Confessional poetry, not the box.

(#52) Moving Out

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Tue, 24 May 2011 12:54:00 +0000

I got the repairman to replace
The broken glass floor,
It didn't seem like a bad job indeed.
I told him to lay some tiles over it,
So I wouldn't be able to see the
Bare cement, dust, foundation-

It makes me happy forgetting things.

I got the painters to help me coat
The cracked walls with fresh paint.
I chose blue, my favourite colour-
The old blue had faded and peeled
Off the walls, out of the house.

I asked the plumber to help me fix
The pipes that brought the water,
They kept leaking, never stopping,
When you decided to move out.

It wasn't enough, though, I just
Felt unsatisfied about it all.
So I put up an advertisement;
To sell the house, I did not want it anymore.
I wanted to leave it.

I asked a few people if they wanted,
To buy the house off me.
Many said no, apparently
Everyone knew what had
Happened in the house.
The house had my name on it.

I decided to leave the house anyway,
It makes me happy forgetting things.

I asked the movers to help me move
All my furniture out of the place.
They replied, "it's too heavy, sir,
Your burdens, sir. They can't be
Moved sir." I chuckled, "I forgot."
I smiled.

It makes me happy forgetting things.

And it does make me happy forgetting things indeed.
Welcome, I'm back for a visit.

(#51) Swell

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Tue, 24 May 2011 12:47:00 +0000

Dry, sore, craving;

The playground floor wet,
The air fresh-cold and intimate.
The hearts race quickly for
We have control, but not of ourselves
For now, the swift strides of
Hands, lips melt into our minds,
Stealing rationality- we deposit
Emotions like fluid.

The slim shape of love, stoked
In my heart's hearth, tender-
Your body pressed deep, you
Stimulate my soul, I want;
No, I need you. Those words
I wish to say, but I must hold back

For I want you to finish first,
This is no race, there's no rushing,
Not while the world has stopped moving
While we let time slip away,
And clothes.

Wet, warm, insatiable.

(#50) Boire De L'amour

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Tue, 24 May 2011 12:45:00 +0000

Sweet love oh sweet drunk
The drink I cling to
Petty waves of poison beneath;
Rose essence for the bitters
Ice to keep it cool and
Hide the taste-
Those words burn and intoxicate with
A clouding vapour that numbs the mind;
Slice a lemon, we'll hide it all with contrasting zest.

(#49) Blue

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 16:54:00 +0000

With every wave crashing onto textured sand,
A cast iron chain breaks links-
The ebb and flow pulls and detaches

Prison walls of stone and
Problems within them, erode,
Nature tears and shreds them apart.

Let every peak break the cold grey rocks
Every accompanying trough recede with
A spray of foam, and tranquility in its retreat.

The cycle is medicinal, every crash and sweep
Of the roaring waves a pair of wings-
They will patch emotions with needle and thread,

Lift and exfiltrate all that is torn and dead inside, fly
Swift fingers, to mend the listener's disparity,
The handiwork of the evening shore,

A purple sunset calls to the retiring tide to relax.
As my mind wanders far away, a dimension,
Where ease of heart is due, butter

The wounds within the body with peace-
And slumber will swallow the sea.

Written at the moment,
a spontaneous composition without halting to think.
Inspired by my stressed heart
and the sound of water in the night.

(#48) None Are Birds

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 11:44:00 +0000

There, this is the world:

Beside you are the cows, the buffalo,
Toiling hard, do they know?
The occasional bull, trudging.
A slaughter house, the end point,
The pigs, those naive sybarites,
The horses running around,
Aimlessly, do they know?
Unblemished sheep, their white wool
Stolen, no questions, no resistance.
The loyal sheep dog, constructing borders,
Creating friction for the workspace.
So much unnecessary order, does it know?
A daily cycle, routine slog.
All prayers for the farmer,
Does he even care?

There, this is the world.
None are birds.

(#47) The Classroom

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 05:40:00 +0000

Slam, the door shuts, out erupts
A class of noise, an audacious sound.
The gibberish and murmuring fills,
Increasing in volume, light chuckles
Decorating the shouts and echoes.

