Said the garbage canSaid the garbage can11 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I swayed back and forth on my
And each time that it brings me a bit closer to the sky
I cry out
from this day..from this day I will not take a breath unless its a deep one
I will only take deep breaths
And I will let my hair down and I will find out where my frowns come from and shut the door
Will flood the floor with gasoline.And light 10 matches just like that..
And if one falls down.I'll call it coincidence.
I wear paralization like some sort of designer pants that has
an integrated print where to put your hands
on incase you want a moment alone with me
I have the tendency to breathe backwards.To feel weak and tired when my heart reaches
maximum speed.To keep the package and throw the filling away.
I have this bad habit to tweak each word before I speak to you (which I often do,even if I dont say
So they come broken and bruised,waiting to be fixed again.You are so sweet when you care.
And repair each one.
I wouldnt say that I am transient.Am I not doing a goo
FriendFriend,Friend7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when my heart breaks,
when my voice cracks
open the world
my nation of words,
you will cross this space
between arms and sighs
to cup my sorrows
to your bosom as your own.
And when the last hiccup
parts our seams,
we will swallow the night
of its dreams
to mend our world with
and puffy skin,
but leave every crack
to mark our way,
The Other WomanThe Other Woman9 years ago in Typographical More Like This
My nights are anchored to his love;
to those windless moments
where reason ends and dreams begin
and the protection of his sighs
fill my empty spaces
The darkness brings with it
silent as the sleep
that exhales between us
I know it is only the treason of the dawn
that sends him back to her
It Rained PaintIt rained paint todayIt Rained Paint10 years ago in Typographical More Like This
splats and dots
dripped off rainbow trees
painted love poems
like a child
BonesBones8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Don't bury me here, please
I cannot bear
these bones to the years
of cold stone and silence
that fill you up with the emptiness
of windchimes on breathless days.
No one will mourn me here
so far from the sea.
Let me retire to the tropics,
bury me among the tangled weeds of the dead,
love-vine wrapped around
the roots and shoots
of my ancestry.
I want the messy grave where
loved ones trek and hunt
the past treasures of memory
in crooked stones,
sheep and goats keeping
silent night watch,
eating paths between graves.
Let the blackbirds raise beaks in song
to remind me one last time
Bequia sweet sweet
Let those old church matrons sing
ancient hymns moving
over every crest of wave
and shake my soul with love.
Plant me under that shady tree,
Scatter these bones among friends,
parents and grandparents
who live in the salt of my tears.
Open me up to the sea,
salt and heat on flesh
one last time
you leave me for (the) dead.
pinkpink, the sun's last blushpink5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
spread across the sky's blue face,
seduced by the night.
la porta e chiusa.la porta e chiusa.9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lately, when i look in the mirror, i see only a woman
you love but never touch... hair falls like 5 am across my face,
my fingers trace thick sheets of glass contorted and transformed
to hold the tea i've been drinking -
to replace the presence of yer lips,
to replenish the grey skies of my skin,
to fill the trenches of this distance between us...
i am (breathing slowly and) settling into an empty bed,
my body broken - begging for five seconds of something
you may never be able to give...
i'm not going anywhere, i say...
leafing thru sleeves, searching for excuses,
but i've checked - and there are no songs for this.
Barbara's Last NachoBarbara's Last Nacho9 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
Today, I had occasion to go near one of the hospitals my late wife worked at. She worked there off and on for over six years.
We often met for lunch at a very small Mexican Restaurant near there. The food is some of the best in town, and she and I were often the only two English speakers in there. It is in truth, my particular favorite place to have Mexican food.
I thought of nothing other than, as I had not been near there for nearly a year, I would have reason to go and enjoy my favorite burrito in town. In truth, thoughts of Barbara intruded not at all. My only thoughts were of my eagerness for the wonderful taste of the foods to come.
As I sat at the table, they brought the usual chips and salsa, and a unique dip that they make there.
It's not very good, consisting largely of Kraft Salad Dressing (a particular Americanism of artificial mayonnaise with a very distinctive sweet flavor) and mixed in it is dried spices, Mrs. Dash, chili powder and the like.
