Category Archives: Third Year 2014

Shadow of an idea that stayed too long,

Shadow of an idea that stayed too long,
that was unwelcomed, unnannounced.
You’re just the shadow of a hope
that dreamt against my will,
that bumped into my mind
stolen every sullen corner.

Sweet. Beguiled.
If you’re a sweet then I’m your queen.
But as I’m not, and as you were,
This day too long, my passion
unsure.

These words are slow.
The best about slow songs is dancing so close,
But this isn’t a song,
It’s not even the start.

It’s a reclaim on a stolen space.
And this someone, new hope,
I hope he fills it well.
I hope he stays.
You’re someone I didn’t’ know.
A condemned man only by your chosen fate.

Whose shadows remain despite the noon-high sun
which fills the world with spring-white-taste.
With haste I’d wish you’d leave.
Whose shadows shouldn’t exist.

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The Tale of the Girl with No Name

‘I am the girl with no name,’ she cried out with a cheer.
Parades stood transfixed, ears willing to hear.
‘I am the girl with no name at all,’
She decreed with a bow and accompanying song.

All her life she
thought she knew what she was called.
A name like a flower which grew since before her,
twisted and twined around the body so small.
Talled as she talled, grew wide when her hips did too.

The name she thought,
still grew and breathed, always above her,
always sighted out-of-reach.
Watered and loved, no blemish to name,
soon preceded the distance which the girl
flew.

But then she met a boy with a beautiful name,
that tasted so pure, that tasted so good as her
lips grew the word stronger and lovelier each day –

And for a year more, he never used the girl’s name.
It all was a lie, the word she thought she knew.
There had never been a name, she was just only a ‘you’.

She accepted the bend of her flawed know-all,
perhaps, after all, she remembered,
it were weeds that grew too.

She accepted his knowledge as superior to her
own – for he told her things only a lovely named-boy
could know.

‘I am the girl with no name.’
They cheered and they twirled.
‘I had no name at all,
not one, three, or two.’

A Song of Sorrow

A song of sorrow,
simple, that you’re not with me.
And yet, perhaps, the fault is mine because
your name always comes first in line.

This isn’t what I wanted, I didn’t know how,
how to allow myself to ask for what I dreamt
so close.

When I saved all my bad words to serve
as a first to yours,
they dissolved as sugar in water in a swift
kiss.

But was it you or I that stirred it first?

Not My Everything, But My Everything Else

The need to write stronger than knowing
what to say. Don’t know the words to use,
but I know the actions attached and
hope to know what they’d make you do.

Oh many times I have called it
quits without your knowledge. Introduced
other men, introduced other feelings, but
back to your fading face I will
always go.

You aren’t my Everything, but
you’re my everything else.
A perfect piece to a broken part.
Stitched my heart with false starts
and some memories of undeserved
love.
Cross my heart, I hope to die
If ever I did hurt you with my fear and lies.

We’re just both working for Maslow’s
highest and anywhere I’d go
with you to tag along and find it.
You aren’t my all, but you’re my damn-near-close.

You aren’t my Everything, but
your my everything else. A
perfect piece to my broken parts.

I’ll make it worth your while if
you promise your heart.
I’ll give you all which required
save the basic rights of self.
With My life, I’d be your help

My Nora to your Jay
and I’ll stick by your side
with all my hope-to-dies.

You aren’t my Everything,but
you’re my everything else.
A perfect part to my damn-near broken part.

A Taunting Mind

A mind that taunts one
thousand thoughts in the thick layers of the night.

What is it that brings this mis-timed
mind into the daylight hours
when the moon still catches-light?

Visions of binging fingers
continuously grazing the
palette of yours.

Imposter, frauded and fooling
those of who I am not.

What can this rest bring that
I cannot reach during the day?
Why must I sleep when it does nothing
but pass the day into days,
counting and reshuffling, forcing
me to move on?

Layer-thin walls.
I hear in them my fighting thoughts.

Oh how I miss your face.
Oh how I miss your voice.
Oh how I love you so.

And how alone and cold the weeknights and ends are.