NaPoWriMo: Day 3

What if Mother Nature was a whore?

What if Mother Nature was a whore?
A woman who spread her legs as wide as the oceans reach,
So that vessels could land and flourish,
And birth the human race.

What if Mother Nature was a whore?
Perhaps it would explain why dandelions look nothing like sunflowers,
Or why the Sun is nothing like the Moon,
Although they are siblings of the sky.

Mother Nature must have been a whore,
To birth the the sea and the sky,
So similar but not alike.
Vast and Blue, but fathers by masses much unlike.

What if Mother Nature was a whore?
Would we continue to revel in her beauty?
Or expel her from our graces,
As we did Mary Magdalene, the Bible's harlot.

Mother Nature, you whore.
Birthing ugly and beautiful all at once,
Daddy, Daddy, Father Time.
Mama Nature is a whore.

NaPoWriMo: Day 2

Yesterday

Yesterday seems far away,
Lurking in the distance,
It's remnants remaining in today,
Holding on with mulish persistence.

It says, "question the rising of the sun,
From the East and not the West.
Question why the wind chooses to run,
And never lingers for a rest."

Yesterday is a truth, waiting to be told,
It hold's on to our memory,
So that even when ours get old;
It can whisper these secrets in our reverie,

So we call it Déjà vu.
A 'Frenchly' named phenomenon,
A machete cutting through,
The fungal growth our hopes have grown on.

NaPoWriMo: Day 1

I'm a bit late on the start... But late is better than never.. Though never late is better. (Not sure where I heard this but it's running circles in my mind. -.-)

A Woman's Demise

She walks in beauty, like the night.
Supple peaks poking out on both sides of her.
A glorified woman;
Who's youthful exuberance echoes through the streets,
Yes, she walks in beauty, like the night.

She walks in beauty, like the night.
Show stopping the luxury cars that pass her by.
A graceful movement of her hips;
Seducing the headlights of their chariots,
Yes, she walks in beauty, like the night.

She walks in, Beauty.
She is the night.
The cold smack of a whip like the wind,
Or the crackle of a rubber band on five hundred dollar bills,
Yes, she walks in beauty, like the night.

She walks in beauty, but like the night;
The men she lay with are quick to draw;
And without notice, she's on the road,
Walking towards the sunkissed horizon,
Her beauty, like the night, is no more.


Prompt:
Write a poem that has the same first line as another poem.
First line from Lord Byron's (George Gordon) She Walks in Beauty.

Simple. Inspired.

The Three Oddest Words

When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.

When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.

When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.

- Wislawa Szymborska

Vast Night Sky

The melody of crickets,
As they chirr in the background;
While she stares at her reflection in a mirror.
Reflecting off the glasses framing her face
Oval shaped,
Eyes
Face
Lips
A rounded girl.
Stick figure; thin and slender.

She stares at her black painted eyes
Wondering what that glittering glimpse of hope is;
What does she see beyond the mirror?
Glimmering in her eyes,
Like stars shining distant
Nearing the moon
A heat,
A warm kind of dream
A solar system she is naive to.

She stares at herself
Looking past what she sees
Beyond the little particles of matter that sum up her human being
What is she beyond her human,
being?
A dense black hole.
The night sky in her eyes cannot tell
but they are dark enough to embody the shadow that is within
Because she is a shadow within,

She.
Analysing the light that hits her skin
At angles that alter the way her slender shape, shapes
Realizing that she is only a sum of parts
A divine singular individual summing up.
Her night skies know,
They tell it.
A dark whole of matter
Unzipped like a cloak,
Not more than a sum of parts

Inferior to the galaxy
Specks of dust glowing in a magnificent kind of sunlight
They look not much better than what they are,
Nor bigger than what they are
Inferior to the galaxy.
Staring into the reflection of her reflection;
As Crickets chirr in the background.

I think I fell (In love with you)

I think I fell in love with you 

Be cause, 

We spoke of art, 

History and mythology. 

I think I fell in love with you then

Because Artemis 

Pleaded me to;

Run

My hand through

Thick hair

Medusa. 

I think I fell in love with you, 

When 

I tripped over shoulders;

Boulders

Of my own soul’s kidneys

I think I fell in love with you then.

Adonis

Adonis is

This ache that echoes through the entirety of my being

This shadow of yesterday’s debris

An incessant dark cloud that hovers above my mortal self

Adonis tells;

Tells me to be selfless,

Selfless and selfish to my sentiment

Demands that I be selfish

Adonis, why do you hit my with your stare?

