Kitchen Poetry # 66.
As the sun dips
behind the hills
open your windows
open your heart
and listen to the breeze
as it kisses the pines
because here in the night
in the comfort of the dark
under a blanket of stars
I'll sing to you
a lullaby.
at
Kitchen Poetry # 65.
You find each other
like driftwood
floating in an endless ocean
towards a horizon too far out of reach
and you cling
desperately,
to one another
until inevitably,
you drift apart.
at
Kitchen Poetry # 64.
After a Summer of loving
your heart does shatter
and you can feel
each jagged edge
moving
slowly
stabbing you
shredding your insides
traveling through your veins.
at
Kitchen Poetry # 63.
So please
no matter what
do not love me for my skin
it’s just a soft shell
easily shed,
cut,
and burnt
love me for how I make you feel.
at
Rhinestones, Shine Like Diamonds.
It's better not to look
at the heartache
the nameless, faceless pain
but I see you everywhere
a sight to behold
in funny coincidences
as I think of beauty,
I only see you.

You break me into pieces
yet I cry, "hold me now"
now that I'm bare and vulnerable
without the sparkling
sunset hue
that youth bestows
I need you to see me now
as you saw me then.

So as you wrap your coat around you to leave
I will be
the taste that remains
of a bittersweet story
the vessel to pour yourself into
when hope becomes dim
and you need a place to hide.
at
Kitchen Poetry # 62.
What the body has remembered
words cannot form into language
muscle memory is touching your side of the bed
heartache is finding it cold and empty.
at
A Form In the Night.
I would usually drive home but it was the sort of night that you just had to experience. It was one of those humid nights but chilly enough that I had to turn my collar up. So I walked back and let the pulse of the city engulf me. I felt rather cool and fancied that I struck a very Dean-esque figure walking about as adrenalin pumped through the streets and flowed into me, energising me. You suddenly grabbed my hand and I felt electricity flow through your fingers and jolt me. I think you felt it too because you smiled when I winced from the touch. Tomorrow morning the city would return to normal buzzing with business folk rushing about with cups of coffee in one hand and cellphones in the other but tonight it bristles with magik. And just like us, tomorrow we would morph into our old boring selves again but for now we could pretend to be anyone we wanted to be.
at
Translating the Profane.
This emotional crutch
needs an emotional crutch
someone is always waiting
hopelessly
I am always waiting
crying out
take me with you when you go
as you disappear into the tide
that pulls you under.

I've tried
but I've taken all I can
when my tongue tries to fight
a piece of me dies trying to conceal it
there is nothing left of this heart
but a lump of meat turned to coal.

So when I'm gone
(please) don't preserve my memory
I'm not your insect immortalised in amber
or your corpse waiting frozen in ice
don't romanticise what this is
it was what it was till it was no more
just scatter what remains
and forget me.
at
Tokens of Nothing.
Let the tears and the clouds explode
scorching you
as rain falls heavy like molten lava
it fills the void of what was once real
an imagined illusion
like dark shadows dancing on walls
and now a rumble like rolling thunder
edges closer
stifling you with its presence
breathe in deep
whilst the deluge fills your lungs
drowning your screams
and everything that once was
the current whips you and it tosses you like a banshee in the night
breaking the silence with a smile and a fright
till left becomes right and up becomes down
till nothing but a broken shell remains
bloodied, dismembered
and disfigured.
at
Testimony of A Broken Life.
If you would just lift the fog that sits heavily upon your eyes you'll see an azure sky. The birds swim in delight above you and they're calling your name. And look how the sun kisses your pale skin. Can you feel it's gentle bite teasing you? Doesn't that warmth feel wonderful? Just breathe and let the knot that resides in your chest melt away. No one can be sad on a day like today. Open your sweet eyes to a new beginning. I can assure you the dark damp night has finally left your heart.
at
Kitchen Poetry # 61.
It must be nice
the feeling
to be wanted
to be needed
to inspire such beauty
to inspire such chaos
I just hope that one day
someone will want me
the way that he clearly wants you.
at
A Postcard, A Phonecall.
A kiss
but a brief encounter
of souls, through lips,
but how does a moment
contain such enormity
when falling in love
could taste like centuries.
at
We Have Both Tried.
You came in like a tornado
and intoxicated me
suffocated me
with words and thoughts and ideas
you are a single incident
an organised whole
perceived as more than the sum of your parts
your voice, your gestures, your smile
you've stained me
you are my Gestalt.
at
Shifting Spaces.
The wind howls
and torrents of rain batter
crashing relentlessly
against the stained glass windows of my heart
pouring down in rivulets
as the ghosts of what we were
still haunt me.
at
After their diaspora
all that remained
was no longer a home.
at
Forgetting Desire, Breaking the Weather.
I rose early to greet my lover
and when it was time for her to rise
I blew a kiss towards the heavens
and the skies blushed as the world awoke.

