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C L O S E R .
You pulled me closer,
And closer.
I let your love sink in like venom.
With every drip i found my life hanging between sweet solace of death and the nightmare of the present.
To you I've gifted my life ,
My love.
To you I find my home ;
Yet you seem like the canon that shoots down my fragile home.
Out of love.
Why say goodbye when you dont mean it ?
Why did I do what I have done ?
Why did I cry Infront of you, begging you to come back and you let me go once again.
And I was left on my own, for the hundredth time.
With love left in my heart for you.
And as I waited for us ,
I ran out of love for you.
O B J E C T
Light me up and I'll lead you to the window of your soul.
- I heard you were a breathing object before you had me.
smoking cigarette & sipping mango, watching the world spin: fighting the urges, my mind is a maze, a cage of contradiction, lost in addiction, losing to my misery, life presents me blessing, good things, in which candid moments of bliss, lie awake & alive, alive as essence, greenery is all I need, nature's naked gifts of life, breathe breath into me, ouroboric wandering idol, cosmic ghost; inward & outward, great thing of wondrous depth, not in death.
i am begging you all to stop treating this site like instagram if you dont want it to be content free by next year
I'm getting in my own way again...
Call out to me so my footsteps halter
Burnish my skin of these lasting marks
Made by tears of my own making
With every footstep that I falter
In fog formed by clouds I mistook in my own ecstacy
Even in shadow
does nature thrive
a silent spectre
full of bristling sighs
with a glimmer
the light then shows
the blooming tree preserved
alive in its shadow
Wednesday, 28th July 2021
Love is more than the dream wistfully painted across torn pages in dripping ink and meadows of wildflowers, by writers and poets huddled by candlelight seeing love written in beloved faces. Seeing love in yearning clouds slowly chasing after the sun's fragile rays. Love is heartache and hurt and pain - a climbing river pushing back against everything you know. It inspires and challenges, it breathes life and ends it. It is everything we want and everything we do not dare to have. Love can bring just as much destruction to the harmony it creates. But it’s never about what love is or what it is not - it is how we shape its destiny within our own lives that counts. Love will always be with you, but will you let it stay? And sometimes we know that we just have to chase it away.
Monday, 19th July 2021
I have scars on my knees from when I was six, hopeful of the days that I could run free from the tangled branches enclosing my mind. They wrapped me in with faces whose eyes always slipped across mine. And then they found my legs and let me slip, numb again from yesterday's wound. I would run, all limitations abandoned, chasing the friends I wasn't close to, always branches apart from the world I was already consumed by. But I was happy. And then I would fall. It happened again and again until I saw the danger in falling, now white stretching marks across the bottom of my knees. I saw the danger in everything.
You can get lost in nature
it entices you into its graceful grasp
luring you into a dream
of eternal sunshine
You walk with stars on your feet
trailing glory in your waking path
rosy fingers grazing smokey clouds to meet
the dawning skies above
Thursday, 8th July 2021
There is freedom in the shadowed storm as the veil-wrapped sky billows in a climbing release. I lay here on the rough strewn ground, a wilderness of rain-kissed grass, tumbled yarn, and loose cut threads. Find me in the running lake carving eyes into the overgrown path, lost to the planted sky now curling into a silver smile.
Freedom is more than just running through the rain on Thursday afternoons.
This deafening cacophony
creates a solitary peace
encompassed in small rooms
rippling a quiet release
if you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not!
1. I love nature view
2. I love to meet my old friends
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Thanks for sending me this @unbalancedscale @wanderingmoon 💙💙🙏
"in a conversation between us,
i turned my poetries into ashes, just
for seeing her warm soul."
A little haiku 💙💙
Happy Halloween everyone 🎃🎃
Have a beautiful day 🌺🌻🌼🌸🏵️
Thank you everyone for your support, I complete my 50 followers on tumblr and it's good to see that people really like my work and reblog my post also I hope it goes 100 and more. Some beautiful souls mention below who follow me. Again thank you very much everyone 🙏😍
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in the ene, it is you and your self love, yourself healing, your self heart. do not give it to others, who will never be yours.
scientists fear
with a hand on the window frame, you looked out at the night sky. & turning your head toward me, you said there was this theory about the universe being ever e x p a n d i n g.
that every star, planet, galaxy & blackhole currently alive, is endlessly drifting apart from it all.
as though in their hovering for distance, in their majestic swaying through stellar matter, every atom of the universe claimed independence from our shared existence.
