Author: poetryfest

(You’ll be gone1),
but all of my memories from your2 time
1 You’ll be gone.
2 adjective qualifying time. A time that would be mine but is instead permeated by you.

In limitless time
Wander endless days and nights
I am a drifter
–
In a dark era
All is lost and forgotten
Hope will be your light
–
King of no kingdom
A hero unknown to all
His eyes show the truth
–
The wind rises up
Trees dance and sway in the breeze
This land is alive
–
She waits by the lake
A promise I made to her
We will meet again
–
A chill in the air
Leaves change color as they die
Fall has come again
–
The flame burns brightly
Creation through destruction
Iron becomes steel
–
You cannot go back
Unable to move forward
Trapped by the present
–
Star falls from the sky
Amazing for the moment
Never seen again
–
Cherry blossoms fall
Float along the gentle stream
Away to new lands
–
Small seed in the ground
Wandering in the darkness
Climbs toward the light
–
Count the syllables
Trim away unneeded words
To write a haiku

It begins with an itch
just above the nape.
The seeds grow there.
White bud, tail, and bowels
twist in a full bed of hair.
The creature is microscopic,
mistaken as dust,
or the dandruff of hair,
unwashed.

Fingernails rake the bed
until the scalp aches,
scraped in spots to the skull.
Scabs pull away
with the brushing of hair,
until sore is the miserable halo,
you wear. Knowing,
you wrinkle your brow.
Sweep the mask
to the hair that drapes the brow—
the curtain of underhair—
to see the growth,
the seed planted.
He clings,
woven into the tresses like rope,
climbing leg-over-leg to nest
in the base of warmth, the neck.

If you had no choice
would you shave him down?
Instead, you buy like a force, some RID,
to wring him down wet with a tiny comb.

You strip sheets from beds,
hose the bathroom,
sterilize laundry, vacuum,
shake out the carpets,
throw pillows from house to lawn.
Your cursings baptize the louse.
He lies in the lather-white foam,
washed in the bathtub current,
basted in the acidy batter.

But is he ever gone?
For days to come,
won’t you imagine him
floating in the cream,
wriggling for his life
in your French-vanilla latte,
struggling in the pools?
And itching occurs
far after the latter,
for weeks,
even after the death
of the bastards.

bonfire flaming red
children’s eyes spark at Grandpa
telling love stories

my shadow and me
on the forget-me-not path
this graveyard silence

Torturous springtime—
in spite of my stinging tears,
the birds call anyway.

time
a concept, elusive
not solid in form
yet makes a sound
tick
tick
tick
tock
a mind, erosive
formed only by muscle tissue
and stardust
holds multitudes of synapses
colliding molecules that make consciousness
poisoned by obsession
calloused by traumas
haunted by shadows of the past
put them both together, time and a mind
and you have yourself a paradox
for the mind is the ultimate time travel
never forward, always back
but still capable of living in a time that no longer exists
strange really,
to exist…

The night grows ever darker,
The night sky filled with grey clouds,
Covering the moon in its entirety,
Leaving the world with little trace of light.

The world grows ever so silent,
The stillness in the air can be touched,
The world has gone quiet now,
The world was sleeping.

Yet here we are,
Embracing each other warmth,
Your body intertwines with mine,
Your hands wander around my body,
Going along its curves and shapes.

We kissed,
I pushed my lips onto yours,
And so do you,
I can taste the sweetness of them,
How firm and soft it is,
Making me fell even deeper,
In this love of yours.

We made love throughout the night,
Time seems to move slower,
As if the night was meant for us.

Our eyes locked to each other,
Time is meaningless now,
In this unfading world,
Only we exist,
Me and you,
In our vulnerable state.

We woke up in the morning,
Next to each other,
The sky was painted in orange hues,
The birds were chirping and singing,
In a beguiling euphony.

The world finally has woken up,
Hundreds of people swarming like flies,
Hurrying to their destination.

You hugged my arms tightly,
I can feel the warmth of yours,
You looked at me directly in the eyes,
Our eyes locked again,
Oh God,
Your coquettish smile,
Your teasing eyes,
Your come-hither looks,
Even the way you called me.

How can I not love you?
You are so perfect,
Perfect in my eyes,
The world does not need to know,
I do not like sharing.

Humans, social beings that we are,
Are in need of social meetings
To be able to be socially
In accordance all over the different societies.

All these social constructions
Make those with social deconstructions
Reconstruct their own social culture.

Sometimes societies fade,
Other times societies evolve,

But as a whole societies
Will always be a socio-economic coccus
Which sociologists view as a social magnet.

Hurt me! HURT ME. OKAY HURT ME.

Okay, hurt me. Tie me with your rope,
throw me in the river, watch me drown,
Come to save me after death. Giggle and smoke
your weed, put the fog into my lungs. Shove
mushrooms down my decaying throat. Watch me
turn into a tree and turn into one with me. Are you hearing me?
I said that you can hurt me. You can hurt me.
Take a knife, cut out my heart,
place something lovely inside my chest. Put me in a maze
and I will find a secret love letter. You love me, don’t you?
Oh, you love me! You love me! So go ahead! Crack me open,
chew me or swallow me or spit me out. Go ahead
and wreck my house. Throw mugs at my wall.
You can do the dishes, too, if you want. You can sit on the
sofa of my mind. Read a book. I will make some tea.
Go ahead and sit quietly, or be loud, make a mess,
I will be right back with scones and a cold brew coffee.
Oh, go on and hurt me.

Through the deluge and lightning above,
I ran from a life with no love.
Loud it cracked, that roar of thunder,
Through my head, my soul to plunder.
Awoken Again, a rumbling silence,
A room with no colour, a defiance of science.

The room was bright white,
Yet lit with no light.
No windows, no walls,
just vast open halls.
No ceiling, just ground.
No end to be found.

Three days or three hours,
My senses devoured,
The silence was ringing.
My eyes they were stinging.
From a great distance.
A sound of persistence.

Three times it did say,
Without wavering Astray.
“Holy, Holy, Holy.”
From above and below me.
The sound echoed around.
Yet no source could be found.

Three more times, it did ring.
The voice, so loud it did sing.
To the ground, the sound knocked me.
From my ears, my blood ran free.
In the endless white sky.
Came forth a light, a firefly.

The light was no dragon,
Giant wings like a falcon,
Three sets it possessed.
Although two sat at rest.
Veiling its feet and its face,
The beast approached with much grace.

Closer and closer, it came.
Its body glowed like a flame.
Countless eyes it adorned,
viewing my soul, I was scorned.
A voice like a trumpet, It spoke.
“Here, by your soul, I revoke.”

Endlessly downward, I fell,
Once more, the voice rang out like a bell,
“To the forest, I cast thee down.
In the form of a tree, thee shall drown.
self destruction thy sin.
Let your atonement begin.”

Within an oak is my cell,
Regret and anguish an endless well.
in my branches, the harpies rest.
With no mercy in their breast.
A twig a day is torn from me,
Damned to exist as a bleeding tree.

My prior actions I regret,
My former self, a vacant silhouette.
This punishment is endless
My crime considered stupendous.
My life a precursor,
To the wood of self murder.