Aftertaste

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Aftertaste

~

There is something left in broken fragments

on the tongue within the sweetness a sour taste

lingering amid residual flavors-

A puzzle’s piece lost in the shuffling and haste

of drunken early mornings and late nights

when gulping every bit like sweetest wine.

But how thirsty I remained after all

was consumed, waking up all alone

from a fuddled life as I stumble and fall,

and then shattered I’m left with the aftertaste

of the broken fragments-

H.O

My Eyes

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My Eyes

~

“They are sad”- my mother said about my eyes

then kissed them both with tender care

and told me “life is never sadness”

but later found that in her kindness

she failed to see how through my years

from all the pain could not be spared.

~

“They are naughty” – my lover said about my eyes

and kissed them both lost in desire

then told me “life is full of pleasure

with every moment to hold and treasure”

 cradling my body between her thighs

my lover taught me about lust and fire.

~

“They are fierce” – my friend said about my eyes

and touched them softly with great affection

then told me “life is there for taking

if you are a winner into the making”

but later found that makes no sense

when life is nothing without direction.

~

“They are old” – I told myself about my eyes

the mirror spoke of passing times

my mother’s words of love and sadness

a distant memory lost in the madness

of every day, and all I see with these old eyes

are long gone dreams within the rhymes-

H.O

Late

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Late

~

Such fear that I’m late-

I woke up too late from a long spun dream

on butterfly wings that later flew away

and I fear I’m late.

Life just passed me by and never said goodbye

so I never knew I would wake up late

‘til I heard the flap when the wings collapsed

on my butterfly, and my dreams just died,

as I woke up late-

H.O

“Don’t you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you’re not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you’ve lived nearly half the time you have to live already?”

― Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

To Dream

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To Dream

~

To dream, I forget to dream

and life catches up with a brief reflection

of a stranger’s face

on a window pane at the corner store.

Sadness keeps no more

but hard to retrace

a diverging road lost without direction

while I simply live, and forget to dream.

H.O

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
Lao Tzu

Winter

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Winter

(new edit)

~

What is this world we created?

Born out of shadows and pain it grows

every word planted in a fruitless garden

where seeds wither and harden

and bear no witness to our design.

Fall turns to winter in emotions confined

to the coldness of a feeling that froze

in a couple of verses with no ending found

to a story abandoned as new seeds find

its way in a new spring full of dreams.

But to every winter we are bound

playing in summer with new schemes

not meant to last, for every verse dictated

comes to exist as a reminder of what seems

a life destined to the winter we created.

H.O

― “Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don’t have the strength to fight it.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Cost of Dreaming

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Cost of Dreaming

~

You are best wrapped in pain and sadness

feeding the wolves of solace-

Liquefied comfort satisfy your madness

and self-imposed alienation

for a moment, pouring emotions

into a half-empty glass.

But there is no other way to this impasse

thus bittersweet damnation.

Another night lost in stagnation

loving fiercely what you had before

and lost,

when impervious to the cost

you wrap yourself in pain and sadness-

H.O

Harvest

harvest

Harvest

~

In autumn nights a chilling air now brings

a lacking left in summer heat,

the soothing waves that once caressed

my lonely skin became my lover,

the roaring sea that gave me wings

and made me dream of distant places

another time to rediscover-

And dreams alone will warm my bed

in colder nights that lay ahead

a life which time erases,

with kisses gone among the waves

in autumn nights I count the graves

while holding on to faces-

H.O