Making the Poem Cry...

I can't see it coming down my eyes so I gotta make lacrimals well up within the pointed ball of my pen.


Refusing saltine filled secretions climb down cheeks


I feel the disease of triste

Have drips from self inflicted puncture wounds blend with the margins in my sheets.


Refusing to leak physically but literally infusing the aching drops into scraps of recycled murdered trees

A lump in my esophagus transposed through phalanges as my pacemaker ticks the sounds of echoing defeat



Love connotations hath no glory upon which dismay leaves its imprint



Becoming a being other than thyself




Wolven form howling at the night as to release what I refuse to portray...sin filling the greens of my soul's windows followed by a bluish gray...as color leaves my self portrait reflected in the mirror.


I refuse to let it come down my eyes so I thrust and slash into electronic notes like a madwoman who's lost her mental nodes

Running from the acceptance of loss. Shattering bravado, shards of the statue, lay in the dark

Allowing walls to critique...consuming me...the darkness chose me...as forever displays itself upon the disappearing stars gas filled earth disappears into an unclaimed universe

Your letting go hurts...bitter-sweetness of retaliation dressed in Sheep's clothing


I remain clothed as the emperor was...bare of anything other than

I can't see it coming down my eyes but I decided to make this scripture screech...ink spilling its excess...as the poem cries for me.


Conveniently in denial of emotional distress stabbing drops upon verbatim as this noun get rejected into periods. Ellipses replacing representations of what is forcing a grimace of physical reality...quoting sad songs to express my truth

As I can't see it coming down my eyes will I remain Lyrically suffering for you...

©DISorientedDIVA 2013

Making you....Immortal

I want to...

 M

A

K

E

Y O U

 immortal in order to never feel as if I was forgetting you....
As I can continue to relive through stored data in my cerebrum
Releasing endorphins as I travel through times of 

hands held, 

songs danced, and 

stories told
Poetry placed into fingertips and art came to life.
They say I have a voice of a poet sorta like you did and...

 that side smile
I reenact through wrinkles in time 

laughter  and uncomfortable coming of age conversations
I replay angry discussions 

as we were too much alike to get along
...hot tempered, short fuse and too much pride...getting in the way of growth.
But at the end of the day, we'd cool off sit together read and hear music together
Hang out and hold hands
as I always remained in the shadow of my colossus
Going back to rewind Aesop's Fables and Anansi  and cultural tales of history so that I would be wise and knowledgeable of my culture
Retracing childhood 

and 

pre-teen years 

in order to grasp unto every step 

taken 

beside you
In order to never have a blurry thought 

and 

keep it machete sharp...
Refusing to replace the terabytes of my neurons with unimportant figures.
Tattooing you into the depths of my spirit.
As I carve you into  existence 

to keep you alive in memo graphic essence.

I want to...

 M

A

K

E

Y O U

 immortal in order to never feel as if I was forgetting you....

 

...in order to never feel 

as if I am 

running out of ink ...
slowly forgetting how to transcribe you....into immortality
...Papi...

08.15.55-01.02.05

 ©DISorientedDIVA 2013