Liquid darkness dissipates into luminescence
as first light bathes the bowered pathways through a tangle of roses
it settles in the valley of your back
and on the delicate slopes of your shoulders
spreading within seconds
ink bleeding on paper
like the blissful unfurling of seraph wings that fill the horizon.

I can feel the earth pulsing with energy
outside the measured cadences of birds hum and sing and ring
I said to my soul, "be still and be quiet"
just remain enveloped in this consensual hallucination
within the seconds of light that shimmer between two dimensions
as specters of dust dance around your sleeping form
they catch the light and I am bewitched.
at
C r e a t e    t  s  u  n  a  m  i  s
u n d e r        m y             s k i n
b y   g h o s t i n g   f i n g e r t i p s
o n                m y             h i p s
at
Sleeping In Baghdad.
Life has its small moments
commonplace beliefs that have become significant
But your heart aches with wonderlust
to escape reality for a moment
and embark on countless journeys,
cathartic and empowering.

So what happens when someone falls for you?
I am no longer able to be who I used to be
See, I'm fixated on the next step
I'm that someone who's into you
And I'll linger on the small moments
and reminisce the fleeting glances
in the hopes that there is something bigger
something much better
waiting in the hazy lazy days of the future.
at
In the Ashes, You Find My Body.
In that crowded restaurant, the air was thick with smoke my head was lost in a gentle buzz. The din of the dinner crowd was matched only by the music blaring on the loudspeakers. It was so loud I could not even hear myself think. A good excuse to lean in close whenever you spoke. I pretended not to hear you the first two or three times just so that you would remain inches from my face. You were so close that I could feel your hot breath on my cheek. I watched your lips move and tried to focus on what you wee saying. Every instinct told me I should lean a few inches forward and close that gap between us. But there were too many people watching. That restaurant was too damn well lit for even the briefest of encounters between waiting lips. I'm sure people were watching us. I'm sure people were watching you. Could they tell what was on both our minds? The elderly couple behind you kept looking at us. Maybe they thought we were siblings. How funny that would be because just then, you grabbed my hand from off the table and placed it on your thigh. You could've been a little drunk but I didn't mind at all. Maybe I was a little bit intoxicated as well. Intoxicated on your perfume, your smile, your eyes and your thigh under my hand. You didn't care that now you'd caught everyone's attention. The bar manager saw and I guess he was smiling. Because given half a chance I bet he would have loved to be me at that moment. But you were with me and I was getting lost in the way your lips moved when you spoke. You kept drinking and I wished I could be the libation that would quench your thirst forever. I wished that I could be everything you ever needed. And I kept wishing we weren't in that busy restaurant and I cursed that table for being so small. Maybe it was the smoke, or that look in your eyes, but if you would have asked me, even in a hesitant whisper, I would have taken you home with me immediately. But instead we sat there and our mouths spoke of the mundane whilst our eyes communicated the profane. I kept drawing circles on your thigh. Hoping the signal I was sending out was loud and clear. Why'd you have to be so close yet so far away?
at
Muddled Emotions.
Sitting in a bright sunny place
you feel the dark collapsing around you
it settles in your heart
oppressive like a dark cloud
but Love,
that's just your shadow
turn around
and look at me.
at
BlackOut Poetry #9.
I love speaking with you
but I'm afraid
nervous and unsure
of these sentences
I string together
and how you'll receive them
(they're yours).
at
Letters Into Space.
I like the way our fingers intertwine
searching
for a formula
for an equation
that explains how seamlessly
they fit together.
at
An Angel with No Wings.
I'm doing just fine. I go out on the weekends and I dance with strangers like it doesn't remind me of you. I laugh with new friends and the smell of jasmine no longer makes me think of your perfume. I no longer remember how the lights from those tungsten stars reflected in your eyes. And guess what, I can smile brighter now and I've even forgotten the way your hand fit seamlessly into mine. I can go home alone, turn up the TV and drown out every single memory of you. 
at
"Sometimes we want to turn it off. That voice in our head that screams to us exaggerated notions of what we are like. It’s the voice that makes it so hard to escape the couch most nights, our own personal sauna of neuroses. TV helps, if we’re looking for a brief escape from it. Booze sometimes too, though we always think that will help more than it actually does. But these are like Band-Aids for a severed limb. We know the silence they create is the brief exception, not the rule. It’s spending time with the ones we love most, the ones with which we’ve stopped bothering to watch our angles, that gives us our most peaceful moments. Though it is not silence that they give us, but harmony."

