Live a little, lie a lot

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I prefer reminiscing the peak of dawn,

the scene of myself lying all limp and lanky

after all my energy I transferred

into your lips.

Spent. Unlike the superficial beauty

that I keep alive in my perfume bottle and complexion

to seduce my equally dashing counterpart.

***

Body of a man.

Face of a woman.

***

Him? Her? My understanding is blurred

while I’m still drunk on life and nihlism.

I like your big hands, though,

a cheap mimicry of the real package.

Old wisdom told me that

ya ain’t good for me, bubs-!

ever since I dubbed you the ultimate

Generator of Dreams.

But what happens when dreams become a reality?

***

“Stay,” I sobbed into an imaginary breastcoat

after you smothered me so hard my head swam

in a narcotic pool of my own making.

“Exist. Even if just.

Else I’ll wither.

Lie to me so hard you fail me

gracefully.”

***

Live a little,

Lie a lot.

Pipe Dream

orange petaled flower
Photo by Evie Shaffer on Pexels.com

 

The air weans in partings of a summer breeze

But nay if it hasn’t swept in a lovelorn fear, or some,

At which I gaze in disconcerted ease.

*

It’s cold here. It’s cold here. I keel, then I’m numb;

That only you’d lie your love onto me — that I’d fain

In a frenzied season’s past, a past my pain is from.

*

One flitting thought, a thousand strolls purged in vain;

‘Tis the consequence of your haunting face,

So sweet my perfume smells like pain.

*

What now? No fear, no sense, no rush, no pace,

My game carried on in unlimited breadth;

I can’t wait forever, but I can’t win time’s race.

*

And so, my eyes faded in recurring death,

I pass you my final requiem on the fog of my breath…

To Mr. Cheerio Diddly-Dee

 

Well, dude – you’re a sap!

You think you’re cute, cuddly and so nice –

Really? You, a lucki-o diddli-doo ol’ chap?

You said, “I love you” – ya should’ve known the price!

Oh yeah, I’ve had my share of guys, too,

Beats me why they’ve got to be so callous;

Now my priorities are confused – what to do?

I mean, it’s not like a girl has a phallus!

***

Look, I understand the friendzone,

I know how it must feel;

But even you yourself said you’re good-for-nothing prone

And you have the kisser of a moray eel!

Your diddli-dee life is plastered online, I see –

Am I – obsessing? Or is it a spiteful bluff?

Well, no, I hate you because your imperfections embody me!

And is one “me” really not enough?

Blue

person with body painting
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A pantoum poetry style.


The carbon copy of a goddess’s design
She beckons me to my internal demise;
Her memories become one with mine
And I am lost, lost in the pools of her eyes.

She beckons me to my internal demise
Till the skin I touch is not my skin anymore;
And I am lost, lost in the pools of her eyes
As they bore into my hollowed core.

 

Don’t Waste Your Love On Me

woman showing her hand
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I simply don’t have time tonight

There be watching, a dozen scrupulous eyes blazing bright

Romantic; though built on an insufferable trifle

The living breath out of me I stifle, stifle, stifle

Nay, don’t lay eyes on a picturesque image of broken identity

Don’t waste your love on me

*

Your doting, your hindsight, your wily-dily woo

Will rouse no bygone heart; it just won’t come through

You wonder: why?

Well, what if my time isn’t nigh?

The thing is, what I want to say is, I forgot

Don’t invest your love in hearts that cannot

*

I’m not real, see; not to them, not to you

Just a lil’ figment of an ideal you thought you knew

Seek me, love me, keep me, die

You can even put that in order, though they all might try

And your idol thus said: “I’m sorry.

Don’t waste your love on me.”

***

*Does productive stuff for the past two hours* Okay I’m bored now. What should I do next? Hmmm-hmmm…

 

Evening-goer’s Delight

It’s been a while. I’ve been quite busy with things, some of which I like, but in the process had to sacrifice other things that I also like (like writing/blogging). I stepped away from my history book and outside the door for some fresh air. The twilight weather was…wow. It’s November here in California, which means it’s getting chillier, but on rare occasions, the weather and the atmosphere is like SUMMER again! And I was so overwhelmed that I had to jot down this poem to preserve the perfection. I’m happy to say that in those long busy autumn days, my poetic muse is still alive.

