to be alone          2FDAFC

Words Between the Wrinkles


Crinkled, crusted and tanned,
years have eroded over his parchment
leaving layers of regret.
His last words were barely legible;
scribbled painfully in penumbra blue,
expressing the ephemeral pleasures
he once embraced.
The quintessence of life,
his past was a Renaissance
craving creativity to survive.
His poetry played rhapsodies
and seduced nymphs to dance to his passions.
Immersed in words which can only whisper,
I feel his ethereal presence like a soft hush.
Ruminating beyond any imaginable realm,
I humbly yet desperately struggle
to comprehend the suicide of a tormented poet,
while still enraptured with the gifts he left behind.
Faded ink slowly evaporates out of a life
which became a paradox of words between the wrinkles....

j.k.

 
the bottom of an ocean

trillions of sun-glittered diamonds
saturating every contour of her footprints...
each tiny step leading her into
translucent aqua, cloudy cerulean, and the
bliss of blinding midnight...

banners of blue carpeting the depths
of the ocean, stairwell to the sea...

plagued pages inside her unlocked diary
stained in blank teardrops
left behind for no one to read...

"there are no words to describe
my unbearable pain"

Granite, Gravity and Ghosts

We were all mesmerized by him.
His magic and mania were one in the same.

His inflated perceptions,
oblivious to being ordinary.

His laughing seemed to
intensify over the years.

Eddie, the good-looking bully,
fleeing from life with a fast car.

Feeling the charge from a full-mooned midnight,
he sped through the twisted trails of his life;

trapped inside some lavishly landscaped apartment haven
stacked with boulders and beer bottles.

Darkness mourns its inevitable momentum.
Piles of unbalanced, rickety rocks

decorated his way,
hardened by years of cruelty.

Heavy, painful and apparition-like,
the ghosts of his past,

were hovering just above the roadside.
Did you remember me, Eddie?

I wasn't laughing.
Your chest crushed; in an instant.

Those tricky turns,
but you always knew your way around didn't you?

j.k.

Hidden behind every word
a human being crouches
afraid to speak.
Their life like a dangling participle
reaching out awkwardly; misinterpreted.
Imagine
all the words,
which so easily skip by
misguided eyes,
are the hiding places
for millions upon millions of lives
with stories untold.

the other person