After Her…

The slow motions
the instant repeats
the lifeless potraits
the ending points

kills the most, since
you become aware

the stillness in the eyes
that’s when you know

her sun has set
the day is over
and it is now a drawing
of her faded interest.

But like a never-ending flipbook
you wistfully rummage through
the flickering stages, only to create
your own images, after her

an eyesight that is ruthless
with its rapid velocity
as it blinks with a new truth
faster than a hummingbird’s wings

showing off how she forgets you
and you’re left with the drawings
where someone new has her touch.

Sea of Silence

Wreckless is to give all of yourself to another.
You’d become harshly aware of the unforgiving cold
once they’re gone, and suddenly you’ve been freed to a sea of silence
at the top of a mountain where there’s nothing left but ice
the unfathomable void, where loneliness has encased itself
to no one to contend to.  The sunlight blinds you with tears of longing
bare tears, full of memories, tending towards trepidation.

Be Rid of You

You can keep your sentiments
and all your love attachments.

You can keep your loneliness too
because I have my own.

You can keep everything that draws your face
or expects you coming through the door

I’m going to free myself of you, all of you
I will free myself of you and all your things

that lingers alone and anticipates
when I don’t need them anymore

I will free myself, free myself
free myself from you!


So quickly the erasure has begun
as pieces of me are being removed.
From that heart, I’ve been gutted out
from that mind, my reflection turned into shards.

I was suppose to know it was happening
that the coils my hair makes no longer brought joy
and understand that a betrayal was for me to take notice.

But it doesn’t matter now, as all the tenderness
as all the dreams, like abandoned leaves, dwindle away 
trapped in a dusty old box filled with memories, well forgotten
displaced by some new desire to excite the tête-à-tête.

So quickly the erasure has begun, in one day
what once was comforting as a simple embrace, a brush of the hands
is being replaced with talk of sleeping arrangements.

A Jesus Birthday

At the closing of tonight
I’ll sit painstakingly reminiscing.
Reminisce over saying goodbye
then dance alone again.

My home with those many walls
keeping me still, smelling the strong aroma
my favorite dish, beef stew marinating
as the lady laboring over the stovetop cares for
making it all the better, this has been removed for
just a room filled with bitter cold things.

Reminiscing over the place that once was
still measuring the range of her laughter, and the saddness
that is like milestones, as they carted me away to the institution.
Reminisce over the fear and devastation, I found staring back at me
in those brown pools of continuous wonderings, should I even be taking this on?

Reminisce over the appearance of truth
and the presence, oh but a stagnation,  a straggling grip of desperation
where there aren’t any days drenched with tortured love songs.
But I was getting better at seeing the light.  Too late… 

Shouldn’t I’ve known this storm was coming?
Since, they say 33 is the year of the crisis, where the unexpected occurs
except no one told me, as I walked into the eye of a  hurricane.

Possessing the Secret of Joy

Is in those moments when you’re most blinded, you’ll find it possessed, bazodeed, when you’re least aware of what you have. That moment of joy, seeing her standing there waiting, pieces of her blowing in the wind. She smokes another cigarette, checking her cell phone because she’s lonely without you. And when she catches a glimpse of you, all you see is her dimples. And your smile is broad enough that you silently cry a secret joy, because even though you can’t really see, your eyes find each other. You embrace.

Is there such a thing?
Are there moments so sure
that you’re so unaware of?

Find it possessed, bazodeed
with your cataract eyes
incapable of recognizing joy

as she waits there for you
dimpled and broad smiled
lonely for your sauntering suspension?

We embrace, because it’s been that long
since we’ve caught a sighting that spectacular
shooting ephemeral phenomenologies
burning a thousand years away.

Looks inside a Skeleton

Save Yourself                                                             Life Jacket

How can I feel thank-ful-ness                    self preservation, something I should have
while I’ve arrived at survival and you didn’t?  learned, been aware of by the time I was teething

How can I move pass the memory                  especially while I’ve absorbed the ugliness
when we both were gasping for air?                  breathing out its dead, its shivering debris.

They never say to give up your oxygen mask                 As a child, you’re never allowed a say
in fact they strongly advise you against it.           unless you have a good law guardian:

Before attempting anything                                I must understand directions
you must first be breathing.                                and consider how cruel self preservation
                                                                        can be.

But then, once I’ve put my oxygen mask on                   It is like while one is drowning and
and you’re left stranded for air, I watch you try to speak without a thought, you reach for

I watch you escape into the open, into oblivion              slapping  for anything afloat, and      
I fight and scream for you to stay with me.                       then grab on,
                                                                                               push, push, push down for air,

                                                                                            for life.


Ode to the Infinite Burn

To forget, oh to forget, have to, have to
have never touched your open hearth
where luminosity soaks and then soars.

Watch the fire, watch, watch the fire ignite
watch it ablaze and crack, cheat, cheat
cheating my umbra with orange cinders
blue sparks full of auspicious heights

then dies, dies, dies, it does
in languorous pace, unmindful 
of the fingertips it singed, hurts me so

to forget, oh to forget.

Attachment is Such a Hard Thing to Undo.

No more inquisitive brown eyes
to stare into and lose myself.

No more little ears to measure.
No more love songs to sing, because no one is listening.

No more dimpled smiles.
No more of her laughter, grabbing my attention.

No more flippers for feet
with flipper covers reaching to her knees.

No more secret language to make up
and joke about amongst ourselves.

No more soft kisses to have in the morning
waking me up from my slumber.

No more gentle caress of the middle of my back.
No more love to make during the late hours.

No more dreams to have of little ones playing in our backyard.
No more dreams to have of us growing together.

No more recipies to try.
No more spoons to lick.

No more you to teach me things.
No more coozied drunken debates.

No more you to admire naked in the sunlight.
No more you to watch sleep in the moonlight.

No more you to come home to.
No more home to come to.

No more time.
No more love.


The catalyst came on his big white horse
and told my lover that I was a fool
a fool for letting you go alone for so long
a fool for letting you dine with such prospects
and then believe of none adventure
the mocking birds sing a loud moan
upon discovery the cuckold will remember
all the things a fool should already know