Pound me on my tender bosom with your masculinity.

Why do you allow my guts to churn for you?

What divinity has sanctified you with this aptitude?

A peacock in species,

A supreme man.

Lay me down before I falter to your desires.

Catch me with your suave manliness

Like a shadow lurking unseen in the dark,

He withdraws.

Withdrawn as I yearn for him

But when the light strikes his silhouette,

As the hens begin to coo in their cages,

He mounts the mare.

Adonis, a prosaic romantic,

Dare he ask me to be selfless,

Selfless with my being.

Adonis, how can I?

Adonis, how can I,

Refuse?

A lethal dose of Oxygen

I drank you down like a vitamin,
Like you were good for me.
Calcium, Sodium, Oxygen.
A supplement.
You were a vitamin,
Vital to my survival.
Took down the pill,
With vodka on the rocks
Straight death.
Lack of vitamins,
Suicidal cat on its 8th life.
Do you know you're killing me?
It feels like drowning in fresh oxygen
Slowly dying.
Breathe in, breathe out,
Living death.

Your hands are around my neck.
Your brown eyes and pinks lips,
They smile at me.
Smiling in pristine glory.
Leisurely, I drink you like a vitamin,
Breathe you in like oxygen.
Breathing in death.
Don't let me go,
At least you're touching me.
Keep touching me.
The fervour radiating through your hands,
A sensual death.
Keep touching me.
Clasp me in the entirety of your love,
Or hate.
Let me keep breathing you.
Oh, my lethal dose of Oxygen.

Taking in my vitamins,
A kind of suicidal happiness.
Keep touching me,
Hands around my neck.
Kill me with your life,
Lethal dose of oxygen. 

Suicidal Strangulation

I look around myself,
A place so unfamiliar.
I look outside myself,
It feels so unfamiliar.
The dark evades my space,
Strangles me.
Not a breathe
The uncertainty throttles me
The anguish suffocates me.
Self-torturous, it seems.
"You bitch," I'm yelling at myself.
Hand around my own neck.
No salvation for me now.

I'm just getting started on Happiness

Music had always been a source of many of my tears, because it was only once I turned on my music, behind the confines of my olive green bedroom walls, that I was able to explore the feelings of loneliness and distress that would dig out my insides and leave my guts wrenched in knots of uncomfortable anguish.

Tonight, as per usual, I decided to soothe my soul with the sound of Paramore's sweet clamour, and here I find myself wiping tears off my cheeks once more.

It is not the lyrics of the tune, 'Misguided Ghosts', that have me sobbing, or atleast I do not think it is. I have been seated here, oblivious to what I was hearing, but more concentrated on the way the sound of the drums and the strum of the guitar heave my stomach from it's comfortable internal placing. I figure I am not the only one who has experienced this feeling. The closest thing I can compare it to is what we refer to as 'butterflies in one's tummy', yet, it is not exactly accurate.

Irregardless of my inability to convey the exact feeling I am currently experiencing in my gut, I reckon I am still able to describe every other emotion I am experiencing right at this moment. Apart from the uncontrollable tears, there is a widespread smile reaching across my face. Crying faces are rarely the prettiest and this half smile, half frown isn't making it any prettier, but I am grateful that I am in this moment. I had felt as though I had forgotten what it feels like to be completely happy and completely content. I feel as though I have forgotten what it feels like to know that you are secure, surrounded and loved. I feel as though I have forgotten some of the basic necessities of an average life.

I then questioned where my happiness had gone. Had it sincerely abandoned me, or had I been putting it on the back burner? The question can't seem to find itself an answer, and I most certainly couldn't care too much for dwelling on what had went wrong within myself.

I feel like things are looking up. FINALLY. I had come to the conclusion that I'd never see full happiness again or feel content with the life I was living and the people in it. I feel like I have let go of so many things and the hunch that was growing on my back from all the extra weight has been lifted, and my airways have been restored. I can breathe. The feeling is scary, unfamiliar and for a moment, I was taken a back. What the hell is this feelings?

In the words of Paramore, "It's not a dream anymore, it's worth fighting for". Attaining happiness is not a dream anymore, because I have it and I plan on fighting to keep it around. More than anything, I feel beyond blessed. I feel beyond loved and beyond lucky.

From here on out, it's all love and happiness; and it's only just getting started.