 Don't get lost in yourself
Get lost in me
I can take the troubles you carry
I can take it if you let me.
at
Genesis.
Hey you,
Here's a map
a path that leads
from my heart
straight to yours
if you look closely
you'll see that although apart
mine's cradled in your hands
and head to head
cheek to cheek
I wish I could kiss
all your demons away.
at
Hiding In Your Torso.
Nothing beats a heartbreak
clenched fists and sweaty palms
gasping for air
on the bedroom floor
we cling to caricatures drawn with shaky hands
but who expects an honest portrait
laughing and yelling
under those conditions, you internalise them
no one said you had to be a superhero
when as you gaze out that train window
just remember
it's the reflection that's blurry
and not you.
at
What Did Salt Preserve?
Your eyes flash like mirrored lightning
a fire that burns of drowsy desire
those somnambulant romances
heavy and damp
where hope grows in a meadow of whispers
like the alchemist and doyen of deconstruction
it echoes in twilight's caress
willingly a bolt is unhinged
breathed out heavily between sighs
when passion ignites the plumes of incandescent liquid ash
and untethered silhouettes
find ease and comfort in the contours of shadows
transforming a dimly lit cabin
into a paradise of colours
and hastily made promises.
at
Loud and Muted.
Streetlights that stand like sentinels
   once cast a warmth into the dark
But now the night is splintered
   and the cold seeps in through the shadows
Letters no longer make sense
   and broken flames highlight angular buildings
They block out the stars, remember those stars?
   and they hide the moon
"Choose," I say and breathe life into these veins
   or let the darkness in and I'll fold my wings away.
at
Complex and Washed Away.
Each day you drive in circles until you realise you've been on this same route for months. And then the cold blows in, loudly announceing its arrival like an unwelcomed but expected guest in the the wee hours of the morning. It drags its feet across the tarmac and tiny whirling tornados follow with every heavy step. There's nothing left to do because now, the cold is here to stay. And it's determined to make you accept this no matter how hard you kick and scream against it. With every blow, every blast and every tingle that goes shooting down your spine, your resilience lessens. Sometimes, in a moment of weakness, you could be forgiven for even considering the cold as a welcomed lover. Because it steals your breath. And in the mornings you'd rather lie in bed surrounded by its chilly embrace.
at
She Doesn't Know How Not To.
When you call at 1 am
vulnerability dangling from every word
your voice stripped down
bare, earnest,
this is when
I love you the most.
at
Minutes.
You are
a moment in time
Something I'd tattoo
on my wrists to remember
Do you know
you've left an indelible mark
across the plains of my heart?
at
About Love and Hands.
I thought that was bold
You placed my hand on your thigh
Under the table
In that crowded restaurant
A few people were staring
I could feel my cheeks burning
Your leg was on fire
And so was my desire.
at
Mourning A Moment That Dies.
I love you
and all your make-believe imperfections
Give me your brokenness and your self loathing
Because you are beautiful
and I wish there was a way for me to make you believe
That you're more than those models on tv
You're more than your pant size
You're more than the number on your weighing machine
You're more beautiful than anyone I know
But you hate your tummy, your arms and your thighs
When these are the things I love the most about you
