Independence

the last piece of st. louis

Folder: 
2022

she picks me up

just before eleven,

talk over our favorite thai,

and the last time for years

I will ride down this highway like this

 

the butterfly house

there is something that makes it art

me leaving home and

all those wings

 

we walk through

a piece of st. louis

(the last piece of st. louis

somehow I keep having to tell myself that)

and the years paint all these colors

on the butterflies,

on my hands

and the unforgiving heat rises from all the pictures we take

and I remember all of this from when I was little

but also none of it

I am seeing it from a new height and

a new angle

 

they tell us

we can release a new one into the room

hand us a jar-

she is a pink rose

dark all down her back,

reddish pink spots underneath

so bright they look neon

 

we open the jar and she does not leave

we spend ten minutes gently tapping her out

into the open,

onto a flower

we spend so long

watching her sit unmoving-

this one is apparently her favorite

but I don’t think she’s realized

what you taught me

the world is opening up for her and

you will still be waiting

 

the world is bigger than where she puts her feet

 

I look up down at my mother

and there she is,

the one I have always wanted to be,

smaller than me and still just as important

and we are running the world

from opposite sides of it

and we are crying and cheering

as much as before

and we are still back in the butterfly house

just as much ourselves as we have always been

as long as she’s known me

 

I turn over my shoulder as we leave,

looking for the pink rose.

suddenly she is in the sky.

and I am too.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 5/3/22

Mother's Day

You Don't Know Me

You poor little porcupine.

It startled me that you jumped in front of a moving car.

I wish I could be there for you and help in any way I can.

But your quills pricked my heart when I gave you a hug.

 

I cannot pull them out or I would die.

So I had to tolerate this pain and let it suck the life out of me little by little

While I think back to when our affection for each other mended every obstacle we faced.

 

The future was bright for us.

You couldn’t stand by to let me sink

So you taught me to swim.

I wanted to return the favor badly.

But I didn’t know how I could, sadly.

 

The possibilities were endless when we spoke of our dreams.

You could picture yourself coming to my rescue and growing old with me.

You couldn’t wait to hear my voice as if your favorite show was about to air on TV.

You made every effort to show that you loved me

Even if I have nothing to give you in return except my own.

 

A year passed and the storm clouds were brewing.

The weather grew colder and attitudes turned sour.

I was working hard and I felt out of breath.

You were studying hard and you turned inflammable.

 

“Where was I when you needed me most?” you asked “calmly” one day.

“I’ve been fighting my own battles all this time.” I tell you. “Life hasn’t been kind to me lately.”

Please, please bear with me. I’m tired and I’m scared. I’m going to be left to my own devices.”

“You need to make more time for me.” You scream. “Anyone would have abandoned you ages ago”

“If you’ve been gone for as long as you did. Is several hours with me too much to ask?”

“Answer me, you ignorant, pathetic excuse of a child!!! Grow up!!!”

I couldn’t with you leeching off of my aura.

You made it seem like the world hates me now.

So I packed up my things, spread my wings, and flew off into the rain.

It doesn’t matter how badly you are suffering yourself

If the prospect that I need to take care of myself too slips your mind.

 

I never asked you to help me.

You did so at your own volition.

If you didn’t want to in the first place,

You could’ve answered, “No thank you.”

We could’ve gone on with our lives either way.

 

But here you are.

You called me immature.

You called me a teen in an adult’s body.

You said I never bothered to do my share.

 

But my dear porcupine, have you taken a look at yourself?

Or better yet, look in a mirror?

You don’t see the newfound greed in your heart, but I do.

The scholars in my inner circles do.

 

Whose leg are you trying to pull?

My loved ones know exactly what you said.

They know how selfish you’ve been acting and what I could’ve done.

If you think no one can love me the way you did, you could not be more wrong.

 

I can admit when I am anyway.

You went to town on me like I didn’t know how to count.

And my only response to your passionate rave was goodbye.

In the blink of an eye, you disappeared from my mind. Your quills in my heart decomposed.

It was like you were just another customer that treats cashiers like their punching bags.

 

I wish you the best of luck with your own hardships.

And I hope your own wounds heal entirely.

But I am done with you.

I am done letting your vitriol take up space.

I am done listening to you disguise your resentment as facts.

I am done hating myself for what our love has come to.

My love for you was just practice for the next person.

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

Demeter was wise to tell me to stop getting involved.

Because I discovered that what you don’t know

Was how amazing it felt to give you up and do her work

Without a care in the world. After all, you don’t know me.

The Prince of Darkness Faces His Executioner

Are you ready for it?

I shouldn’t have to ask you that question after all that you have done.

It would’ve been rude of me not to give you a heads-up like this.

Your reign of terror is steps closer to its endgame.

If I do not draw my sword and face the ghosts of my past, checkmate is guaranteed.


I did something bad long ago, but can you blame me?

I’m just a human being that made a mistake because I was not in the right mind.

Anguish and love do not mix because both made my life worse before.

If you respect that my situation is delicate, why do you keep poking the hornet nest?

