Poem: Every song is a cliché

It’s the softest of touches, the things that just come to you without reason.
It’s the looks that we give each other in the dark, it’s the whispers
its either the precipice or the downfall of things, but does it matter?
its haikus in other languages, an overwhelming obsession with laughter
no explanations, or not too much thought, opting instead
To be swept along by the voices of far away promises, stupid jokes,
a comfortable proximity, an internal chuckle...

Now there are these fleeting moments, where all I can think about is how hungrily he touched my body, how greedily he bit my skin, how it set my pulse on fire;
All I can think about is breathing.
How breath became the language in which we spoke, in which we begged.
The warmth of that breath on my neck, below my ear, that’s all I can think about.

And now it follows me around, it lives in my head, and inside every photo
Every song is a clichéd memory of some sweet moment that’s been shared by a million lovers, a million times, in a million places, each with different smiles.
This one, however, is a reminder of mine.

This is What I Look Like Naked

We are here to put fear in each other’s hearts,
to keep us from fulfilling our own wildest dreams
under the pretense of keeping each other grounded.
I’m guilty of the same. I know the game, I’ve paid so many dues,
still, I am bound to it closely, my faithful lover.
Yet, I want to throttle it cruelly,
Bash it sharply against a hard surface and watch the blood come spilling
from between its lips. It spits out fragments of teeth and I chuckle,
Punch it again, harder, grind my knuckles against that beautiful smile.
I will leave it clutching at my ankles, gasping,
but I will still throw around doing-words without performing their actions
without really considering what happens when it comes back to me.
Love is a doing word, so is good-bye.

My breath is weak. I can barely feel myself shaking in this cold, but I know
I’m here because I recognize the eyes of the zombie in the mirror.
She smiles at me, that bitch, because she knows that she knows better.
She knows I know it too.
I’m wondering who put this fear here in me. I blame you, I blame him,
but in the end I blame myself.
For being open and vulnerable to attacks aimed at the chest.
It was faulty construction from the beginning. It was always,
just waiting for the boom.

words by mgapany
c. 2009

Poem: Oh Yes by Charles Bukowski

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.

Poem: Days Like These

I smile when we meet, laugh when we talk
but when I put it all behind me
I turn to see I'm still alone.
I pretend like this momentary lapse isnt real,
Like there is something waiting for me in the dark.

A part of me left with you
A part that you helped create,
I still havent decided
If its a part I can live without.

Days seem to pass faster,
I am aware that distance is playing its part,
and its slowly getting easier,
still the sound of that voice,
tears, and heals all at once.
I am lost for you, and losing myself in the mean.

I do not know how to explain the thoughts,
I know only to let them take over.
I fill my empty moments with distractions
and tell my self its all the same.

I am not dying, Im not even crying anymore,
but I feel different, careless.
I am no longer trying to make sense of this
I longer care if we turn out okay,
As long as I do.

-MGapany

Poem: Hum

Hum

It tells me I will have to die, for just a minute,
To continue on living the way I do.
The way I want to.
It knows I keep it secret,
And it teases me with the laughter of children
Running circles around their mothers.
Those perfect happy families.

This decision is harder than it seems,
And it bothers us both more than we can say
To one another out in the open, it hides in our eyes.
But when we kiss, when you hold my hand
And tell me you love me, tell me it will be all right,
We both feel the presence of our creation.
The hum of it is deafening,
Speaking silently from within me.
My unknown secret, unthinking, a life in my hands.

Leaning against the cold tiles in the bathroom
Lights off, in the dead of night,
Head spinning in the silence
I move my hands from my head to my belly
And try to ease my hectic mind.
This is my continuing internal battle.
I can’t seem to find the middle ground
Between relief and regret.
Convinced I can hear a heartbeat
That does not yet exist.

Hoping desperately that some calm voice
Will save me from these screaming fears,
From the deep silence of the night.
A hand to wipe my tears from my face and
Give me strength to make me follow through with my choice.
Even if it’s only in the temporary safety of that moment,
Bring me peace.

I’m hoping I don’t break, don’t falter,
Hoping I don’t keep my eyes open when I try to sleep,
To shut the hum out when I feel guilty,
To keep from dreaming once it’s over,
To not wake screaming in the night.

© Melo ‘05

Poem: The Child and I

You and I are standing here
on the brink of all this emptiness.
You reach for my hand,
staring blank eyed, and expressionless into space
you ask me how I love so much
I tell you it is for the sinners
it is for those who just don’t know
the love can cure all the guilt they’ve created
I tell you I love because they don’t
because they wont
you look at me now and with those eyes
so big and wanting and itching for
the kind of knowledge a book cant give
you ask me how I give so much
I tell you its for the selfish
its for those who don’t know anything but taking
so I have to give for them
to keep a sort of proper balance amongst things
and because there’s just so much I can offer
and with that you smile
and I can tell you are amused by this
as much by my answers as by your questions
and you will continue to try to stump me
you tell me when I hate its with such passion
I tell you when I love it is the same
because without passion there is no conviction
and if Im going to test the waters
I might as well just dive right in
-but why are you so grounded
-because the birds have flight
because there are all those people
with heads so light they just don’t know
I keep mine too heavy to hold
because then I can compensate failure with thought
-and why are you so free?
-because its my only right
because I can only enjoy the sunlight
and the rain if I am free enough to love them
for the simplicity of their splendor
and not be prone to thinking it is too hot or too wet
-and how are you always so right?
-im not, we just think along the same lines
and Im just a little better at voicing the things you think
and compared to the all the wrong in the world
what I say just seems correct
but it has always been there to be spoken on
I just picked up the conversation where perception left off
-and how are you so beautiful?
I am only as beautiful as you want me to be
to some I am a threat
I’m the monster under their bed
I’m that nightmare you just cant wake up from
-but you are not
-not to you

Poem: why its me. why its you...

You, who takes me by the hand,
take my breath as well.
you, who makes humble my words
make feeble my actions
you, who I cannot understand
but love undeniably.
you, who haunts me,
flawless as you are,
simple and beautiful and
never around to hear me say it.
me, I say it then to the wind,
confess to tides that I love.
you, who is so amazing
I cannot express,
wrap around me in that kind of splendor
wrap me in a fever I cannot undress,
I cannot accept
one I cant control.
me, I take to crying
and you, in my mind which works endlessly,
take to the sky.
and me, as it sit here
baffled, thankful
can be nothing more than simple,
do nothing more than admire.
and me, walking, I
throw confessions into the wind
and hope that you, loving me as you do
do the same.
and wind, my faithful listener
you, who puts up with my rantings,
take my words with consideration
and do not lose a single one
or dilute a single emotion
for it is all real,
but I, a weak person
cannot admit that
as I would like to.

c. 2003
M.Gapany

Poem: Haiku

Take Your Breath Away

by Chris D Lavigne

I would kiss your lips
to take in your breath and speak
What is inside you

03/10/2003

Poem: Let Me Not Say I Love You

by Beth Hammontree

Let me not say I love you,
Although you know that it is true.
That phrase has been so much abused,
Misunderstood and over-used.

Let me say rather "I think you,
Breathe you, taste you, feel you, dream you,"
That you help make each day complete,
And life has never been so sweet.

....

made me think of you.
you know who you are.