Archive for January, 2006

ebbs and flows

31 January 2006

The gentle waves
caress my winding shore
Ardent entreaties
on every breath.
Unyielding I lie
yet with every ebb
they take a part of me.


for yesterday, today, and tomorrow

31 January 2006

For yesterday, today, and –


I write this love song.

Who knows when the rain

will bring us together again?

Maybe I will let sail

a thousand blossoms for you

and they will fly so that

you might find them

and remember me.

stumble along

31 January 2006

I can’t understand how the world works.
I stopped trying a long time ago.
Who, after all, is to say it’s wrong
to let my heart stumble along
and let itself learn
from the cuts and scrapes
and bruises
which, in the end, is probably
far better than having the world,
in the palm of your hand.


31 January 2006

A lone whisper
flies through the night
seeking shelter
in an open heart
yet the rain seems to be
keeping everyone inside
and sadly, whispers
cannot pass through doors.


31 January 2006

I shall lay me down to sleep
and seek you with my dreams,
fly on the currents of wind
among the clouds or
ride the tail of a falling star
and wish,
wish that as you slumber
my whispers will find your ears
and our dreams will find each other.


31 January 2006

Maybe it is cold
but I don’t feel a thing
the numbness just won’t go
away, like the shivering
has done, and my heart
quakes, and stumbles with
every beat as the icy blood
almost freezes in my veins.


31 January 2006

It is madness
The dementia brought on
by the deafening sounds
of bombs dropped on
countless innocent lives
and you feel the blood
pounding in your ears
and splattering on your face,
feel it soil your hands
so you cry out for your mother
but all that remains
is the gutted shell of a memory
seen through a distant haze
or it maybe it is just the tears
you are shedding.

is this goodbye?

27 January 2006

It is never easy to say goodbye
Especially when the end is not really an end.
Like when someone walking beside you
Disappears in the infinity of a split second.
Or when the end looks not at all like an end
But a beginning masquerading as one.

It is never easy to say goodbye
When the end is long in coming
And at the same time abrupt,
Taking you along for a ride and leaving
While you pause to catch your breath.

These ends – they come masked in deception
And when you are most sure they’re not yet come,
They spring their trap, and then
You find it hard to say goodye

And harder even to move on.

like a stone

27 January 2006

to make up for yesterday’s silence:

I cannot feel
the earth’s grief anymore.
The shadows in my life
are far blacker
than the angry storm clouds.
The tears I shed
in the refuge of my solitude
have long gone cold,
colder even than
the rivulets of rainwater
which sluice through my skin.
Even the cries of the countless
years of suffering
that echo through time
in the howling wind
fail to move me.
Thus, I will make as a rock
and weather a thousand rains
until hopefully, the rain
will weather me,
and I shall feel again.

when it rains

25 January 2006

The rain swoops down,
Descending in all whiteness and wetness,
Embracing the land in a steamy mist.
Incessantly pounding,
It seeks every little crack and crevice
To fill with its vibrant life.
Now slowing, and now hurrying,
But always, always, always falling
Until earth in ecstasy gives up the ghost.

Points to Ponder: Is the poem about sex?

title postponed

24 January 2006

The stones are silent.
They glisten with crimson sweat,
muted testimony to what
they could not see.
The stones feel the weight.
Maybe they shook with the dull thud
that came with its fall.
Yet still, they are silent,
not yielding the secret
which was not entrusted to them.

Title: Murder on the Cobbled Pavement


dust in the wind

23 January 2006

It’s still seven in the morning, and cold.
The sunlight filters in through the windows,
basking the room in a honey glow.
In this beam, or that,
Dust motes gambol in midair
Riding the tide of their life
As unconsciously as we do ours.
Then the wind shifts, or dies
Taking with it a hundred thousand lives.
All that will be left of that grand ballet
Is a couple of thousand dust motes
Lying on the tabletop.


22 January 2006

no it’s not a poem
unless you write it with your blood
and stain it with your tears
it’s not a poem
unless you hear your heart beating
and feel your soul flowing
in the rhythm of your words.


22 January 2006

You walk the border
of night and death.
Wavering, always wavering.
Your mind wandering
and maybe staring
or maybe falling
into a dark cesspool
of your own pain.
Anguish, grief, and despair
stare back.
Yet there is no one
to save you.


21 January 2006

I walked the streets of night
And I realized
What is the pain of a thousand bleeding hearts?
But another constellation winking out.
What are the tears of a thousand hurting souls?
But a drop in the vast ocean.
When we learn to let our hearts
Beat as one,
Anguish, and despair
Will be just as a gust of wind
On a dark lonely night.

20 January 2006

heaven’s heavy tears
are cold.


20 January 2006

I’m tired of waiting
The dark does not lend itself to patience.
I’m sick of waiting
Ice does not lend itself to patience.
I’m through with waiting.

If you want, you’ll have to catch up with me.


20 January 2006

Perhaps that is all it is –
a sigh, suspended in time.
And yet, something resonates
A murmur, a rush of voices:
From the past? Could be
From the present? May be
From the future? Might be.
Reminding me.

there she goes again

19 January 2006

see luna waltzing round your eyes
not heeding gaea’s feeble cries
not heeding sol’s insistent might
unmindful of her siblings’ plight

see luna waltzing round your eyes
oblivious to how chronos flies
oblivious to

*this is just a draft.. someone help me finish it! thanks!*

the best blonde joke ever

19 January 2006

I don’t think this is literature in the literature sense but heck, it’s kewl. Check out the Best Blonde Joke Ever. Enjoy.