Author: poetryfest

A branched tree, shattered leaves,
leaves that don’t determine anything.
Seasons that made the branched tree feel something is ultimately preparing
the branched tree to be unfazed.
The ultimate doomsday, my ultimate demise.
A branched tree is my entity,
my serenity and my unfazed hatred toward the supremacy.

Crumble

Crumble, Crumbling is all I can hear.
Despite everything all I feel is hopeful.
Hope is the only thing that protected me from disdaining myself.
Endless darkholes yet all I can see is him.
The light of my demise.
A light who told me, “It’s fine, I am here for you.”
Hope of my wavering world, a hope who is keeping my very existence
ALIVE.

Lizard

A lizard looked at me as I lay on the bed
hyperventilating….
It calmed me whereas my birth giver made my condition worse.
I was always in the fault, but a lizard calmed me.
It checked up on me, when no one dared to break the shell which I
desperately want.
A lizard calmed me down
as I stared down on his photo.

Scapegoat

I let myself to be the villain of something which I didn’t corrupt yet if I didn’t
let myself get framed for it,,
chaos, disruption would befall on the person, to whose life I deliberately
destroyed…….
I became the scapegoat for the vengeance’s bride.
I cold-heartedly swallowed those pills for hours despite knowing it would
cause nothing except for minor inconvenience to my body, but a permanent
scar to my soul.

Nothing

Nothing is my nemesis.
Nothing is what created me…
Nothing is what defines my existence.
A void of an inescapable destiny-intertwined in my fate.
A realm of nothingness.

The cut was made by one who loved
One who loved deeply and truly the
One that they cut, they took it upon
Themselves to suture the wound with
The best of intentions, never meaning
Harm

But the one who loved was never
Very good for the one they loved
Tearing at the wound with every
Suture, ripping once pristine skin
Into shredded bits of lost love and
Regret

The one they loved had once loved
Them too, but by now it was so tired
Of all the pain that they caused and
No longer had the energy to love them
Back, no longer had the ability to truly
Care

It had never loved them the same
Way but it had once loved them,
Long ago before it had been utterly
Maimed nearly beyond recognition
But the lines between had long since
Blurred

It was so tired of letting them tear
Selfishly at its skin, they didn’t mean
To be selfish and it knew that but
When they tore open its chest to eat
Its heart, it couldn’t find any reason
Why

They wanted it to love them with
All of its heart and so they had to
Pull it to pieces to keep it for their
Own personal use, no matter how
They knew how terrible the behavior
Is

And they did know, they knew
Almost as well as it did, but it
Felt the pain from it all more
Than they did, the guilt of them
Would never transcend the pain of
It

They couldn’t help the way they
Were and nor could it help its
Forgiving nature, its desire to
Help them be better, but they
Would always be selfish
So

Turning away from one another
Was the only option but it was
Slow, they never managed to
Forget one another, and despite
All the pain, leaving them was
Hard.

He wasn’t adopted but made,
Not in a womb but psyche.
My son was a misborn,
I never met his father.

I was still married to my past,
Yet I nurtured my son.
Who feeds on my thoughts,
Sparing nothing at all.

While I drained every day.
He bloomed to a manchineel,
He bore the fruits of my toil,
And the apples made me blind.

I sought peace in my past,
That I wished never existed.
I untangled the cobwebs,
To fine, shiny, silk threads.

And I spun new thoughts,
That kept alive my past.
My son fed on the thoughts,
Blinding me day by day.

I was reduced to two eyes,
Bright, that could not see.
The beauty and vibrance,
Just a breath away.

I was reduced to an ego.
To keep my son alive.
I weaved new shiny palls.
At the cost of my idyll,

My son was an evil,
Who killed his mother.
Guilt is my lucky bastard,
Though I never dated Sin.

The tides ripple
as if pulling at earth’s shirt fabric.
A dark spirit throws a rock
into the waters, sending kinetic energy
through the planet’s back.
The waters slosh around
when the ocean spirit punches its pillow,
our world as impermanent as a cold drink
tossing around in its stomach.