that same night our last the spellbinding vibes in your beauty & that rant over the cosmos, walked me into a laberynth of oblivion; cause what i forgot to tell you & what you didn’t seem to know, was that there is another theory out there: an antithesis on the dynamics of the universe.
scientists suspect the universe will eventually stop its expansion to begin its c o n t r a c t i o n. exactly as the ball vertically thrown to reach the sky, that at a certain height surrenders to gravity & starts its way down.
scientists fear that every star & planet & galaxy & blackhole will shrink into a single spot in place & time. a sort of big bang in reverse. outside going in.
boom
which is to say: you fled away from me to smash piece by piece the things we had built. i guess in some shape or form we mimicked the universe by drifting away from each other; by sitting on opposite edges of this galaxy; dodging our own asteroids; breathing distant stardust & riding comets that might never cross paths.
imagine, just imagine that these scientists’ fear comes true & all we know to exist begins to compress; will the universe then bring us back to where we were?
a massive clash. gallactic friction.
cosmos to cosmos, blackhole to blackhole, planet to planet, & lips to lips.
hey, this might just be the universe reminding us that we are destined to collide.
- @skinthepoet
Dear Dr. Frankenstein
I, too, know the sciences of building men Out of fragments in little light Where I’ll be damned if lightning don’t
Strike as I forget one May have a thief’s thumb,
Another, a murderer’s arm, And watch the men I’ve made leave Like an idea I meant to write down,
Like a vehicle stuck In reverse, like the monster
God came to know the moment Adam named animals and claimed Eve, turning from heaven to her
As if she was his To run. No word he said could be tamed.
No science. No design. Nothing taken Gently into his hand or your hand or mine, Nothing we erect is our own.
- Jericho Brown (The New Testament)
part of scientists fear is inspired on a story my neighbor told me about this boy she used to date. last nite i gave her a copy of my new zine & just got a text from her saying that particular poem was her fav. poetry whispers names and memories to people.
NEW POETRY!
some weeks ago, my line breaks woke me up before sunrise. they pinched my temples while whispering in my ear: stop caging us in your dark corners, we’re much more than that.
& they’re right; ever since poetry found me trying to escape the wild beasts in my heart, i’ve been keeping them in the back of who i am. shouting to the world this is all of me but please don’t look at that. i can’t do this to my saver. my haven deserves to be honored.
i’m skin the poet, a writer putting it all out: poems, thoughts, line breaks & rhymes. my shortcoming & my light. all for you. I’m here for other poets out there, to engage in a world with you. please feel free to comment on my works or link me your own poetry.
love xx
@skinthepoet
french kiss : expat
hard to explain how i never thought i would end up in france. hard to explain how this country did not choose me to come live here. funny how romantic it sounds to blame it on destiny; as if this country & i were the lovers whose glances first crossed amid the urban chaos of a subway station. no. this magic has never existed in my love affair with this nation.
in spanish: amor apache (or the art of both passionate love & vivid hatred between two individuals). i can't articulate my speech as i seem to have lost my words somewhere in the flames of our burning love.
some days i rot in the frustration of not belonging; a result of frequently trimming the rough edges of a red existence in a blue world. some other late nights, i get to my apartment half drunk on red wine & half drunk on happiness; i lie on the floor of my tiny 19 m2 & feel my neurons marinating in french slangs & tones. i look back on the olden days when french first came dancing on my skin; how it then gently climbed up my spine to waltz on my shoulders & later infiltrate my brains. oh god i wasn't even looking.
tu me fais oublier ma langue maternelle, chaton.
but tell me, france, why have we been so rough to one another? i know this ain't no love story though i certainly did run straight into your arms. please, france, confess to me: how did we become the enemies who suddenly fell head over heels for each other? like the fighters who mysteriously found love in the corner of a boxing ring; & lost in their yearning for a stormy fight, they now fail to draw the line between the infatuation & the bloodshed.
france, just tell me where the loving ends & the punching begins.
s'il te plaît, petite tête.
should we move on with the fighting, may our battle warrant the presence of deities. should we sail off into the open seas of our love, may the wind tell us her secrets on how to flee.
On a pitch-black night, we stare out the window at the emptiness of space. eye to eye, fear to fear. & for a split second, life seems to be all about the safekeeping, the kissing,
& the screaming.
- @skinthepoet
black lips
five weeks before you broke my heart, i had this dream where my father stood in front of me. two generations lost in close-knit shadows, facing the other in the midst of a nightmare & staring deep into the vortex of each other's eyes.
in a rusty voice, he recited to my face every lie he's ever told.
his childhood, the seize, the running, my mom, his misery.
in the rhythm of his words, in the flow of his lies, his lips began turning black.
