I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;Mami promised that she would, but she's tiredand screamed when Maria reminded her senior promis tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,something she doesn't want to cover, and you've alwaysdone a better job of highlighting the subtle graces inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,telling me all the family business, waving her nailsin my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?I plan to take pictures, and the last
Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,And hearing becomes simple background noise,While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonationsYet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,Because “black is free……..”
You were cold insideYour lips tasted ofsummer, of warm days andcherry-flavoured ice,relaxing by the pool side andsmiling against the sun.You should have been too hot,too sticky, too humid.You should have overheated, should havemelted into your bones untilthey turned to ashes, butit never happened.I suppose I should haveseen it coming, butI was so moonstruck overthe way you said my name, soin love with the ideaof love, that I didn't notice the wayyour eyes bled winter.
7 - The Pet PoetI remember when Mommy bought you a black-haired pet for your sweet sixteenth. Its bronze collar said its name was "Poet." You fed it noise from the out-of-tune piano, intense moments involving flesh and razors, and the occasional walk by the lake.At first, he knew only the wolf's howl, purging blood and flames onto the carpets.Everywhere was a smell of extravagance -- like that woman's cheap perfume on the train to work. But you cried a little less, smiled a bit more. And that was when Daddy stopped trying to send it back to the shelter.Soon, you even started watching T.V.(and enjoyed food, dressed nice, made friends.) But T
The HourglassWatch the hands go round and round.Ahhhh, how long have I been sitting here,Listening to the grandfather clock?Watching him ticking away?Watching the polished wood yellow and rot?And with every sound he makesMore maggots eat his wooden flesh.Every grain that falls is an eternity!In the firelight you can see the glass.The dust that coats the cracking bulb,Listening to the sand that trickles down.Listening to the passing hours.With every grain that filters throughAnother man sleeps eternally.The sundial stands defiant!From my leather chair I see it!It stands defiant in the plaza below me!Standing in the moonlit night.Standin
nothing specialthey tell you not to give upbecause you have potential-- and to the ones who simply enjoyyou're probably fantasticbut to those who doyou're simply mediocre,nothing to bat aneyelash at.you're not quite bad enoughto quit, but you're notgreat enough to beremembered.
unrequitedyou make my wordsgather at the hollows of my throatuntil i choke on them.my fingers ache tohold you--but my eyes ache to cry.you're nothing but heart breakwrapped in a bow of something beautiful,like the dust of grace fromfallen angels.i drink a little faster andcry a little harder because the way whiskey and tearsmingle on my lipstastes suspiciously of love.
Thinking.Thinking without thought,Not thinking about a lot.Thinking about what it how it would be,To have a thoughts as endless as the sea.Thinking about the passing time,About the mountains I have not climbed.Thinking about a world gone by,And about the big blue sky.Thinking about love so sweet,And of life crumbling at my feet.To think about everything vast as it seems,Would take as long as counting dreams.So to think without a thought,And not to think about a lot.Would carry on an endless dream,And let time unravel at it's seams.
SeppukuA blue sky greets me as I kneel to the ground.I hear the rushing wind and the sacred water sound.The cold, grey stone upon my knee,As I prepare myself for eternity.I take a solemn look at my silent crowd,Those cruel, dark faces scream so loud.They want me to do the final deed.I'll plunge the tanto in. They'll see me bleed.I look for a while at my full rice bowl,And prepare for the next cycle of my soul.What shall I be? A man or god?Shall my next life be lived in the mud and sod?I finish quickly so we don't delay.By now the light is fading away.I take up the pen and start to write,To put brush to paper is one last delight."
VIIEncore un peu de cendre Au coin de tes lèvresParolescentesJ'épluche tes souhaitsTu laves le cielEn vainEt dans ce vent chaudDes milliers de pétalesDe peau
She's changedIf you looked at a little girl with big brown eyes and soft hair from the crown of her headHer dreams would be big and her worries would be simpleAnd you’d say “She’ll be going places”If you looked at a young girl with a toothy grin and a giddy laughHer pride would be strong and her conscience would be clearAnd you’d say “She looks happy”If you looked at a shy growing girl with her forehead covered and sleeves down to her fingertipsHer eyes would be distracted and her heart would be a drama queenAnd you’d say “I don’t know who she is”If you looked at a maturing girl
The Boy Who WaitsThe train rolls past the selfish boy,The boy who stands and waits forever,The boy who watches the girl fly past,And wishes she would get off at his stop.The boy stuck in circles,The boy who always needs help,The shy boy with the social prowess of a shattered rock.He waits and waits,And every time she flies past,He hopes and hopes.She talks to him often,But sometimes not so much,He feels like he’s walking straight when she speaks,Her words make sense to his boggled mind.The boy at the station,With eyes wide in anticipation,The selfish boy who wishes good things to happen,The boy who takes things for granted,Who thin
Left AloneYou want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone.You want me to buy you a cake and a knife? Sure I'll do that.So, what else do you need me to do? OK. That should be easy to do.Here I go, walking to and fro, to unknown destination just so I can please you.You hate my guts, huh? Well, to be honest, and I will not lie, I hate your guts too.You see me and I see you, walking past each other each and everyday - We do not smile.I often invision you surrounded by flames and you invision me drowning in the sea.And here is my question to you: Why do you hate me so much?You snarl as you echo my words: Why do YOU hate me so much?
Petit OiseauDon’t move a muscle I’m not even drawing in breath Through my heart Oh, such a tiny, naïve little thing! Will she let me approach, if I’m careful enough?Or will wings divide my intentions Widening gaps from the soil to the sky Soil in my hands, and Purple stars in her breath I could never hurt you, little pixie My winged ThumbelinaI don’t move a muscle I’m focusing on not drawing breath Lungs contract She gives me a heartwarming stare And oh, I am moments away!But stop! Coarse laughter sings Dark notes that may injure her But the dancer still hops, unaware Of the tears designing my chee
No wordsI don't like to talk.I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.
Their There, Her HereYesterday I kissed the sunAnd my lips turned cold as iceLike glaciers or rockets past PlutoBecause nature was never my friendAnd I'm still afraid of growing oldToday I'm hunting butterfliesAnd tearing leaves off treesBecause I'm scared of explosions and firefliesIn case they grab meAnd set me on fireTomorrow I'm becoming a cherry treeIf only just to be still for a moment or twoTo have my feet rooted in one placeAnd never have to move anything butMy blossoming arms
Awkward Phrases Moonlit PhasesBroken promises fall to the bottomOf my once-empty champagne glassAnd my skin is painted poppiesIn my mind.You taught me how to swimBut the waves pushed me downAnd filled my nose and mouth with youI closed my eyes and felt rocks in my handsAs the moon was eaten in front of meAnd I saw two futures for myselfIn the darkness above this foreign state
BiteSomewhere down this roadI forgot how to stop breaking your heartAnd November comes aroundJust three times a yearSo I'll make the most of my five secondsMy bones are candySnap off a piece, now savor the tasteIt's Halloween and it's a marrow free-for-allIf I'm cancerous,There will be a warning on the labelJust watch him bite offAll of meMy neckTo my ribsAnd my hipbonesTil there's bite-shaped dentsOn every sideAnd I'm rough around the edges
ElegyShe ran to the yardAnd threw back her headBut there were no starsAnd humans can't fly.