Word Vomit

by poetaster

[poet-aster]

beautiful in the dark

Ever so slowly, the night came. Silence spread like wildfire. It seemed like everything was going to sleep. And so before everything did, I adjusted my eyes to see better at twilight. And started to etch images in my head.

The skyscrapers blocking the warmth earlier that day and cloaking everything in shadows, became part of the night sky. The windows that never gave way to the sun, now twinkles. As well as the traffic that never ended and never moved, danced like fireflies in a summer night. I etched and carved in my head. At the back of my head. And every night I still ask myself, “why is everything more beautiful in the dark?”

[poet-aster]

[beautiful in the dark]

Ever so slowly, the night came.

Silence spread like wildfire.

It seemed like everything was going to sleep.

And so before everything did,

I adjusted my eyes to see better at twilight.

And started to etch images in my head.

The skyscrapers blocking the warmth earlier that day

and cloaking everything in shadows,

became part of the night sky.

The windows that never gave way to the sun,

now twinkles. As well as the traffic

that never ended and never moved,

danced like fireflies in a summer night.

The construction cranes

that never ceased their turning like clockwork,

now stand tall as part of the skyline,

their shadows stretching out like giant fingers,

overseeing the city below.

I etched and carved in my head.

At the back of my head.

And every night I still ask myself,

“why is everything more beautiful in the dark?”

[poet-aster]

My Body

[tw // sh] For as long as I can remember, I've been a target - one can easily dismember, Always left to tremor or surrender, To the hatred they try to render.

I walk the streets, and they call me names, They whistle, jeer, and my heart is maimed. My eyes, my ears, all in flames. My body, my being, they tried to claim.

On public transport, I am on high alert, As groping hands try to make me hurt. Their vile touch, their depraved flirt, A daily ordeal, I must endure and skirt.

At work, I try to blend and hide, But their stares make my skin crawl inside. Their words cut deep like sharpened knives, A reminder that I'm not valued as a life.

I long for a day when I can walk free, Without fear of what they'll do to me. A world where respect is the only decree, Where my body isn't a clean-up site to be.

[poet-aster]

after bones goes to bed

dream tiptoes

awaken from the edge

of the crescent heart

—–

blockout poetry no. 01

[poet-aster]

After bones goes to bed, Dream tiptoes into my head. Whispers of stories yet untold, As I journey into the night's hold.

The crescent heart beats within, As I awaken from the edge I've been. A world of magic and wonder, Where my imagination can't be tamed under.

[poet-aster]

Quest's End

In days of yore, a knight on horse did ride, Through woods and fields, a questing heart and mind, Until he reached a river, pink and bright, Its waters like a dream of fairy kind. He stopped in awe, enchanted by the sight, As from the depths emerged a nymph so fair, With eyes like stars and skin as soft as light, She danced and twirled with flowers in her hair.

The knight was lost, bewitched by pink water, He felt a pull he could not comprehend, As if his heart was tied by love's strong tether, And he knew then, his quest had found its end. The river nymph had claimed his soul that day, And in her arms, the knight forever lay.

[poet-aster]

without speaking, from the first day.

the scenic smile, unhurried, relaxed.

staring for a little while.

her face, his lips pulled into a surrender.

the radiance keeping vigil, waiting for the opening. _____________________________________________________________

Without speaking, from the first day, The scenic smile, unhurried, relaxed, Staring for a little while, Her face, his lips pulled into a surrender.

The radiance keeping vigil, Waiting for the opening, A connection that needs no words, An unspoken understanding that's unfurling.

In the stillness of the moment, Their souls dance a silent dance, A language that only they can hear, A bond that needs no second chance.

For in this wordless conversation, Their hearts speak volumes without a sound, A connection that's deep and profound, A love that needs no words to be found.

[poet-aster]

I am a Woman, I am an Errant Tide

I break against the shore with force and might, changing the landscape in my wake, a constant fight. The sand beneath me shifts with each ebb and flow, I carve new patterns, never staying in one plateau. My waters churn with fervor, never to be tamed, a force of nature, leaving those around me maimed. I am an errant tide, unpredictable and wild, my path meanders, never to be reconciled.

[poet-aster]

My Hamartia, My Downfall

My tragic flaw is indolence, Laziness a constant presence. Procrastination, my obsession, Leaves me in a state of regression.

My mind wanders to nonsense, Fantasies that make no sense. A futile escape from reality, A failure of my own mentality.

And so I suffer the consequences, Of my lack of motivation and senses. A tragic hero in my own right, Failing to rise to the fight.

I'm no Macbeth nor a Greek hero, No tragic fate or fatal arrow. I may not be destined for greatness, But I'll still strive for success, no less.

______________________________________________________________

ha·mar·ti·a /həˈmärdēə/ noun a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine. "there's supposed to be an action that reveals the protagonist's hamartia"

[poet-aster]

Watershed

My pillow is a watershed, Where I rest my head, Where my fears bled. It's where I cry myself to sleep, And where my secrets I keep, Where I release my heart's deep ache, And where my soul can finally break. But in the morning, it dries anew, Ready to cradle me through and through, My pillow, my sanctuary, my friend, Until the next night, where I'll confide again.

[poet-aster]

a note to live with

to shake this feeling 

to cause you pain 

to be able to miss your crazy 

to know that I cannot love you 

to stop being your heart 

[poet-aster]

A note to live with, 

A message in my mind, 

A feeling that I can't resist, 

But it's time to leave it behind.

To shake this feeling that's inside, 

And let go of the pain, 

To free myself from what's denied, 

And break this binding chain.