Mental walls, fortified by the train of
Careless, mindless teenage conversations-
My attention to work notes makes me a stranger
To the prattle and gossip of skivers, who's
Pens twirl unproductively between skillful fingers.

The chirping of relaxed youths, shirking the
Task at hand, their voices like balloons
Rising into the ceiling above, but nonetheless,
Every word said is marked by a practiced,
Watchful eye for the return of Teacher.

A sharp click of the door-handle
An angled turn, a swift swing that displaces the
Whooshing wind that whispers into the abrupt quiet-
A library swallows up the market place.
Tiny voices conclude their exchange and fade out.

Ack-ack! Coughing, clearing throats, a
Shuffle of papers replace the void silence.
The teacher places a stack of warm
Fresh copied sheets on the rectangle,
Large, special desk for one.

Here's where it all restarts, now emerges-
Diligent writing, focused discussions,
Quirky comments, intelligent humour-
The cycle repeats at every opportune moment,
Every second of it becomes a memory we keep,

And reminisce at graduation.

(#46) Trauma Response From The Restricted Past

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 18:40:00 +0000

Flash tundra, emerge, my knees buckle,
Losing balance, my heart's veins tangle up,
The mind trips over the frost covered plains
The gravity within is no longer stable.

The ground shakes violently,
The snow cuts deep into the skin
The vertebrate is stung by frostbites-
Cripples the entire structure of the

Host, those words are kryptonite
They are poison, they are glass shards
They are the ones that swallow colour
From the world, they are tormenting

The ground I walk are laden with trip mines,
My curious mind will take my feet to the
Kill, my eyes did not scan the ground, not until
I heard the wire tug, the pin's chime, the clicks.

If only the shards and blast were fatal-
They are not, they penetrate deep within the heart,
And mind, and with every beat, it slices me alive-
Flesh like chilled meat strips at the butchers'.

I cannot see it any more, the emergency bell
Sounds an alarm through the night
That no one will hear, for the
Entire dimension has frozen over.

Amongst the crystals and snow,
The fear, the black and the grey,
Stands I who cries out into the bitter gale,
"I loved you so much, I smiled as you murdered me."

(#45) The End In Mind

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 11:42:00 +0000

There is this narrow path
On a large sheet of white paper.
The paper has an unknown dimension.
Drawings will appear on it.

Seventeen strokes for time
The path winds about the problems-
Eighteen walls, every mason builds
Two each, hard sand and stone, just to

Injure me when I pass between them.
One traveler, hundreds of exchanges
Two with the black market, the devil
Three with the friend's friend,

Both of which never I understood-
Though one clearly was intimidating
And the other, completely undirected.
My pockets are spent empty and in my collection,

All that is unsatisfactory. In fact,
Nobody knows why the paper exists
Nor who holds the pen sketching aimlessly on it.
We will just keep walking, drifting,

Creating thoughts to justify
The reasons for the useless journey,
Trying to use determinism as an excuse to
Scribble your name all over the floor you walk-

Like an analgesic, in hope that people will know the
Letters to carve on the tombstone when
You, the departed unknown individual
Perish from the inevitable disease of death.

I refuse to veil the truth
That we exist to expire.

(#44) Desperation

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Solemn chambers of
Procrastination, over-confidence
Seeping from every pore on your skin
The sands of time tip the scales of possibility.

This cannot breed-
The virus, when unchecked gradually
Leads the host to retardation, and
When goals close in, the soul

Remains unprepared,
Panic overtakes the mind, a brooding
Concoction of frustration, stress and confusion.
That demon will make you drink it.

The days past were let slip,
The jail guard with no vigilance nor
Discipline, the hours escaped free
From the bars of relaxed fingers and the body.

No more, no more will the rain clouds
Drench my clothes further-
They are already soaked through, regretful.
I can pray for the lightning to strike me hard

To teach me a lesson,
I could run hard for the week ahead
And catch the falling pieces of hope
To render some form of salvation for myself.

(#43) A Farm Day

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 14:35:00 +0000

The first burst of light emerges over the
Horizon of the yellow burning sun.
The day breaks, the mist lifts from
The sweet smelling grass down the hill-
Pulling the cosy dew blanket off every sunrise.