I never cared for it much, a
Letter to the EditorDear Madam,Letter to the Editor8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I feel it is my
Duty to write on issues
About which I know
I have looked around our tiny,
And decided that we are all
Destined for fire and
I base my conclusion on the
Words that I have read
In a thick book
Whose socio-political birth
I choose to ignore.
I write in support of
All those other
Who see what I see
And are otherwise blind
I also write in intolerant response
To any humanistic, non-judgmental
That you have printed
The following indulgences
Are making our country
Inhospitable to the right thinking
Minority of hypocrites
Who sympathise with me:
Creole language speakers
Stella MarisVirgin,Stella Maris9 years ago in Typographical More Like This
protector of seafarers
smile upon me your lunar crescent
and guide me with your
Do not stamp out my moon!
This gilded ark is ready
for the fullness of your tides.
Daughter of men grant me a fisher of men
On this dark night
do not cry Eve's lost tears,
Open up the flower of my soul,
Let me discover the landscapes
of tiny feet.
Create in me an
aqueduct of grace
FrancisFrancis said his heartFrancis5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
was like a hotel; always
room for just one more!
murgulitasă suferi de o mare iubire needucatămurgulita5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
însoţită de o mare poftă
să-ţi rupi oasele încâlcit în sintaxă
să-ţi lăcrimeze ochii usturător
dar să nu te laşi
să fii ridicol până la capăt
să vină femei de serviciu
să îţi şteargă ochii
cu cârpele lor de şters pe jos
bunicile să-şi umezească degetele
să-ţi şteargă obrajii plângăcioşi
să nu-ţi pună nimeni oasele la loc
să te strângi în tine, în liniştea ta
când vine primăvara
când vine toamna
să porţi cu tine
o umbrelă închisă
că poate poate
KissKiss8 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
There's nothing sweeter
than a kiss, except for the
moment right before
n-ar fi chiar raumi-ar plăcea să mă îmbăt un picn-ar fi chiar rau6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
să-mi simt mintea plutind
trupul pierzându-şi greutatea
mi-ar plăcea să te îmbeţi un pic
să-ţi fie buzele moi
să ne închipuim că ne-am îndrăgostit
aşa, în glumă,
să ne pipăim mâinile cu o ştrengară neîncredere
să le atingem, să le strângem,
ca într-un vis în care alunecăm necontrolat
pe luciul unui lac îngheţat
să fii rece şi caldă şi dulce şi umedă
şi fermă şi unduioasă
cum îi şade bine unei femei
să te preschmbi după sărutul unei cupe
în scânteia aceea atât de preţioasă
care-ţi apare uneori în glas
preţ de câteva clipe
mi-ar plăcea să ne îmbătăm un pic
într-un bar pustiu de la capătul p
07un băieţel mucegăit076 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
apă cu gust dulce,
peşti mari, cu mustăţi lungi
şi carnea leneşă,
vântul prin iarba uscată
miros de fân
şi de umbră
ce le petrecem împreună
în lumina cărora îţi scalzi picioarele goale
la patru dimineaţa
ai un ceas rotund
cu curea de piele
lăsat pe noptieră
şi umbrele copacilor
proiectate pe tavanul alb
cu o pată de umezeală
e cinci octombrie
la fel ca un douăzeci şi patru august
dintr-un alt an
privim fotografiile de nuntă
ale bunicilor tăi
şi ascultăm Bob Dylan
de pe un disc cumpărat din Berlin
furtuna izbindu-ne cu valuri.
miez de noapte
în Atlanticul de Nord
EpilogS-a sfarsit. De-abia azi, dar s-a incheiat.Epilog7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Vom deveni, cel mai probabil, niste prieteni de sarbatori(cele mai lungi conversatii vor fi, fara indoiala, urarile de Craciun si de Paste. Si de onomastice, daca ne-amintim.)
Oameni care au avut si au impartasit totul la un moment dat, impart acum si de-acum incolo un simplu, modest salut pe strada. Daca nu e prea aglomerat, desigur, pentru ca altfel, am fi nevoiti sa tipam sau sa alergam unul dupa celalalt. Iar noi am incetat de mult sa facem asta.
Nu ne mai zbatem, nu ne mai revoltam.
