Tag Archives: writing

word vomit

And here we go again with all the things we said
And not a minute spent to think that we’d regret
So we just take it back, these words and hold our breath
Forget the things we swore we meant…

~*~

i keep wasting my words

on someone who doesn’t

give a single damn anymore

every profanity and melody

symbols and type bringing up

yet another detestable score

.

i keep wasting my words

on someone who doesn’t want

nor deserve it all anymore

and i keep running out of lines

choking on my dictionary

and still you asked me for more.

~*~

I’ll write you just to let you know that I’m alright
Can’t say I’m sad to see you go
Cause I’m not (no, I’m not), well, I’m not…

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Wonderless

instances

of another well-developed meaning

forming sentences within my mind

.

i wonder

if amid all this rapacious confusion

a literary epiphany i’ll be able to find.

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New Year, New Year

I’m in the sky tonight, there I can keep by your side
Watching the wide world riot and hiding out
I’ll be coming home next year
Into the sun we climb, climbing our wings will burn white
Everyone strapped in tight, we’ll ride it out
I’ll be coming home next year…

~*~

The arctic wind tastes of a million ethereal memories

Beleaguering the lost sympathy in my jaded brain

Thinking about all the moments I spent under the sun

The nostalgia that I’ve forgotten so they’ll eternally remain

Leading on, leading on, marching this bittersweet repast

Words that strike to the very bone, another reeling line cast

In inkstains and furious scribbles that cross out the world

And I did what they said I couldn’t, and I didn’t do as I was told

To the divine songs I dance along to, that told me “boy, you’re alright”

Passion, emotion, vindication, separation, in notes that alight

Saying hello but never goodbye to the quaint darling heart I gained

And to the kindred souls still there for me despite all the withdrawing pains

Sure enough, the months may not have been a consistent flurry of good

And most times, things don’t really work out the way that they should

Ebony turns an even darker shade, and gelid rain falls in crashing maelstrom seas

And when I rest my head every night, a litany of emptiness is all I can see

But with the hope that I once lost, I can fervently regenerate it again

Celebrating the end of the days with the guys screaming Viva La Hysteria Bien!

And with only the secrets I traded and faded, the things I don’t have to hide

I may be dead somewhere, in another time, but for now I know, at least…I’m still alive.

~*~

Come on get on get on, take it till life runs out
No one can find us now, living with our heads underground
Into the night we shine, lighting the way we glide by
Catch me if I get too high when I come down
I’ll be coming home next year…

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Of Bards and Boulevards

I am a poet, and I am here to tell you a story.

But, be forewarned, for I do not narrate. I simply leave mischievous glimpses and equivocal fragments for you to pick up and stitch together on your own. I do not wish to be straightforward; for the better adventure is surrendered on a vertical highway. Instead I provide narrow twisted paths and interminable dead ends, unhelpful road signs and perennially blinking broken traffic lights, confusing directions to nowhere that will lead you to everywhere. It is solely up to you to decide where you shall end up, whether it be a populated city with brightly glowing billboard lights, or a dark narrow alleyway with a fetid corpse abandoned under the dumpster. The exact same steps taken can lead to either one at any given time. The travel is truly yours to pursue, and I am merely there to provide you with what scant counsel you might require, and even then, my offers of assistance might be questionable, and the information given will be more misleading than useful. For I am a poet, not a mere storyteller, and my intricate words are your only guide, your sole map and compass in this discordant infinite chaos of a universe that I have created. Never take them as they are, and pray caution, for they do not want you to arrive at your destination. And neither do I.

I am a poet, and I’ll tell you to get lost.

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Odes And Dedications

I’d write you a million letters

You left me at a loss for words

Halfway around the world, yet

You stole my breaths unfurled

.

I’ll compose until my hands ache

And my quill protests ‘no more’

Until I dried up all the ink I have

And literates stop keeping score

.

I’d write you in ballads and sonnets

Limericks, haikus, and silly rhymes

I’d write you odes and lengthy epics

That shall withstand the test of time

.

And all the troubadours and minstrels

Will speak of your name for centuries

Immortalised between yellowing pages

Of prose and verse and lines of poetry

.

I’d write you a million novels and books

‘Til I run out of words to use in every language

And even then, it still won’t fully express

Just how much you truly made this bard change.

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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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rain, rain, don’t go away

i’ve written

a billion words

for the rain

one for each

raindrop that

falls down again

.

drenched in

poetry, chilled

to the bone

neutral weather

in rhythmic

diamond tones

.

hole in quaint

heart, and rest

for the weak

and solace and

comfort is all

my skin seeks

.

i’ve written

a billion words

for the rain

hoping that each

one makes it

fall down again.

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floral notebook

i pluck each petal off

the roses in your faltering

and floral notebook

.

chancing upon every

word, every smudge, every

catchy beat and hook

.

for the girls you kissed

your stars to, for the boys

you laughed with drinks

.

when the days are rife

and navy blue, and when the

midnight’s pastel pink

.

when the songs feel like

a thousand butterflies

chasing rainbows past your feet

.

and the screams endow

glass shards under your skin

and between your teeth

.

i pluck the roses off

your efflorescent notebook

listening to the echoes resonate

.

across the universe and in

a million miles, the scarlet petals

make another heart detonate.

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silent summers and wasted memories

They used to be the rivers
That would take us away
But now you only call me
Every Christmas and my birthday…

~*~

diving into

liquid reveries

and searching for

lost words

i could never

set past my

grievous tongue

in endless

nights of misadventure

and chicanery

rife with fondness

and hyperbole

and playful kicks

jovial as it hits

our wayside brains

though never

directly spoken

we were speaking

in a language

that only we

could decipher

leaving the rest of

the world to wonder

what amuses our

strange souls so

little did they know

we were laughing

at them all along

for they could

never understand

how these broken gears

spin and stutter

and how we turn such

mechanical gnashes

into a symphony

listening to each other’s

lilting cacophonies

until sunset hits

our bloodshot eyes

bidding us its goodnight

and i yearn for those

pastel-shade days…

of glib tongues

talking about stuff

and sheer nonsense

and insensibility

and rancid relativity

and bouts of sovereignty

in blue screen deaths

and sleep infidelity

now a distant polaroid

fettered in grey

and fragmented by time

a memory daze—

i break the surface of

my reminiscing

almost forgetting to

catch my breath

and write the words

i remembered to think

but never said aloud

hoping someone could

still hear the wind…

it was a delicate summer

and yet, rather wasted

on dead air and empty silence

that much, i know

that much, i could see

and that much, i wonder

i wonder if you knew

and i’m rather curious

why are we wasting

time again?

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pens in pain

pen in paper

in hot water

ink in horror

feel no better

pen in paper

‘til i’m sober

write to conquer

pain in paper.

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