The square gold patchwork, like gold-leaf
Stands out brightly on the quilt of Mother's garden
The cleared out land burns a rust shade as the dust
Pulls west into the haystack with the white clouds overhead.
The cock on the wind vane swings with the changing drafts.

He will have a short breakfast, just barely enough-
For he needs to be out early in the sun
To take the cash cows to the fields,
To get his golden eggs from the coop,
To have his three bags full.

The boy will tend to the sheep and cows,
The dog maintains the order as he
Ponders in the meadows-
The days get colder and colder
Father must begin preparing hay.

The tractor's engine guns to a quiet by sunset,
The great orange hue floods over the
Windmill, roofs and dirt path. The cottage lights
Create shadows on the ground
As dinner is served, well earned.

By the strike of nine, the town gathers.
The animals rest in their stalls, fences latched.
The men play cards by the fire, they talk of harvest.
The women tell the children stories while sewing,
The youths, chasing skirts and charisma in the night.

Finally, as bed calls for night's tranquility,
At the faintly-red barn roof where the
Pale white moonlight feeds on the
Colours of the Earth from our eyes
The day is not over for one-

The watchful farmer with hunting gun,
Oil lamp, a vigil sentry, prowling about
Peering the night fog for wolf or crook-
He will not let his efforts go to waste, even
The scarecrow haunts his tired, suspicious mind.

For Joy, who wants this done so badly,
I hope your happiness surpasses my days of effort on this.

(#1) A Short Story

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 06:35:00 +0000

Life,
If I gave life a metaphor,
It wouldn't be a thick, thick book,
It wouldn't be fairytale nor fancy,
They just don't fit all the time, you know?
If I gave life a metaphor,
It would be a short, short story,
One bursting with energy
To the last period on the last page.

Why? Say, for example,
Little boy went to school,
Eyes brimming with the glance-at-everything
Curious stare.
Bright green shirt, dark blue shorts,
His mother sewed the baseball cap
The crown on his innocent head -
The only child in the family.
He was five, then,
Maybe six, in a few months time
And he had a knack for trying to reach for things
Especially those hard to reach.
Possibly a good sign,
The boy just wants to grow tall.
Like his father, or taller.

School was going fine, as always, to the boy
Who's always a few lessons ahead.
As revision ate away his breaktime,
He didn't mind, he loved his books.
Jumping grades would be no worry,
For the clever boy with a bright future ahead.
Mom was an Oxford graduate,
Dad owned the city's largest business,
The little boy's life was safe,
Secure.

Little boy saw a pretty blue bird,
On the fourth floor of Math class,
Perched on the window sill's edge
With a beauty so quiet and intimate.
Curiousity killed the cat,
He stood on a high stool and
Stretched out an arm out to reach for
His death.

The bird had flown out of arm's reach.
It would rather take another's life
To preserve its own, see.

As life spilled out
From beneath his little crown,
The cap turned a shade of ruby -
Just like the value of his life.
His pages flip faster,
The story reaching the end
Sooner than anyone would have wanted it to.
Sirens wailed,
Mother was crying on Dad's shoulder,
They rushed little boy to hospital.
On the first floor they found the body,
At the window sill they found an overturned chair,
Just four floors above the
Climax of his story.

When little boy lived, the pages burst with energy.
When little boy fell, he penned his life down.
To the last period on the last page[.]

After everything, looking back,
It's been such a journey, writing and experiencing life.

Here's the first poem I've ever written,
You decide how much my works have changed!

(#42) Beast, Husband, Man

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 07:03:00 +0000

I will cloak my heart to have a woman
Like you, just you, I prepared the lines to say.
I will fix my eyes on you alone, staring
To make you feel secure, as part of the plan.
I will mint my breath to make my
Promises sweet, then a kiss.
I will seduce you until you say yes
To marry the black figure of me.