Nu (se) mai plange niciunul de asteptare, dezamagire, indiferenta, distantare, negare, deznadejde.
Nu mai e zbucium, nici durere, cum nu mai sunt nici lacrimi disperate, sau intr-un final, resemnate.
Nu ne mai ard obrajii.
Pentru ca nici saruturi neasteptate nu mai are cine sa sarute sau sa fie sarutat.
Nu ne mai dor ochii.
Pentru ca acum nu avem decat sa intoarcem privirea.
Nu ne mai tremura genunchii. Nici de nerabdare, nici de necredinta.
Nu ni se mai pune
My Mother and the BoyWhen that boy left, he left Mama a wreck. She sat in that creaky old kitchen rocker, her thin hair disheveled above clammy, transluscent skin, her black, birdlike eyes glittering like beetles, sunken and strange in her pale face. She moaned whenever anyone passed, but without looking at them, her hands in frantic and mechanical motion knitting row after row of snarled thread. "I let that boy into my house!" she muttered. Occasionally she would get up and pace back and forth across the kitchen, restlessly wiping at various surfaces with a greying little dish towel clutched in her bony fingers.My Mother and the Boy5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Then Joey and I went off to school, and she was alone in the big house, filling the silence only with her own mutterings and the anxious clicking of her knitting needles. The neighbors would grab our sleeve on our way out sometimes, and ask if she was still alive in there, because she never showed her face.
One day, when I drove down to visit Mama, I found her stan
Into Another World Ch: 9Into Another World Ch: 93 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Yawning, Naruto had taken a seat on a small bolder as he took a sip of his water. Damn it was warm in here. How could anyone tolerate this place? Shaking his head, the young man leaned back for a moment as he tried to think on what he should do… least, besides getting to the heart of the temple and getting… whatever it was that he was looking for. Frowning, he looked up at the roof of the temple wondering what was in store for him.
”You okay Naruto?” asked Hinata from within his shadow.
“Yeah, just thinking on what I’m going to do after this temple is done.”
“There are still more temples Naruto… We still have many places to travel…”
“Damn it…” Naruto said with a sigh before pushing himself off the bolder and headed on toward the hallway, which he had assumed to have been a pathway to the heart of the temple. Grabbing a torch, Naruto saw just how dark this place was… why didn
Song of HealingSong of Healing10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Day to night, dark to light,
Fall the sands of time.
Let the years like the gears
Of a clock unwind
In your mind walk through time
Back to better days.
Memories, like a dream,
Wash your tears away.
Like a star in the sky darkness can't reach you.
Light the night, joy is light 'til the new dawn.
Cast away your old face
Full of gloom and spite.
With this mask I will ask
To borrow your light.
15Roşu pur157 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pe verdele deschis
al Minţii tale.
îţi tulbură iubirea
lăsând urme de sare.
aglomerări de stare,
puroi verzui îţi curge
şi sentimente amare.
Roşu şters de vreme
şi verde-ţi este chipul
când sângele-ţi ţâşneşte.
DaughterHer indian dancesDaughter10 years ago in Typographical More Like This
breeze through my nights
her fairy kisses
in pink tulle
and whipped cream
her siren songs echo the ocean
in the morning mist
her farewell is absent
but still she haunts
my heart of tears
What Will Be GoneWhat Will Be Gone3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Salvation in my palm and the sorrow departs from my voice
Her pen sown in the pocket of my denim its rustle is my reminder
Of the turmoil in her blue eyes that pushed me down to shore
Stranded by the river I harvested every lone, forgotten seed
Once the spring awakens and the darkness enters a slumber
Then each thorn in my foot will become a petal of marvelous debris
She does the contrary, more alive with every degree that drops
As her footsteps emerge from beside the bed I hear the perfect storm
There's a light that's sleeping waiting to weep in my time-worn soul
Foolproof keys unlock her leave for my tongue-tied depart
They're the same keys that open the wooden boathouse on the hill
Yet another island is not my place so I'll restrain from drifting away
When the tap water's warm and auburn, my mind remains aflame
I kneel down at the shoreline and watch my troubles drip away
Speak with imaginary angels and await the judgment of her mind
The journey demands attention yet the return spea