Monthly Archives: July 2013

Catharsis

I see it being built, in the eyes in a mirror

reflecting the house inside made by bricks,

woods, and stones replaced by

the fires of guilt. Caught in the echo

of the phrase remained unsaid,

keeping me trapped inside the burning

house that was never a home.

 

Now the ashes are falling

and the the fire lines began to recede

as the rain starts to pour, washing away

the mess and turning it to a solid slate

of rock that I threw on the lake, disturbing

the calm waters, forming ripples that gradually

elevated itself from the shore, rising in itself a wave

of revenge upon the instigator.

 

Entangled

by wires of the thoughts like threads of silk

spindled and shaped that of a spider’s web

leaving me suspended on the ground of the

forsaken, forgotten and free. My skin

touches the angry waters like a breeze

of the wind. Weightless and unmoving

and I realized it is the water that I am breathing.

 

Let out the light of obscurity against my skin,

constantly covering me as a comfort, a cushion,

a solace of embracing silence. 

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An Ending with a Broken Rhyme

My home is the ocean. The waves and the collapsing

of the bubbles without certain figures. Of nothing

but ever-changing, amidst the stillness of the vast emptiness

underneath the surface of these waters. The darkness

echoing below, surviving in itself as a form of necessity

to build and rebuild, to invade and succumb to the sanity

of searing shackles of my mind. After each cloud that fills

the sky leaving me transparent to the passing boats, still

unnoticed, provoked and left undiscovered, unknown and feared.

Refined and understood to be a place of calm yet closed and stirred,

sacrificing the depths to unbroken promises

placed under the dark of hidden spaces.

People are right only in one thing in this life

that monsters lurk in the veil of the unseen, inside

were the secret keepers of the truth leaving a stain of pain

to anyone who dares to catch a glimpse in the flame

hidden under this deep trench,

and fail to reach every feeling,

forever weeping

and the seas are

made up

of my

tears.


High Walls and Open Spaces

This is for the forgotten and bloody, yet unbroken.

We keep our hands up straight, unstained

Under this skin, we find that conflict of nonexistence

Treading an imaginary path of notes sustained.

 We will never get tired of searching

of things we cannot have

When pain takes a whole different meaning

as something we can’t live without.

We feel alive with each time our hearts broke

and letting us die as our minds choke

in silence brought by the chills of open doors

curling the wisps of smoke with unfair scores.

Then everyone around that sees couldn’t believe

leading to be ridiculed for everyone to see

the pitiful image of a coward’s weep

as the tears fall beside the people’s spits.