Masthead lights on boats
only see briefly in front of them,
catching sight of mere seconds,
the future pitch black in the night sea.
Characters drive their vessels
along the waves, their lives cliffhangers
when the dark spirit eventually
swallows them up.
One man jumps into the waters,
the wind whispering off the spirit’s tongue,
and the cold a reality hitting its head
after a car crash.
To swim is to embrace the spirit,
wrapping oneself in its potential energy—
the energy of the moment before
releasing an arrow from a bow,
or the build up before a worker’s strike.
The dark spirit hungers for mistakes,
and this one fed it so easily.
The man struggles in the ocean,
getting torn in all directions
by the powerful black pit
that boats can hardly see into.
The spirit is already full, using its greedy
and gluttonous desires to feed,
to leak blood into those still alive,
those who are not the man who jumped,
those who escaped the monster
that is everything to come,
everything beyond the glowing boat eyes
on the monster’s back.

You’ll leave the earth one day.

It won’t be all smiles,
neon nights,
and cocktails in the sun.

You will dip low,
screw up,
incur emotional bruises,
and if you’re lucky,
you’ll get your heartbroken.

Don’t lose your cool.

It won’t seem like it…but there’s plenty
of reasons to maintain your optimism,
look to the future,
and there will always be an open barstool.

Don’t lose your edge.

Rock bottom can always go up,
long walks improve your stamina,
and feeling strange is better than feeling nothing at all.

Don’t give up.

You’ll leave the earth one day.
Don’t let the living part get away.

reaching

tulips open wide
and gaze at the white ceiling,
reaching nirvana.

mermaids

mermaids close their eyes
and see lovely pale colors,
singing a sad song.

singing

mermaids close their eyes
and sing a slow melody,
basking in moonlight.

flowing

the creek flows fiercely
and cries like the sound of sleet,
haunting the landscape.

messenger

an angel arrives
and advises the tiger,
leading to freedom.

whisper

an osprey appears
and whispers gently to fish,
diving for cover.

feathers

a horned owl screeches
and foxes run for refuge,
leaving one feather.

deer

the deer crosses the road
and antlers make him regal,
yearning for safety.

the alluring shadows thread upon the ceiling
sensuous shape welcoming / temptation reeling

aura – transcended / heart rapidly pounding
dialect of desire / vibrates the surroundings

blue vein pulses, clenching his brain
supernatural vision / are you going insane?

primordial deity / seduction angel of doom
vortex apparition, twice circles the room

passion wings quiver – whispering; “What is your name?”
allurement deployed to outsmart / seduction clamps the heart

bedchamber adversary / destroyer of good
power thrives in the darkness, manipulator of manhood
…
antagonistic force, created to collide
rhelm battle impending hold tight
steel heart protection / dark wing -force fight

fact or fiction / dreaming or dead?
room rotating rapidly, paralyzed in the ivory bed

visions – hallucinations, mind matter restraints
darkness into morning / day into night

Will the body surrender and the revelry end?

suddenly! – deep sorrow infiltrates blinding
a jewel of evil’s blow
east – south – north – west
nine month alters life’s flow

Circling entity pivots
Black wing captured defeated
Prophecy eyewitness, a seventh seal rapture
silently lying in the ivory bed

Somewhere in the Arctic
a polar bear cub is left alone
on a quickly disappearing iceberg
the Narrator says:
“The cub, abandoned, will probably not survive.”

you hear a voice that is beautiful, it says
“every day is another chance”
a wasp flies into a fig, only to
lay her eggs and die
She pollinates the fruit and it ripens into
sweet nectar
the cycle continues

the voice tells you about tropical birds that mate for life,
raising only one offspring with no guarantee of survival
it tells you of giant squids that eat their own kind,
of plants that lure frogs to their death with sweet scents

you remember catching fireflies with your brother
cupping small hands around even smaller embers
poking holes in lids so they could breathe
a living nightlight for only one night
before you released them back to the unknown twilight

you haven’t seen many fireflies lately

you wonder if you are the abandoned cub or, perhaps,
if you were supposed to be
you wonder if nature makes choices or simply
lets fireflies fly

Mother, Murder, Murder.
Bene Gesserit.
She is the mind-killer,
The little death that brings total obliteration.

In her, a living mine,
Words like spells and chants unrepelled,
Echoes in her belly,
A seed from the heavy blue.

Bodies, on sand seas,
Murder, on Shai-Hulud’s Street.
Her long cloak, like streams of dusty winds,
And her vision, like oceans of colic signals.

The FedEx box arrives,
Sitting at my sister’s kitchen table–
Heavy for its size,
You, but not you.

Not your smooth back
I rubbed at night,
An island bird
Perched on your shoulder

Downstairs, your dirty dishes
Waiting—caked with macaroni.
A mess I don’t miss,
A mess I wish I had now.