I have bought us a house, as planned.
Within lies a bed, white linen,
All laid out, ready. That way my ejaculate
Will blend into the sheets, no one can tell
It was me, but your blood is red. Scrub at the
Coagulated stains made after the first few nights if you
Should so wish to. It was your body's discharge after all,
It is your responsibility. But I will not say that to you,

It is for myself alone to know. That was part of the plan.
I will carry you home in my arms and whisper
Meaningless phrases that you will enjoy.
Welcome to our regal abode, love.
It is my lair, my abattoir. Our abattoir-
I bear my prized hunt on a piggy-back ride about the place
Before embracing, and she would not know just
How eager I desire pleasure from this naive victim.

When you lay yourself on the altar naked, I will
Bring the sacrificial weapon, it will take a part of you.
You sharpen the knife with your fingers, so innocently
It is a painful blade, it will draw blood and fluid, but you
Will act so pleased, because that was my plan
As I thrust the dagger repeatedly between your legs, you will
Scream, that is what I want to hear from you, as
The smell of iron from your bleeding canal fills the air.

I will sleep well, I have nothing to care about.
Adrenaline pumping through my veins drowns your
Silly voice, telling me how much you liked all of it. I am not
Interested to hear. You are only here to be
My night whore and day servant.
For the rest of our lives, till death do us part,
You will know me as Master, but you will
Call me your ridiculous sweet names.

All shall go as planned. From proposal lies
To everyday conversations. I have scripted them all.
My deception and desires run through my veins,
I am a hungry animal, we all are, but you will not know that.
Your father will be concerned about you but with my power,
He will send his unblemished lamb to slaughterhouse,
Have his daughter's body marred by fluids and hits alike.
Every one of your friends will see you walk down that aisle,
Jealous- They will not know that is the last of you they see.

Like fresh raw meat going down a factory belt,
Like a guiltless prisoner walking the rows to unfair trial,
You will walk to join my side and say "I do" so willingly.
The church bells will sound, the death knell it brings,
The exchange of rings, the passing of love's beauty-

This was all part of my plan, but you will not know that.
It is for myself alone to know.

(#41) Defiant Teenager, Ab Extra Speculatio

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 11:13:00 +0000

Call out the name with the
Handful of food and it will
Open its palm for you.
It will not struggle though
You thrash about, rip off
Flesh chunks from the
Provider's fingers, swallow it
Whole, they will let you
Have it, you do not realise
How privileged a life you have-

The two lambs slave themselves
For your existence, every single
Strand of hair on your body was
Bought with sweat, every minute
You walk the earth, they pay for
Your body with their bread-
The two could have been full at the table,
They even bought you shoes as you
Trample the garden flowers, play in the rain, bully,
They will forgive you nevertheless, child.

As you fling yourself onto
The busy road, without a care,
Remember, that body
You wear is not yours to abuse.
The blood you spend in self-mutilation
Was paid for with invaluable
Rubies and diamonds, I'd like to see you clear
Such a debt on your account-
The glass jar you encase your arrogant heart in
Was bought and made by the two souls you overlook.

Child, someday you will participate in
The cycle of parenthood. I will not be there
To watch you realise your parents' past plight
When your children enroll as the leading actors
To the play you wrote based on your childhood.
Learn, do not let pain be your eye-opener
When simple words can amount to the same effect.

(#40) The Coquette

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 17:13:00 +0000

Say you don't like anybody else,
Here's the book, swear by it.
Don't lie to me, you know it
Will shatter me inside.

You, insensitive, it makes little
Difference to me anymore, the
Words you say, they once used to toss
My feelings about in a salad bowl,

Or on a dark ocean, those days
Have long passed, gone-
For the truth of time has surfaced,
And I was right from the beginning.

Pull off the cloak, tell me everything
Real, sift out the lies from fact now, wait
Your voice, no, don't bother.
I would rather believe myself, you play

Strong, manipulative.
That's exactly what it is,
There's two, three of us here, I heed
Take your pick then, go excited-

They may like being a part of your garden
During your seasons of amorous harvest-
Count me out, I will no longer be
Part of your little pick-and-choose.

The nights call and scare me with thoughts,
They have bred a stronger body-
I will not let them down, watch me
Stand tall on the rock that tripped my heart.

(#39) A Reason To Live

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 14:24:00 +0000

For every tear in your skin,
You will heal it, you will
Patch up every injury
The world can possibly damage
You with, and a scar will remind you
Not to play the fool twice.

