Category: Uncategorized

Sakura petal falls,
Significant of the start,
Her memory is filled with flowers,
For the love blossoms in others,

The moment the flower dies,
She holds the withered flowers,
Hoping it blooms,
Just like her heart,

Those whispers,
Cause her eyes closed,
Singing to eternity,
To stop the pain,

There are many unhidden worlds,
Never able to be seen,
It’s left unbothered,
While she is crying for help,

But nobody heard,
Unlike to the ‘flowers’,
Remind her to stay,
To cherish the beauty of the sea,

Their scent is too far to reach,
Although of that,
Stills even though they knew her hands were bleeding,
She saw the love in her mind,

The smile and hope,
Faded time by time,
From that day they have been waiting,
For her heart to blossom,

Then the same night turned into raining star,
Just wait for a while,
To ignite the smile and hope,
So, she lives.

I’m not a stalker, trust.
Nor do I have a weird infatuation with you.
But I’ve been watching you for a year now.

I used to be the only girl getting on that 64 bus
passing by our stop at about 6:44 AM each morning.
Each weekday.

Then you appeared out of nowhere.
As the bus opened its doors, I got on. Then you.
I started keeping tabs on you since day 1.

You quickly became one of the regulars.
Always got on at the same stop.
Always walked over from the same direction.
Almost always had a pair of jeans on.

I’ve seen you for a year by now,
trying to put each bit of information I gleam off of you together
piece by piece. Like you’re a puzzle I wanted to solve.

I think I know where you reside,
as if I’m gonna show up at your doorstep someday.

I think you go to school in my district,
based on the stop you get off at.

I think you moved to my neighborhood recently,
once you started taking this bus
you took it for the rest of the school year.

In June, I saw you on the last day of school.
Surely, I wouldn’t see you over the summer.
The next time we’d meet
would be the next school year. I think.

The day I figured out the 64 bus that gets me to work on time
you were there. Wearing scrubs and an ID badge
around your neck. I became a scientist again,
collecting more data.

I think you wanna work in the medical field,

Your badge said “Beth Israel Hospital”

I think you took the 64 bus up to Central
before taking the 47 bus to work.

I still think you go to school in my district,
otherwise you couldn’t have worked there
over the summer.

The first day of the next school year,
I took a different route to school.
Familiarizing myself with this woman I had no data on.
I knew I’d go back to the 64 in the colder months.

Two weeks ago, I switched routes.
To the 64 bus at 6:44 AM.
As I waited for the bus to say hi,
you appeared from the same spot as always.
To take the same bus I take.

I’m not a stalker, trust.
Nor do I have a weird infatuation with you.
Nor am I a creep.

All I have is interest and a bottle
of curiosity, bubbling as if it’s about to explode.
I wanna get to know you.

You had a friend with you last year,
so I didn’t pay much attention.
But this year, its just you.
My curiosity fizzed, and I just wanna open up.

I feel like I’ve been staring at you too much,
you’ve probably caught on. Everyday as I wait for the bus
I turn away so you don’t see my face.
Keeping my classic poker face on,
but really behind it all I have all these thought bubbles.
I wanna get to know you.

I wanna know what your voice sounds like
how accurate my collected data is
when you moved here
where you’re from

your story
If you want to be friends
so that you no longer need to search
on Yubo.

To the stranger at the bus stop,
I wanna get to know you.
Do you wanna be friends?

I raised my kids
on sugar breakfast cereal
and Disney movies on repeat
juice was limitless
some days their only serving of fruit
they slept late
just so i could too
Some days were spent in pajamas all day long
Some days they picked out what to wear
Some days it was just a cape and underwear
naps were taken
when they were tired
rain days were fun
they splashed in puddles even
with no boots on
They ran barefoot
until it was dark
even, in dirt and mud
when they came home
I nursed their skinned knees
and mosquito bites
that went unnoticed
in the daylight
I tuck all in
Kiss each squeaky clean face
said good night
with a simple I loved you
Now, I sit quietly as i wonder how
my kids somehow turned out alright
despite the fact i let them be kids

From the mountains to the valleys
We know which way our destiny runs
Follow your stars
Go on go on go on

We’re a courageous crew as ever has been
Traveling with the bravest of men
Leading us on without a fear
Galloping on with our noses in the air

We ride far thru the forest
For freedom we fight
Doing the Lord’s bidding
We are guardians of right

For glory and honor for this we live
Our lives for our kingdom is what we give
Come along, come along
Heed the call

With death knocking at our door
He hardly says a thing at all
Armed with everything he could need
A sword, a shield, and a dream

“Lay it down” he says
Yet, here we are creeping
Closer to danger and trouble
And the man begins weeping

Don’t tell, don’t tell please
As brave Sir Robin falls to his knees
I am scared, I am scared
I want to leave
When danger reared its ugly head
Brave Sir Robin turned and fled
The minstrel sang out, “You ran away!”
“No, I didn’t” was all he could say

After Dave Smith’s “The Old Whore Speaks to the Young Poet”

This is the way we do it, see,
packaging poetry.
First you hang out at a university
and consume all the right texts,
like APR and AWP,
and snub your nose at the rest,
and soon you’ll be the academy.

