophants, ostentatious in clamours

They may casually admire, but I would eternally adore

.

Because darling, I always think you’re the rarest of them all

And a million pairs of eyes might look but they’ll never know

How, in this peripheral passion, how bruised and cursed I’d fall

Just to reach the light that you hold, I’ll always stay while they all go.

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Ash & Tongue

Ash is just a word, but why does it taste so ironically bitter in my mouth? Does it hurt to say it, because the conflagrating embers originated from my pharynx, tactlessly ignited after I accidentally swallowed phosphorous nitrate and it corroded against my sandpaper throat and set me on fire? Who would kiss a person with a mouth this filthy? Even the most affectionate of mothers turn their backs away from my chapped sooty lips, bleeding of halitosis and ashes and lies lies lies.

There it is, that word again, pulling my voice under hell and waking me up when I’m having the sweetest dream in my acerbic existence. The exit signs are glowing softly in delicate overtones, yet my bloodshot eyes perceive it as an uproarious neon scream, blinding my eyes, deafening my sight, blackening my vision. The water’s getting colder, I’m caught up in the rip, and my footing has slipped away. I’m swimming, no, drowning in the hazy fumes, dizzy from the medication-addled ozone, and still I could not hear a single truth amid all the false accusations.

He was a man until you destroyed him. You were a girl before I desecrated you, cautiously building you up brick by chalkdust brick, all the while as I’m hiding away the solitary intention of vulgarly demolishing the body that is your temple. And it was all too late for you when you found out. Did you survive all the devastation I caused and rose up from the rubble like a newly-reborn phoenix? Or have your devout worshipers fled the havoc and left you suffocating and buried under all the debris and ashes? Ash is just a name I used to call in my sleep, but why…why does it taste so painful between my teeth?

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january evenings

keep me warm

for my rattly bones

and my shivering flesh

and the very edges

of my frosted fingertips

are rather arctic cold…

so share your tepid breaths

circulating faintly like

your lukewarm blood

and wrap your tiny fingers

in mine, as i ensconce

you around a quiet

embrace, keeping the

both of us warm and cosy

comfortably nestled together

under blankets and pillows

as we rest in the midst of the

brewing tantrum storm outside,

frigid breeze only daring us

to thaw tighter in each other’s

soft, assuring, ember grasp.

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Sleep (is but a dream)

and the words in

my head whispered

(sleep, my dear

you’ll feel better)

but i couldn’t close

my eyes (no matter how

heavy they are)

falling into tonus as

quiet and abyssal

(as the thoughts that

weigh me down)

until my pen no longer

makes sense, fading

and smudging (into an

undecipherable madman’s

meandering laments)

and i wish, and so i wish

for a taste of the stars

(i wish on the sun for some

light to carry home) and

the soft words in my head

whisper (sleep, my dear

after all, there’s nothing better.)

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a soft place to land

in a distant land

of nothing but

rocks and gravel

at the very bottom

i’m standing at

the top, and only

looking for a softer

place to land on.

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