If you crack it open and the wasps sting you so much their poison burns,

don’t be surprised if I say, “Look what you made me do.”

Your empathy is lacking so why should I care if you are put to rest the next day?

Princes don’t negotiate with paupers like me.

So it goes because fame and violence are always placed above justice and peace.


Isn’t it gorgeous to be the one in control? To run a country or a sect without a care in the world?

Doesn’t it feel amazing when your subjects obey you unconditionally as if you are an almighty god?

These questions reveal to me that aristocrats and celebrities use their authority

for insolence and seduction. No wonder we can’t have nice things.

You are not entitled to my throne even though a liar was the king of my heart before.

What was “yes” today could be “no” tomorrow so I keep fewer promises.

I’ve heard enough empty platitudes from your devotees to realize that an oath is not to be made lightly.


Anything else you want to preach about before I take the getaway car to escape additional agony?

Go ahead and dress your possessive wiles by telling me you love me

And shower me with material goods to let my guard down against my better judgment.

But when you try to use your tenderness as leverage, it is all the more reason for me to leave.

The longer I stay here, the more certain it is that my life is in danger.

My hands are tied keeping the darkness around me at bay for as long as I can.

Fortune is never on my side when I dance, but my sword will always be my partner.

Call it what you want, but the battlefield is my ballroom.

If dancing alone is the only way I can retain my individuality, so be it.


Happy Raʼs as-Sanah al-Hijrīyah, Vlad Dracula.

I’ll see you in Hell.

Dangerous Territory

I’ve been swimming in the deep end lately.

My head is spinning in circles.

My heart had never been so hollow on the inside.

I need to catch my breath before I do anything else stupid.

 

My work of art is an escape from uniformity.

I felt safe with you for the time being.

At the end of the week, you cuddled me

When the sergeant had an off day at work and took it out on me.

 

I let you in like I did when I meet new people.

You were happy for me when I told you I finally found love.

I wanted nothing more than a friend’s reassurance that everything will be okay.

But you in particular were a land mine waiting to explode.

 

It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.

 

I can barely read script in Delphi without misinterpreting some if not most of its passages.

My art isn’t like what you’d expect to see in other do-it-yourself or high-profile projects.

The way I write, the way I archive, and the way I distribute information is my strongest suit.

There is no way I can fulfill my goal in life alone without the help of a team that knows its stuff.

 

You didn’t have to sugarcoat your advice to fix my problems

But you didn’t have to pull more than my teeth either.

You spoke to me as if I had to know every damn trick in the book.

You pointed out where I went wrong as if I didn’t already understand it.

 

I would have welcomed your advice if you watched your language.

I would have been more considerate if we joined forces as planned.

But being friendly with you in light of this is just out of question.

You can say that I’m high all you want, but it goes to show that you’re smaller than you think.

 

It’s dangerous territory where you’re from as a queer.

It’s dangerous territory where I lurk on the web.

It’s dangerous territory to build a world without receiving adequate training.

It’s dangerous territory to make friends with volatile people like you.

 

A vagabond told me this morning that I don’t learn much from success

And boy, I sure did learn a lot about your character more than what it takes to be top dog.

I might also let it slip that you exploded in my face because your little rant was all over the place.

In that case, riddle me this, who among the two of us really needs room for improvement?

The Elephant in My Cell

You came at a bad time.

A terribly, terribly bad time.

You showed up the moment I couldn’t stand to touch you.

I was afraid you were never going to come.

I should have been glad you came, but why am I not relieved?

Is it that crippling fear that the moment I touch you, you fade away like a ghost?

Is it that you might be a whistleblower looking for an insecurity to use against me later?

Or is it that you are trying to distract me from tending to my garden before it dies of thirst?

 

I want to shout, “Why didn’t you come sooner?!”

I want to shout, “Where were you when I needed you most?!”

I want to yell at the top of my lungs, “Would it kill you to tell me what’s driving you away from me?!!”

But I am too nice. Too kind and gentle to scream and point to the elephant in the room.

The very elephant that a sorcerer pulled out of his hat and crippled both of my limbs.

 

I never wanted to call for help because it reinforces the notion that I should still be in high school.

I’ve crawled around all year avoiding the other teenage drama queens that worship dragons.

Seems like they forgot that dragons like to steal our fortunes and our hearts. Before they eat them.

 

Spending time with my open-minded little brother has planted a seed of doubt in my head.

A seed that gets me thinking that all love does to me is waste my time experimenting with false hope.

 

My imaginary nights with a fallen angel goes along the lines of;

“Yes, yes, honey, shower me with hugs and kisses. Oh, my love, how I yearn for you.

Pleasure me with your lust until the water in your veins runs out and you become a raisin.

Only then, will I toss you in the sun and wonder why the hell I’ve never gotten lucky.”

When will the water cycle end for the both of us?

What compels Venus to bewitch me to make bad choices?

Why else do you think independent seekers with degrees in hand avoid commitment?

