Offensive, foul, the first and final word,
Tyrannical, extreme in every tense,
Betrayer of incompetence, when heard
It ridicules rejection, drowns defence.
A shiv to slice the centre of the soul,
A dagger to the worst, the hardest heart,
Defiantly imposing cold control,
It strikes before insurgency can start.
Malevolent, a murderer of dreams.
A syllable to shatter, never mend.
As absolutely certain as it seems.
Definitive denial to the end.
More meaning is impossible to throw.
To hear it is to feel its fury: no.
I think about the turning spring and how it must be lush outside your windowsill, how frosty gray gives way to greener boughs and drizzles wash away the winter chill... I don't know if you find yourself outside enough to leave your lingering thoughts behind, but step outside for me, since I abide away, outside a garden state of mind. and in return, when I go out to hike these hills I grew up with, whom I call friends, I'll tell them of this girl I know they'd like and read them all the clever words you've penned. the nature that you have, I have here too, so beauty shall be our shared point of view.
Opus 32, no. 1 The Way of Shame As I'll myself disgrace, knowing your will, Since all who follow you must bear their cross, I only ask that you would be my fill Of love amidst dehumanizing loss. Let your belovedness pervade my soul That I may be reminded I am man And not a worm, a head and not a sole, A filled-up vessel, not a crumpled can. For living poor in spirit is a choice, And not a miserable coincidence— The ceding of my privilege I rejoice To live beyond the lines of my defense. I lose my face, yet find in my rejection An ever-clearer sense of my reflection.
Tomorrow you must travel to the coast That both of us once dwelt in simpler days. What's the occasion? Not a time to toast But sadly, unexpected parting ways. I wish that I could hold your hands in mine, Enclose them in the shelter of my hold, And let my stable heartbeat be a sign That warmth can still be found in times so cold. But every meeting that we've shared's felt stolen, Our moments tangible have been so few: There's little that we truly have control in And still so much we have to see and do. My dear, say hi to all the cherry trees: Their blooming hearts, like mine, shall bid you peace.
Thank you, psycho, for my hideous scars My enemy you have traumatized me You made me feel like my loves are afar Out of all of us, why did it be me? Honey, you have given me great trust issues For me, it’s impossible to make friends I’m truly grateful I will not miss you Be thankful we will never meet again So I want to know what made you psycho Was it your sexual fucked up nightmares? Is that why your sanity chose to go? Cannot blame it, it seems perfectly fair My enemy, I am glad you are gone So now I will say to you, so very long
It only took a single storm to squall
And strip the sakura from fragile stems.
With spring’s first rainfall came the curtain call,
And week-young petals graced the ground like gems.
I thought upon their blossomed brevity,
A fate the flowers of my youth have shared:
Those cursed to bloom with no longevity,
Which bared their beauty at me till I cared.
Yet I grieve not as those who have no hope,
Like those who doubt that spring again shall rise.
New seasons birth new beauty, and I cope,
For flowerings anew are no surprise.
I know the odds are great that they will die,
But all the joy they bring I can’t deny!
Op. 29, no. 6
Planting
For how do I hold you but by your granting?
What else is there for me to do but ask?
This seed I hold now merely waits its planting—
And yet I tremble thinking of this task!
I fear not failure: If you turned me down,
The sadness would not leave me broken long;
Through all my prayers for your behalf sown,
My longing for your best will stand most strong.
In truth, uncertainty invites my dread,
That change irrevocable must occur.
Our friendship will not carry on ahead
As it has been, no matter what you answer.
Is everything or nothing how this love must go
Or will there still remain old roots to grow?
Op. 29, no. 5
Celestial Odyssey
Bound for the prize of all too precious you,
I found myself at the aphelion
Where stars I'd never seen came into view
Along the edge of the Empyrean.
I skirted by so closely as I spun
In orbit, I could feel their gravity
That tugged at me and dared me to outrun
What hounded me: my vice and vanity.
My satellites thus stripped, I have returned
With clearer sight, a voyager come home
Abrim with stories, legends, lessons learned—
With no desire anymore to roam.
Your love, which in my travels was my sun,
Has brought me back to earth—my journey's done.
I have not seen you for so long; I fear
I might have substituted what my mind
Has molded you into. I disappear
For far too long, and life turns colorblind:
My night vision obscured by scales of gray.
We know it is impossible to teach
The blind what colors are, but what to say
To him whose memory was doused in bleach?
In such a mind, the darkness is still dark,
But not as scarlet blood or ocean blue,
And rose tints and blue skies now shine too stark
When stripped of substance, hewn of every hue.
My dear, how I have missed you! Shine your light
On me and turn my hopes to vivid sight!
3/30
(a Sonnet)
While hoping for his call on phone I write,
There’s sound of rain & warmth from vented heat.
I’m coil’d up on the bed bathed in soft light,
And leaves that scatter chatter down the street.
The flicker of a bulb, the wind in flight,
My mind is playing tricks like rising damp.
The walls where shadows watch in dead of night
Keep distant never coming near my lamp.
The Muse is still’d while other thoughts are there,
The gusts of rain are keeping him from speech.
I pause to rest my eyes and tousle hair,
Before he comes I’m sleeping out of reach.
And then to crawl in bed between my hips,
My words for