Like how the cat licks its
Wounds for hours, absorbed-
There is no shame for the pained
To spend more time mending
Our scratched limbs alone
When we fall down, stumble

On the street.
Every fight is your own fight,
Nobody should force you to
Take up their stances.
You have the right to say
"No." - Remember.

There is no issue in the brunt,
But only in the surrender.
Within you lies a diamond-
You will not see it in black, coal
Unless you take the pressure.
Never back down, be it where

The path crushes your bones
Or breaks your spirit, let it be.
Deal with every small step,
One, another, another-
The long distances will cover
Themselves in time, trust it.

Every tear you shed, every moment
You feel like breaking, that drop from
Your eyes, that which shines in the light
Is the product of your work. It will comfort
You, or be your celebration, for that diamond is
Your produce, you earned it.

For every tear in your eye,
You earned it, you will
Grow stronger, and through
The endless emotional path, you will find
Someone who will dab your tears, lessons, and
Narrate your account as you pen a history.

For Stephanie,
Here's a reason to stand back up after every fall.

Thanks for this request,
I hope it means something to you as much as it does to me.

(#38) Leave Me Alone

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 11:39:00 +0000

Stir the ghosts of past
I've woken them up
And they revisit, angry

Choked, I cannot breathe
Stubborn stain, get off me
It is not a blood smear

Spare me, you demons
I have had enough suffering
Loving you, then a dream

Your exit was murder
Your friend tortured my mind
It was all planned from the beginning

Selfish, a lesson learnt
Never to give your full heart
To an insatiable beast

It will only continue to
Suck every living memory
From your soul

My eyes only pupils
You have blinded my heart
I scream in your withdrawal

(#37) Leaving, Room #07-02

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 11:09:00 +0000

Waterfall, waterfall, memories
Smash it, break the brittle glass
Like an emergency, but neither emerging nor
Desperate, pass me the hammer now,
I want to see the shards fall myself.

Curses, every shard will be sharp
It will cut and scratch my face as I
Shatter the images, this ghastly
Haunting which I will not partake of
Ever again. Let the fragments

Pierce my skin, let it tear me up
I couldn't care less about it anymore,
I will see this hall of mirrors in pieces
Where I will no longer see myself in
Any corner of this room.

These gifts you have given me, let
Me put them to the fire, burn hot
Till it all becomes ashes, and blow it
All over the room, let it fall on the
Broken memories, I do not want it

Remembered, any longer.
All your faces, white like ghosts
Hiding behind the masks in which
You cheat from, your fringe always
Hid your deceiving eyes.

I will not go away quietly, I will
See this entire room turned into a mess.
Unrecognisable, I will make that happen,
I must tear down every single memory
For good riddance. My sand timer

Still pours like the dark red that chokes
My mind with fuel to my nightmares.
As the clock drains the life out of me
Your figures gradually fade to a blur but
The little pieces of silver glass that reflect

Draws a cold breath, I am the
Winter, nothing will survive the punishment
Of my frozen heart. I cannot give love to anyone
Else until I remove you from my temple.
Your candle will never light again-

I don't wish to light it either. A torch, you were,
What deceit, liar. You were nothing but a
Frosted glass candle, you never lit up,
I wish I saw through you-
Your flower blades, your fake jewelry,

Those sweet words were but poisoned daggers
In the clouds, you lined them with
Silver barbs, they looked so pretty
But lethal, I played the fool
To everything. You were cancer to my flesh.

All you ghosts, never will I set foot
In this hall ever again, let the dust clouds settle.
These mirror frames will lie empty, glass
Powder and ruins shall gash whoever dares
Make amendments to my closure.

Prepare the mop and rags, from now on
I will wipe up the blood on the streets
That coagulated from the holes in my
Left-side breast. These pale statues of
Remembrance will never bathe in my pain again.

(#36) Only You Know

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 20:34:00 +0000

Angel, I'll die to have you whisper the
Little things I want to hear, things only
You can say to capture me, hold me
Spellbound-breath, you enthrall me-
Secretly, as the poet keeps your name safe, he
Always wants you by his side, just in love.