Lie after lie, his lips, a shade d e e p e r in the obscurity.
turning my back on this show proved useless, as my neck was stiff & my legs, knee-deep in thick soil.
stare & listen, while tears water the ground
i tried screaming, as to suffocate the torture of his words with my own shriek. but my mouth was sealed closed & my hands, disloyal to my commands.
i woke up a fountain of cold sweat, sobbing.
....
two nights before we murdered our love in cold blood, we met for drinks at a bar à vins. the gleam in our eyes yelled to the entire world how traces of ancient grapes ran in our blood. god were we playful while life was onto us.
sneaky little romance
we talked about it all that night: gravity & flying, friction & fire, language & riddles. for the 500th time, you corrected my pronunciation of the letter u. & in the stretching of your mouth, i fell victim to the evident art in your beauty; jawlines dancing in perfect rhythm; an enigmatic symmetry traced in your face.
on our way home, we walked the streets as if sidewalks were made for peasants & we had just been crowned kings. laughing, stumbling, holding onto each other.
in a deserted street, you wrapped me in your arms while murmuring in a secretive voice:
i love you
we both smiled.
& under beams of moonlight, while my eyes hunted for your eyes, i noticed red wine had stained your lips black.
- @skinthepoet
edit contact
in a poetic effort to become, i named every contact on my phone after a feeling.
juliette was adventurousness, or that rushy vertigo hiding at the bottom of a whiskey sour.
mom was comfort, or that first breath running through your lungs shortly after skylines have tried to suffocate your throat.
daf was desire, or spattered instincts behind blue doors & scratched backs on wooden floors.
matt was liberation, or flooding open in thoughts, running through cornfields & chasing dreams in heavy storms.
my father was fear, or still shadows in dark alleys; static threats: apparently harmless & silent, but waiting patiently for their queue.
& then there's you, the feeling i've been trying to stick a definition to. a devised attraction, an affection that stirred out of control. my own frankenstein stumbling along the back streets in my head... hunting for an origin; mumbling the name of his maker.
lost in an endless glossary of blurry feelings, i wonder: what's the word for italian euphonies hymned to my ear?
what's the word for stolen kisses & three-days beards?
what's the word for that love we so eagerly hid & then forgot where we put it?
- @skinthepoet
between black & white, gray
in my dreams, we hold hands & laugh at the idiocy of ancient obsessions & insecurities. we walk on lonely beaches & dance with nature in rainy jungles barely known to humankind.
in my nightmares, i run to escape wild dragons & memories. the blues often tackle me, & when my body slaps the ground, the labyrinth i'm trapped in whispers in my ear:
"running is useless, boy. you're a caged monster too"
- @skinthepoet
skin the poet
skin open the poet to find out how books have been deceiving you: not all hearts pump blood; some, expand in rhymes & contract in line breaks.
skin open the poet to confirm the rumor that between the liver & the spleen lives a tiny being; an imp, absent in daydreams -a social drinker- & a lover of the sax.
1.- take the poet's arm, & rip off a tear of skin. behold a waterfall of metaphors soak your shoes in summer's breeze.
2.- on a surgical table, lay your poet down in such way that his pointy nose threats to drill into the ground. & with the help of a sharp knife, split the meadow on his back into two nations that might have lost it all in war. proceed then to spread open these lands, & discover that a poet's spine abides as marble columns once did in falling rome: oh the burn or the glory? 3.- light a match & heat the poet's earlobes to 95 °. careful, the smoky smell of blue winter shades might stupefy your brains whilst the poet's head gets caught in flames. if so: no stress, your poet's mouth muscles might stretch into a smile, but do keep in mind it's just an involuntary contraction. or not.
4.- once the fire's out & the buzzcut's ready, grab your baseball bat & crack the poet's tibia by the half. hollow bones & secret chambers. see that rolled up paper hidden in there? take it out & read it to the skies; correct, it is nothing but the transcripts of the poet's conversations with the moon. tally marks for bleeding hearts.
5.- as a final act of this medical extravaganza, severe the poet's head & hold it between your hands. do you feel it slowly floating, as if being drawn toward the clouds? stitch the head back in place using a silver needle & a thread of slurred speech. remember poets heal on empty illusions & broken things.
that is all for poetic anatomy 101... ...now wake up the poet.
- @skinthepoet
the dirty & the imbecile
my heart, falling victim to a kidnap my own head had devised,
cries a thousand fears under a flickering lamp.
my heart, freed from a crime my own head once orchestrated,
sings hallelujah in the rain.
- @skinthepoet