The Hollow Sparrow

She tasted sorrow, medicine, and lips, Yet only one was administered in sips.

[thehollowsparrow]

Untitled, I.

Today I cleaned the place

In which I coexisted with my self,

My thoughts and generated image.

Filling up bags, under my eyes

I made room for new and threw

The old shed scraps into storage

Filled by moments of me, of you.

A polaroid of me and my first friend,

The necklace of my first fling that sparked

Up my whole being, now ashes of the dead,

And a silly torn up doll which I carried as a kid

One day slipped on it and cracked open my head.

A journal of angst filled scribbles, that now I deem

as childish what then encloaked all that I've seen

The pencil that I stole, rocked my values to the core.

Wherever I stepped, whenever I have been

Mirrored in others as a character unknown

A few bonds with truthful thread

Unbreakable I've sown to withstand

The times my mind separated from

My self, and my image that witnessed

As this predicament unfold.

Today I cleaned the place

On which I lay my head at night

To reminiss the drops that fell

And the ripples left behind.

A trinity of being that coalesced inside me

Pushed me to the brink of going out of hiding.

Tomorrow will begin anew in all its beauty

And my heart will fail once more,

To find solace in its duty.

[thehollowsparrow]

The Marble Dove.

Sweet dove,

Pale marble cinder block,

Twisted knob of a rusted lock.

Like I could give a..

Helping hand,

A spoonful of dusty sand

Collected from the strand

Where you dozed off at noon.

There, I lay a leaf to block

The sunshine as I croon

And walk towards my love,

The sweetest little dove.

[thehollowsparrow]

Breakfast.

Do you ever think of the dinner I fucked up that night?

How I snapped in anger tightening my hand around the dagger,

The overhearing of muffled shouts and brussel sprouts as a choice to garnish,

And how I forgot to wipe the water off the skillet when I added oil.

Not only the temperature was close enough to boil.

As I regained my composure, and without any disclosure,

Wearing the apron you got me for my birthday,

A scent of burned and ruined followed my behind

As I brought a sandwich right under your sight.

Patiently, you smiled back and grinned,

Probably thinking that me in the kitchen is the most horrendous sin,

But chowed down nonetheless

Cleaned the plate and said sleep tight

Right after you smooched my cheek

And switched off the lights.

So do you ever think of how sweet you were that night?

Because I did when I read the following morning

The note left on the counter:

"Loved the dinner, next one's on me".

You're such a jubilant encounter!

[thehollowsparrow]

Satyr IX (Saturnine).

Rushing gusts of wind had signaled

Fingers sunken in skies forbidden

Kept her  eyes hidden until pouncing

Silhouettes dancing on tunes so enticing

And

Raking reflections of a bloody sunset

Corset of darkness aching for answers

Pulsing integrity from sage beyond age

With my arm laying softly on her thigh

And for a change

Not obsessing over why.

Paused thinking to hear my heart singing

As we met,

Only afterward it slowly started to sink in

What I’ve said.

Undressing my raw lust

While I saw the settling dust

I was embraced by the ominous

Luminous perceptions shattered

With mad hatter perspiration

My soul soaked in humiliation

That Satyr IX outplayed me

Roles reversed in desperation

Introspection then took action

In reaction, soaking became drowning

My own cracked skull into the sea

Of what is and what could be.

[thehollowsparrow]

Redemption.

There once was a story beginning as follows,

"Success is destined for the one who swallows

The surroundings by mind and emotions by smile

Translating to the tribe making sure that while

Adoration and hatred are fueled by one source

Education about both may favor the lesser worst."

What the story failed to set as a reminder,

For us all,

Is that only together we can form a whole.

[thehollowsparrow]

A Dive in Time.

Aquatic kisses ebb and flow over thirsty earthen cheeks,

Stretching across long days of gloomy colored weeks.

But when his sun-dried smirks and buoyant quirks,

Met her blue eyes looking towards lost delphic works.

Fire and water played with each other, while,

Earth and air exchanged taunting glares.

The sun beckoned the moon, saying it'll be over soon,

And while everything unfolds, he chose her hand to hold.

I want to have all my days sold (him) - I am 1000 years old,

she said as his cloudy eyes shut, fearing the upcoming scold.

So he carefully selected which information to withhold,

potting the seeds of doubt, beguilement, and repudiation,

that later turned the soil rotten with blight, mold, and infestation.

The seeds unwind in a wild line entwining the times time eluded the mind,

behind the rind of bones aligned only to find this timeless concept of love,

that until this day remains undefined.

But this was not love, you lumbering oaf,

She howled beneath a steady stream of molten tears,

As this adamantly dense clod managed to achieve all her fears.

Clock barely flinched, her eyes hid with a squinch,

As she gasped for air she motioned that this is the last this they will share,

And as she turned, she heard how she was his light shining ever so bright

Therefore she wished he'd swallow the stars and choke on the night. 

[thehollowsparrow]

Poles Apart.

Through blizzard shards and glitter rain,

She wallows forth like the lion's mane,

Holding my photo while dripping ink,

Swirls a colorless whirlpool in the sink.

You splatter around and reek of musk

A paper boat floating before dusk

That held you aloft from gushing waves

Of liquid sun rays and summer days.

So sip this breeze in hearty gulps,

Before too long, we'll turn to dust,

And be carried by the wind over tall peaks,

Where shadows speak and monsters sleep.