I cannot miss your crazy ways, 

For they only caused me harm, 

I cannot love you like I used to, 

For my heart can no longer be charmed.

It's time to stop being your heart, 

And let you find your own way, 

To find my own path, and restart, 

And live for a brighter day.

So I write this note to live with, 

To remind myself of the truth, 

That it's time to let go and move on, 

And start a life anew.

[poet-aster]

dancing pages 

lay scattered on the floor,

 in the bed, 

around her, 

next to her head. 

subtle intimacy crawled 

formed 

by the only company wanted.

[poet-aster]

Dancing pages lay scattered on the floor,

A symphony of words, a literary score,

On the bed and around her, they lie,

Whispers of stories, that never die.

Subtle intimacy crawls in her mind,

A feeling of comfort, she cannot unwind,

Formed by the only company she desires,

Words on the page, that never tire.

She loses herself in the world of words,

A realm of imagination, where she soars,

Characters come alive, in her head,

Their stories unraveling, as she lies in bed.

The pages rustle, as she turns them,

The words creating a world, a gem,

A place where she feels safe and sound,

The only company she wants around.

So let the pages dance and twirl,

As she loses herself in this world,

A subtle intimacy formed by her desire,

A love for words, that will never expire.

[poet-aster]

It’s coming again. This awful gnawing feeling,  eating me alive.

@poet-aster (via poet-aster)

It's coming again, That feeling of dread, A gnawing sensation within, That's eating me up inside instead.

It creeps up slowly, uninvited, And takes control of my mind, A force that can't be fighted, Leaving me feeling confined.

It's like a weight that's hard to bear, Anxiety that consumes my soul, A feeling that's always there, Making me feel like I'm not whole.

But I won't let it defeat me, I'll fight with all my might, For I know I am strong, you see, And I won't give up without a fight.

I'll breathe deep and take control, And let go of all that weighs me down, I'll rise above and become whole, And turn my life around.

So let it come, that awful feeling, I'll face it with courage and grace, And I'll rise up, with a newfound healing, And find my own happy place.

[poet-aster]

your shallow breathing when you sleep and other lullabies in my head

@poet-aster

[poet-aster]

Your shallow breathing when you sleep,

Is a lullaby to my ears so sweet.

I watch you slumber, calm and serene,

And I can't help but feel my heart sing.

The rise and fall of your chest so gentle,

Is a melody that's truly instrumental.

It's the rhythm of your peaceful rest,

A song that puts my mind at its best.

And as I watch you sleep tonight,

Other lullabies fill my mind so right.

The memories of our love so true,

Are lullabies that I sing to you.

The sound of your laughter, so full of joy,

Is a lullaby that my heart employs.

And the way you smile with all your might,

Is a lullaby that fills me with delight.

So sleep well, my love, and dream away,

For I'll be here beside you, come what may.

And I'll keep singing lullabies in my head,

Until the morning sun rises instead.

[poet-aster]

Beauty is not confined to the light

Beauty is not confined to the light,

For there's a radiance in the dark of night.

A quiet elegance that's all around,

A peaceful stillness without a sound.

In the darkness, stars light up the sky,

A glittering display that catches the eye.

Their distant twinkling like a guiding light,

A beauty that's truly a wondrous sight.

The moon in its phases, a changing face,

A luminous orb that illuminates the space.

Its soft glow creating a tranquil mood,

A beauty that can never be subdued.

The darkness itself has a certain charm,

A sense of mystery that's disarm.

It hides secrets yet to be discovered,

A beauty that can never be uncovered.

So don't be afraid of the night,

For there's a beauty that's out of sight.

Embrace the darkness with an open heart,

And let its beauty become a part.

[poet-aster]

Open Casket

Depression is an open casket,

A darkness that engulfs the soul.

A place where happiness is masked,

And sadness takes control.

  It's a coffin that's left open wide,

For all to see and feel.

A place where emotions collide,

And wounds refuse to heal.

  It's like a funeral procession,

Where mourners all attend.

Only it's your mind that's the possession,

And you're the one who's left to fend.

The casket sits there open,

For everyone to see.

A mind that's broken,

And a heart that's not free.

[poet-aster]

loop

but darkness -

darkness cradles me,

lulls me to an ocean of nothingness.

but my lurid thoughts stimulates my head -

oh but they help me ease myself onto my bed,

bed of regrets -

of words that didn't even reach the tip of my tongue

collecting and renting a space at the back of my head.

and when the light starts creeping in between the curtains, 

I would close my eyes 

but the words would stare right back at me, cursing me -

keeping me wide awake.

and all I could do is to hide under my blanket of insecurities

rocking myself back and forth.

dawn is sweeping in fast,

draining what's left of me at its wake,

but darkness -

[poet-aster]

This is why I learned first-aid.

I eat anxiety for breakfast.

I know because

I choke to the beat of my heart.

Every morning, right out of my bed.

my heart beat, an alarm ringing - deafening- in my neck.

Banging, waking me up in the process.

In cold sweat, catching my breath.

Every morning, I waste half a day

Heimliching myself.

forcing out this foreign object called courage,

been stuck on my throat for so long

I know it'll never come out.

It won't even let me sleep at night.

I had to drown it first with tears.

Rock myself to sleep with my own sobbing-jerking uncontrollable movements.

only to wake up choking the next day.

[poet-aster]

Some Names

They've called me a lot of names before.

Some were already forgotten.

Some I've been carrying on my back like a burden.

Maybe I don't know what they're actually for.

There's only one thing I can guarantee,

I've forgotten what my mother had given me.

---

@nosebleedclub August Prompt

(August 1, 2021) "names"