The fact is, I’m ignoring your question
which is your first lesson.
Never give a damn for your audience;
I’m a famous poet,
when I read for a bunch of peons,
I get paid for it.
In fact, I’ve made it a science.

Which is more than I can say of her
who also somehow sits up here
Collecting her poetry check like a man
to my immediate left.
But then everyone’s to my left, I’m sure,
except perhaps Ezra Pound,
whom I try to mention whenever I can.

I’m a born and bred Virginian,
a Southern gentleman.
I never could be crass or rude,
or take a lady’s name in vain,
or eat cold cornbread out of the pan,
or say a simple-minded thang
unless, of course, I’m in the mood.

Finally, make friends, flatter your colleagues,
both the peevish and the prigs.
Someday you’ll want to anthologize them,
create a new canon,
which means putting aces up each other’s sleeves
against mere fashion,
an inside straight to the great tradition

Bathed in darkness, ever wetted
Sunlight peeks through single slit

Seldom shine the polished pillars
Wallowing in silver spit

Huddled like a witch’s coven
‘Round the altar of the worm

Flattened beast of nimble muscle
Darts and writhes and curls and turns

Bound by pulsing veins and sinew
Chained unto its fleshy throne

Strains to breach that pliant border
Spurred by forces yet unknown

My DNA inches up my throat, settles into my teeth, and coats my tongue like rancid honey.
I’m too deep into her fantasy.

I was just a kid, jailed behind shins, hiding from the brightly-lit mirror.
What made me seen now erases.

Call it self agency or decay, it’s easier to play danger, test the weight of her flame,
whose fumes might as well be bone, stoic and honest.

I translate my mother’s fear on my face
like lead shadows left on an effaced page of broken hypotheses.

I have reinvented her as a scientist.
She still holds me to the light like an ossified insect.

To be read while listening to Delta’s hold music

Welcome to Delta. Your call is important to us…
well kinda.
Honestly, this could take a while.
You see, all of our agents are currently unavailable
because today is the annual picnic
at our Malaysian call center.
They are just putting the finishing touches on their model sailboats
for the big race this afternoon.

Welcome to Delta.
Did you know you can go book yourself?
Just go to Delta.com and select the option to go book yourself
and you can get off this phone an on with your life.

Welcome to Delta.
To reach a customer service agent
simply draw a triangle of crushed brimstone
stand inside it and spill the blood of 3 virgin pigeons
a gateway will open beneath you
and an agent will be with you shortly.

Welcome to Delta.
We are currently unable to receive your call
because our Malaysian call center just received information
of a shipment of illegal orangutans
being smuggled offshore.
Our agents are currently cutting escape holes
in the shipping container with blowtorches
and will be with you as soon as the mission is accomplished.

Welcome to Delta.
Have you heard of Delta’s new Delta Green® Climate Smart travel initiative?
Simply cancel your flight to offset its carbon emissions
and Delta will send you a VR headset
pre-loaded with the experience you were going to have.
Why fly all the way to Nebraska for your family reunion
just to hear your uncle get drunk and start saying homophobic shit
when you can live the experience from the comfort of your own home?
Flying to Costa Rica for your honeymoon
only to catch COVID on the flight and get stuck in a hotel airport for 2 weeks?
Delta can help you save the hassle…
and the planet.

Welcome to Delta.
Did you know you can also book yourself in our app?
Go to http://www.delta.com/bookmeintheapp
to find out what customer satisfaction
means to Delta.

Welcome to Delta
All of our agents are currently unavailable right now
because after their brush with adventure on the high seas
they realized how lucrative orangutan smuggling can be
and have decided not to return to our call center.
We believe they have commandeered the smuggling vessel
and are somewhere heading north in the South China Sea.
If you have any information as to the whereabouts of our agents
please call us immediately at
1-800-GO-BOOK-YOURSELF

And can you feel his love
on your bruised body
do you like the air he breathes/ into your chest
of cigarettes and profanities
the taste of alcohol
As he takes off your panties
his anger pumping through you
who made you, his love, fool

wanting this way

i can’t believe every door i open leads back to this attic. a rusty door, a squeaky door, a set of French doors, the Monsters Inc. door, a door you have to throw your shoulder against to shove it open, a door that feels like it will splinter right off its hinges if you twist the knob just so. all lead back to the place where you twisted me at unnatural angles and strung me up amidst the cotton candy insulation fiber. you are spooling out the threads of my skeleton slowly, so slowly that it doesn’t ache in the moment — but over time i notice my body beginning to fold in on itself as it unravels. if you made me into a blood eagle it would be more romantic, i think.

i’ve always hated menthol cigarettes, but now i exclusively buy them because they taste like the inner right corner of your mouth. like growing stale, not old, together. i pray with every inhale that they will be the thing to make my brain bleed and burst rather than your soft, battered body curled up inside my skull and raging to get out. please put the machete down. i promise i want you gone just as much as you want to remember the taste of fresh blood and fresher air, but my brain is the one fucking place that doesn’t have a door for some reason. i went to the doctor in hopes that they’d assault me with a stethoscope and tell me my problem was arrhythmic fibrillation and early onset schizophrenia instead of stale insulation fiber for a heart and a voluntary thought pattern that would
make Schrödinger’s stomach turn. but i sat alone in the operating room for six years because the office door only ever opened to that damn attic. put the fucking machete down.