In their twisted crib, long tendrils sway,

Makes nerves clench tight, this lack of light,

Darkened my sight, so I chose to stay.

[thehollowsparrow]

Death, II.

She tempered her burning heart

With icy glacier water and the

Result was a perfect arrowhead.

[thehollowsparrow]

Death, I.

She tasted sorrow, medicine, and lips,

Yet only one was administered in sips.

Her craft was as lethal as poetically tartly,

Golden arrowheads dipped in mamba venom,

She smooched the fletching ever so slightly,

To craft death' smooch with a touch of sour lemon.

[thehollowsparrow]

A Tree with Days as Leaves.

Some days, I wish I was left bleeding

Yet everything I managed to spill

Is salt water onto shallow puddles

On my uncomfortable, lone pillow.

Some days, I await the molten sunset

To lead this blazing light astray

And allow the darkness to unfold

So that I could inhale the damp cold.

Some days, my chains are overwhelming

Me with the weight of all the raindrops

From dying clouds that formed a sea

In which I'm drifting and drowning.

But every single day, scenarios in my mind

Depicting shards of you, stuck on rewind

In monochrome, never failing to remind

Me of the colorful tones I foolishly left behind.

Every single day, my little flame grows colder

Encumbered by charcoal ashes left to smolder

In my memory, your precious words grow older

Those three words, never have been stronger.

“I miss you.”

[thehollowsparrow]

Postcards (from not that far away).

Whenever I'm writing, deep in thought,

It feels like sending scribbled postcards

From an ideal place that you once sought.

[thehollowsparrow]

Astral Plane.

Upon your wicked hairline,

Sunbeams linger, stealing your hues,

Chestnut locks with golden highlights,

A catalyst for midnight blues.

Only daylight gives you justice,

For you were meant to shine, to gleam,

In heavenly spotlights, radiating,

Attributing you a dreamlike theme.

The molten gold, that your heart pumps,

Fills your fingertips, just like a brush,

You raised your hand and raked the sky,

And in the night, the stars gushed.

[thehollowsparrow]

A Book Called: Human.

A dreadful silence in our words, yet

Bellowing howls in your worlds,

Captivating, as you all deem it

Despite not being able to dream it

Equality in thought and action

Forgoes mutual satisfaction.

Granted we took gratitude,

Hoarding our way to solitude.

Inside our lair lie many masks.

Joker and king, hiding our tusks

Kindness within succumbed to sin,

Loving for reason is prone for treason.

Midnight, for some, it sheds light - yet

None it would seem, practice daydream.

One will succeed making your soul bleed,

Poems and songs will pour to fill holes,

Quiet and sole, dying to feel whole,

Reluctant to smile, it will be a while.

Suddenly flames will engulf you again,

Truths will unravel from shallow gravel.

Until old age, you don't have to be sage,

Vouch for the good, just like you should.

When the time comes and everything sums,

eXperiences will weigh more than birthdays.

You simply have to breathe in order to live, with the

Zeal that you will cherish, you will never perish.

[thehollowsparrow]

The Grove.

The swarm of fireflies was like a hazy bokeh to us both,

Swaying leaves in the wind waved at those shy critters,

In the rhythm of the fire that was soothing our jitters,

Our hands were joined in the light of a divine truth.

The night lay upon us, delicate like a descending feather,

Yet we kept staring at the pyre, raptured by the glow,

Today, we ran away for good, with no remorse to show,

Inside a secluded grove where we could be together.

[thehollowsparrow]

Goodbye.

With pursed lips, she stood there, undeniably reserved,

As I was catching a gulp of breath after my speech,

In a dour silence, our gazes met briefly and I observed,

The light, or lack of it that made our bond unstitched.

I wanted to ask her, yet I feared that she'll reply,

Cowering in old memories, my mind had wandered far,

Into the realm of possibilities, where I lighted a cigar,

Puffed and passed and we both held our head up high.

She knew 'twas not the case and precisely how to show,

The aversion, the animosity that mirrored her stand.

In a sullen state, I pondered and deeply longed for snow,

To cover the fields of ivy in which I was heading to land.

[thehollowsparrow]

The Cold.

In the beginning, it felt cold to my touch,

Ghastly, as if a lifeless corpse reached on to me.

Terrified, I froze there, pondering on my escape,

From this monochromatic nightmare of a cape,

A desolate containment at the mercy of the sea,

Is where my flesh shall rot, I thought as much.

The cold, it spoke to me deeper than the confinement,

Not even the rolled steel bars seem that absurd,

Or the continuously dripping water from the ceiling,

But the creeping, debilitating numbness that I was feeling.

Gradually, my once vibrant sight became blurred,

And my warmth was sapped as a result of this alignment.

The seagulls sang their share, as I laid broken on the floor,

You never believe until it's there, knocking at your door,

And I recall now, exiled in the damp cold with memories faded,

How she told me, over and over, and I refused to be persuaded.

So I closed my eyes and concurred, long ago, my fate was sealed,

A time-worn ruin of a man, without his sword, without his shield.

[thehollowsparrow]

Madness.

Seagulls chanting in their flight,

And,

My inner kindle blazing bright,

Or,

Purging sparks over my canvas,

As if,

Lurid tones swirled into madness,

Yet,

I hear only silence tonight.