Charm me, spin my feelings into a mess, my
Heart's in a disarray, I feel helpless around you.
Oh my dear girl, I miss you so much!
What must I do to have you?

For you,
The one who's name begins with A.

(Haiku #12) Me And Literature

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 20:03:00 +0000

watch me think at work,
pen stanzas, words sparkling like
kaleidoscope shapes.

written for the new haiku page:
Pen Flow, Paper Seeping,
http://cornpeasandcarrots.tumblr.com/

(#35) Lovesick Letter, Struggle.

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 16:11:00 +0000

It's so hard to think
With you around, dear
Girl, angel, I choke on my
Feelings, just so immense.

I can't do anything without your voice-
Help me swallow the thoughts of
You that suffocate me.

Throat-squeezed, pressed-heart,
I feel so sick deep inside me
And I cannot live without your
Smile, pout- So cute.
I don't want to play your

Game of tug-of-war any longer,
My emotions are tossed about so much
Yet I refuse to pull hard on the rope,
Throw you over the line to my side
Because I'm so afraid it'll hurt you.

I wish you'd be mine, I wish you'd drop the rope
And come over, be mine, I don't ask for more
Than just everything you are to me.

I'll purse my lips and clench my
Chest and endure this drowning
In patience, I'll wait for you to say
Yes. There is no script in love
And I always stumble for the right words
To say to you, my dear girl.

The only line I know for sure without
Memorising is "I love you, so much dear."
But I'll never dare say it until just
The day my name subtly etches itself on
Your delicate heart.

This boy just wants your body and heart
He'll do anything to have you
Smile, feel loved, be cared for.
His entire mind trembles and stirs-
I'll die, white, if your lips touch mine now.
Love, love, my murderer, my pill.

(Haiku #10) Eight o' Clock

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 20:50:00 +0000

spring morning, window view-
stone road, the old milkman,
the young paper boy

(#3) She

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 09:56:00 +0000

She,

Beneath a black-brown cascading waterfall,
Two stars burning preciously-
Taking in the light of the world and
Holding it sacred within her mind,
Every moment she doesn't blink.

Selfish, she is though, or shy?
Knowing how beautiful they are,
She hides them,
Keeps them for herself to admire,
No man has ever gazed into them.
No man, not me either.
But suitors guess:
Do they infatuate?
Do they charm?
Could they be so empowering,
They seal lips together?
Could they have the basilisk's gaze?
Who knows?

Only she who holds them safe,
The mystery that rests above her nose.

(I believe someday, I will find out.)

I wrote this a long long time ago,
for someone who meant a lot to me.
I guess i didn't find out anyway, in the end!

(#34) Dear Diary, 28th June

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 16:58:00 +0000

The healthy human mind does not
Doubt itself, nor question itself,
To the breaking point where the host
Would rather face the grave than
Watch the sun rise over the horizon again.

The passing showers have cracked my smiles
And I cannot last another day of
Rain, then sun, repeatedly-
My skin weathers away,
I feel sick.

A week. The bitter taste of
What should have been sweet,
If only he chose to spend his thoughts
On responsibilities, not separate demands.
It is now over, a week, a representation of a year
Compressed into a dull wooden box-
Keeping in it the dead
Memories.

A spirit, a girl, like an alcohol,
Drown me, make me high but
I wake up every morning to the reality
That you will never be mine, girl.
Unless the tides turn themselves.
The waves will only drive sailors seasick.
I don't want the salt nor sand on my skin,
Your fragments rest on my heart and
They sink me like a prisoner,
Cast iron chain, lead weight.

The skies used to appear bright.
There is no silver lining, no.
Con artist, I have been mislead once again.
Ahead of me lies a shadowed path,
I cannot see anything ahead of me.
I am waiting to stumble, fall, be hurt.
My doubt places my heart in a pressure chamber-

I am too tired to fight back.

(Haiku #5) June Holidays

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 16:35:00 +0000

fruit salad, a bowl
bright-red, chequered picnic mat
under the bright sun

(Haiku #4) Broken

noreply@blogger.com (Alexis Gerard) — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 19:25:00 +0000

dark night, candle light
a broken heart, a winter
cold, a lonely soul