Pisaries Creator wrote two new poems and more to come later. The last time I really was into writing poems was over twenty years ago. Time does fly, yes, it sure does.
The face in the mirror looked at me.
Hadn’t seen this face for a long time, but here it was to haunt me.
Couldn’t tell if it was mine or that of the monster.
I hadn’t seen the monster for a while either.
He held my attention even when its features became blurry.
No longer could I spot where the sides of the face ended.
The flesh seemed to melt away or maybe it disappeared behind the steam.
I wasn’t ready for it to leave quite yet.
But I knew it was not mine to claim.
I had tried to discard this face a long time ago.
It was the right choice to make, and yet the dark eye was visible to me.
It had restricted me at certain times.
I was too impressionable back then.
The small changes within myself were purposely forgotten.
My proof of turning a new leaf was an invention of mine.
I had turned into an ugly liar, and it felt crummy.
I was not a good person as much as believed otherwise.
My insides never caught up with my outer appearance.
The face in the mirror was despicable.
The monster that scared me was wicked.
There was a time I saw my innocent face, but I knew deep down it was cracked.
It didn’t matter what I desired.
None of it would come true.
The face in the mirror continued looking at me.
Couldn’t tell who it was, but only that it was searching for something more.
The music between us was loud and boisterous, as if it shouted from the speakers,
PAY ATTENTION TO ME! DANCE TO ME!
There was no one in that room not moving that night.
If you weren’t dancing, someone would have grabbed your hand and dragged you onto the floor.
All of the movement made my head dizzy. The price you pay for fashion.
My headband somehow managed its way into the dryer.
The things people hold onto even when they are too tight.
I never wanted to go back to the old way of doing things.
That night was so close to perfection.
I haven’t been able to get that back.
I’ve tried, but I never rolled snake eyes.
I felt so safe around him.
Even if we weren’t in the same room, things were easier for me.
The way his wavy hair cascaded past his shoulders.
Some of my friends told me men shouldn’t have long hair, but I didn’t care.
All I knew that he was mine.
I wanted to lose a part of myself to him that night, and he did not disappoint.
The way he touched my face when the beat slowed a bit.
His hands were smooth, and his breath was a mixture of coffee and cigarettes.
I didn’t care about the stink when I kissed him that night.
This was how our relationship developed.
He allowed me to release all the worries as I boogied on the dance floor.
He had such a carefree attitude.
I felt free for the first time in my life.
This freedom lasted throughout the night each time I grabbed his hand as he twirled me around.
We only existed to each other. He mouthed something to me.
I made out a few words.
LOVE… FOREVER… DANCING.
The music remained the same when he drifted away from me.
He was no longer close by my side.
Something BOOMED! Something BANGED!
He still made me believe in things. His advice mattered. He kept my heart intact.
We experienced from the same place.
This was an important time in my life.
There were no limits.
It was worth it when we reached our finale.
Hello, My Old Friends
It was a relatively easy process of digging out my mediocre poetry from high school and early college years. This is what you get from Pisaries Creator when she was in a different place, but still as creative as ever because that has never left her side and never will.
they say we don’t belong here. they claim to know. they think they know. they presume to know us. us, a people scattered all over. they don’t know. the only people that know is ourselves. we have walked this planet many times. our influence has made existence continue. our power has made the earth open up. our sacrifice has not been forgotten. simply we will not go away. our blood will continue to thrive. the last day of existence, we will be here. this is our land. we were here first. we are the chosen people. we took it upon ourselves to uphold the law. everyone else turned their backs. step to the plate, we did. embraced the laws of the land, we followed. all of this makes us strong. we continue to be present. this is our land.
One by one
Two by seven
I still remain
This is my ghost
You exist in my dreams
A savior from hell
Not seen by others
You come to take me away
My beating heart
Not quite the same
Moving on after you left
Your face is still real
Imprinted on my brain
Cycling over and over
You have not visited me lately
This fantasy has turned into misery
I do not feel safe
Only harsh echoes from afar
This is not fair
I did not ask for this punishment
You do not love me anymore
This replacement is not good enough
I have become too scary for you
Now I have become the ghost to you
I hate you when you intrude upon my sleep. My mind swirls around your shadow. How you bring me down by telling me lies. And make up for it by giving me sweet kisses. You are the force that tempts me into hell. My body wants to move beyond you. But I am still spinning around your shadow. You are plucking at my heartstrings. Must I be your fancy guitar.
Tribute to my Journals
To the empty pages before me,
I apologize for poisoning your whiteness
With my blood and sweat,
With my sorrow and fears,
With my crying, hurt, and anger.
Please do not be upset with me
When I fill your whiteness with my words.
You save me from future insanity,
The only one non-judgmental of my actions and thoughts,
Giving me so much in return when I ask of nothing.
If it weren’t for you, no one would truly listen,
And the gift you have of responding is impeccable,
Which teaches me how to live to the fullest.
You have done something for me.
I cannot ever repay.
You must look beyond this page.
Go past the words.
Go through the words,
Go into the words.
Let it penetrate your heart.
Let it infect your veins.
Swallow the meaning like food.
Use the energy to move forward.
Pump your body with its exhilaration.
Take it in completely and honestly.
Know it intimately.
Don’t over think.
The mind is not yours.
It cannot be controlled.
It cannot be kept.
It belongs to someone else.
With an arched back, I saw him whip the cowboy around with all his might.
This muscular creature was not going to give up even if it meant death.
The crowd was cheering the cowboy to stay with the brute.
The cowboy was giving his all for the audience.
He wanted the spectators to have their money’s worth, and they got it.
After a few minutes of this power struggle, I saw the bull losing ground.
His body wasn’t bucking as forcefully in the beginning.
I thought to myself, this beast is faltering.
The crowd was not on his side.
They wanted to see a fight, but got much more.
This was not a game for the cowboy, but a particular war of survival.
His eyes were like blades cutting thick barbed wire.
Audience members had to know the end was near.
I saw blood oozing onto the ground.
A large puddle of blood had onlookers gasping.
They could not tell if it was coming from the bull or the cowboy.
The continued fight had me standing with great anticipation.
My heart was pumping hard.
In between my heavy breaths, I knew in my heart one was near death.
The cowboy’s hat was on the ground, and the bull was visibly bleeding.
As quick as a blink of an eye, the performance was over.
Blood squirted out of the cowboy’s mouth as he fell down.
He lay there crumpled like a useless piece of paper.
A hole the size of a horn was gouged into his stomach.
The audience members would have to figure it out themselves.
They did not know what I knew before the battle even started.