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***

My God! — the time is perfect

The time is NOW

The creamy twilight merges into

A homely conglomeration of serendipity

Earthly needs, they call me to stay

For if not, I’d just fade away

Into the raw serenity.

*

I sing a song of the crickets

The shy evening sky — oh, just ever-so-high!

To the one who flaunts November summers

Your warm breath frames a picture-perfect standstill

I forgot my sorrows

I forgot such things as tomorrows

There’s no WIND — just a looming, sweetly chill.

*

The strands of sun have tucked in, now

The air feels on my fingers — like a tender cheek

Let me lean on you, revel, BREATHE

I just don’t want to think, lest I cave

Cave to your impish cues

Yet your presence shines on in sunset hues

For you’re the one I desperately crave.

***

P.S: You know that picture up above? Yep, that one’s mine. I actually took it on my old ipod. And for an old ipod, I actually liked the way the picture turned out!

 

Play It Again

blur close up closeup flowers
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The nice thing about poems is that there’s no wrong or right way to write one You just do. Meanwhile, I wrote this poem almost as though a sensation called “automatic writing” came over me.

What’s this one about? Hmmm. How do I tell you this…it’s pretty speculative. Wishful, I daresay. And the piano can be a metaphor, I realized…

*****

I saw you in the piano room today

I saw,

I saw,

How your concerto was only child’s play

The keys mourned the end of a summer breeze

Such longing! I thought the night-stilled air would freeze

Meanwhile you were lost in a soliloquy

I just lay there and felt your eternal sigh

*

I’d be the gem to your forte

I wish,

I wish,

In those same little notes that swept my breath away

You said the time, while it lasted, was a bliss

What, no parting kiss?

I’ll hear of you again, if the future’d entail

For Anthony Greninger lingers on in your trail…

By the River I Mourned Sorrow

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Next to the river I mourned sorrow

It raged a Nile, raged w’out a morrow

My heart beared heavy remembrance

While in my hands

A voice converted into snapshot remnants.

*

I held the recording device to my ear

Finally, finally, purging time’s near

Lil’ brook of a fountain’s voice, so divine

Surged into a roar

Though through it all, I could still hear mine

*

I said: I’m in pain

She said: I promise to not disdain

I told her, I spake the word, I cried

Carry me now, tears…

I thought you’d like to be my bedside

*

November shards of heart would drip

Through the air’s chilly stills were the sound of a stifled rip

A whirlpool of hopes, I’m thinking

The waterbed gave IN

I was reliving, relieving, sinking…

*

Then I broke the water surface suddenly apart

A fresh awakening, a new start

In last commemoration of what was to be

The ripples took on tears

Before they cleared and turned into…me

Put this one in a Hallmark card already!

Image result for prom room

In my Russian community, if someone graduates from a Russian-based school, they get a “White Ball” to celebrate in their honor. We also give them a gift. Sis drew the cover for a card while I, being the poet, had to think of a one-stanza poem to fit inside.  If you have any related events where you give a card prior to a graduation dance or prom, and you don’t know what to write — use THIS! 

***

Another ball to dance the night away

A rite of passage is yours today

Cheers, music, laughter and the jive

What a joyous day to feel alive!

***

Tweak as you see fit. 

Is It You?

Image result for house at night
Courtesy of: Niklas Agevik

This week in:  a lonely stargazer finds comfort in the littlest things.

***

“Is it you?” I asked an ancient oak of green

The trees bowed their cloaks to the wind

I thought I heard them sigh

When to the sky they grinned

And gave me no reply

*

“It it you?” I queried of Garbage Cat

He was busy playing Master of Diguise

Till Twolegs witnessed his nocturnal play

He looked on with beady eyes

Before he snuck, skipped and scampered away

*

“Is it you?” I entreated one of my own

Warm was their homely circle of light

That enclosed them here and nigh

Together! Laughter! Love! Such was the sight

I almost waved and said hi

*

Nature and Night, they brought an ear to lend

From lamppost sidewalks to the mango grove

They had a voice, and I a friend

God help me, I’ll find the one I love

And I WILL find the one I love…

*

This might have to be revised some. We’ll see, though.