I also love your lips
I could kiss them forever
I love how they quiver just before ours meet
I love how you stare at me through hooded eyelids soaked in passion and lust
And I love my hands on your hips
As we dance to the beat of two hearts in conversation
But I love your heart the most
as pure and untouched as the first snow that falls on a winters day
When the words "I love you" fall freely from my lips
You ask me,
"What's wrong with you?"
And I will say,
"Baby, I can see what you can't and you're perfect."
"Look in my eyes . . . don't you see just how beautiful you are?"
at
Kitchen Poetry # 60.
I'm a pyromaniac
so what did you expect I would do
when you come in here
looking
so
damn
hot.
at
Kitchen Poetry # 58.
I like it best
when we are sharing
quiet wordless
conversations.
at
"I know I love you because I think you’re beautiful even when you’re not. And I don’t mean good-looking, I mean beautiful, beautiful like there’s something pervasive and magnetic about you that comes through even when you look positively bad. I think you’re beautiful even when you’re hungover and puking your guts out, covered in hives. I know I love you because I think you’re beautiful even when you’re wearing Crocs and that’s no small accomplishment."
at
Kitchen Poetry # 57.
Catch me
as I fall into you
and two shadows
blend into one.
at
Leaping to Fall In Love.
Don't tie your hair in a messy bun.
Don't flick your ash like you don't care.
Don't hide 'cause I see you flinch from those spoken words.
They sting worse than punches
and the bruises never fade.
And I see how you dismiss the hurt by playing it cool.
But darling,
there ain't no one who feels nothing.
And you can disguise your feelings with all that black you wear.
Or paint on your mascara thick like you don't give a damn.
But baby,
people are gonna talk no matter what;
how much you ate,
how thin you are,
that you think too much,
that you don't care enough,
that your heels are too high,
or you're pretending to be someone else
or just how you do,
or how you don't.
And I know these things play off on your mind and keep you up at night.
But bottling it up isn't going to ease the swell in your troubled heart.
It'll just feed the sorrow and someday that old bubble is gonna have to burst.
So here, take my hands
because they're yours to hold.
And don't look surprised
because they've always been.
Maybe you never noticed them,
or maybe it wasn't the right time.
Or maybe you were holding out for another pair of hands.
Now I know these hands are small.
They look fragile
but they're all I've got to give.
Oh yes, there is my heart
but you claimed that long before I could auction it off to the highest bidder.
These fragile hands will
hold,
caress,
support,
and cure you.
If you're weary
they'll rock you to sleep.
They'd do more than just move mountains
and part oceans for you.
So take these hands and hold on tight.
But don't doubt these hands
because they're yours to hold.
at
These Fireworks.
A manifestation of my heart when I'm happy. And just in case it isn't as obvious as a clear blue sky after a storm breaks, you are the reason for my happy. Babe just like these fireworks you are breathtaking and beautiful and have just enough boom and bang to make my heart bounce about in its lonely cage. Your sparkle reminds me I'm alive. And when I'm sad your voice is so loud and it reverberates in my head drowning out the demons inside and clearing away the heavy cobwebs within. So don't you ever be sad. Because a sad firework could never dance or light up the sky the way you always do with mine.
at
Subscribe to: Comments (Atom)