Our grandparents and parents are more patient than our generation is now

Because compared to us, they tended to their gardens and their raisins.

You did a bang-up job tending to me by showering me with promises you can’t keep,

With complex wisdom about human nature, stories of your struggle to get your education over with,

And the snuggles and touches that I wished were real more than the chains I dream of shattering.

 

You’ve made this game look so easy, you know?

All that had impressed me about you lately is how you’ve lured me into your arms,

Only to neglect me without warning when the sun was at its hottest.

Part of me does not wish to see you go because I tolerate the pain that your absence has left behind.

You scarcely have time on your hands, but would you care to join me for a cup of jasmine tea?

It won’t take long. What I want to know next is what else is new that you have yet to tell me?

The Birth and Flight of a Phoenix

The storm has settled after a long summer.

The skies are clear, but the damage has been done.

I am charred, left abandoned in the ashes.

The humiliation during the wildfire led to my death.

The world I knew and loved disowned me.

 

But a baby bird had risen out of the ashes.

Despite its weak body, the newborn helped me onto my feet.

It led me away to start anew in a foreign world.

After all that had happened that led to this fire,

I know now that my old name is nothing but a memory

Left to be scorned by bloodthirsty eels.

 

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

 

They can deceive the world all they like, but karma has its ways.

They will always be overshadowed by a much more unified flock.

But for now, I walk alone with no one but the baby bird perched on my shoulder.

I see a bit of my old life in it, but it possesses the need to change;

A quality that the world I left behind is too blind to see.

 

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

 

By the time the bloodthirsty eels see me again, it will already be too late.

Their lack of intelligence is what I have to thank for getting me to where

I am needed most the whole time I have slaved away.

Too bad that they'll never know that I am not the poor unfortunate soul that I used to be.

 

The winter has arrived and the joys of Christmas Day have given the baby bird strength

To regain the fire that I have long-admired since I was no less than eight years of age.

The new year is around the corner and it is more than ready to spread its wings and fly

Like it did four years ago. It amazes me to see how kids grow up so fast.

 

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

 

It is no longer our battle anyway for our destiny lies far away from this mom-and-pop.

To Paddle One's Canoe Over Still Waters (A Poem About Fictitious Love Stories)











To Paddle One's Canoe Over Still Waters


 

 



Seeming storylines are child's play

Appearing to you like 'tis

something funny

 

Out of our little trembling political

situation

If only stars are the silent majority

 

They must twinkle—endlessly, without a noise

 

No matter how far we are,

theoretically

The light year spanned space-time

to have brought

me to you

 

—wondering, now, if vice versa is

 

also

true

 

In a sense of delight that had made

young lovers swoon

'Tis a mother's loving caress to a

newborn

 

A perfect love of Astrological

compatibility

And forever they will

choose to share lovingkindness

 

 

—to each other & for others.


As well.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited on 11.23.2019 (I have supplanted the {minor misspelling of "light year"} but this time, I think I have added a period as its resulting emendation, due to a possible lack of it which was previously left unnoticed).

 

 

This is a repost from my Twitter platform & which has been edited for a very minor misspelling of "light year".  I have corrected the two-word noun.  For anything else that I might have edited (e.g., I might have also missed), that could only be involving a tweaking of the form (e.g., which might have been changed/affected by my copying & pasting method of the verses; either that or other copyediting stuff like by changing fonts/font sizes).  Thank you for checking it out.

don't make me

Folder: 
2017

when i’m strong and fierce and full of fire,

running wild

he will not slow me down.

 

he can smooth over all the cracks,

he can tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to know

and more you didn’t,

he can learn the ropes with no shame.

 

he holds his opinions close

and his friends closer.

 

but i still hold back from the free fall,

a fingertip away,

it’s like he’s always searing his edges

and i’m afraid he could steal my fire,

eat me up with the ashes,

leave me barren

 

even though i know he won’t-

his hands are too perfect to belong to a thief.

 

i beg without knowing,

kiss without telling,

love without leaving

he plays me for a fool and turns back every time.

 

all i want to say is

 

don’t make me

regret.

 

when i fall

don’t make me

love or hate the zero gravity.

 

when you touch me

don’t make me

snap,

break the glass.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 3/8/17

Fearless (day 111)

I drop to my knees and start the countdown

Risking the higher law I’ve learned

The fear melts from these open gates

All I want to know has hit the ground

 

You say you still carry everything I’ve done

I can’t help but count your blessings instead of mine

But you dropped the time bomb and hit zero

and with the grand finale I’ve left your head

 

Hands clasped and now the prayers unwind

I know I don’t need them anymore

With a place like this I carry a candle in the dark

And I’m begging on my knees that you’ll see it

 

I’m fearless now, I boast gold on my shoulders

I carry the roses but only drop some at your feet

Knives can’t hurt me, I swing my own sword

And the warriors bend when I turn my head

 

I stand up straight on my own, start the countdown

Love is the higher law I’ve learned

And the fear melts from these silver steel gates

All I need to know I’ve opened with my own keys

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 11/15/16

Fearless

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