Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

— Your lungs– 

Your lungs 

paper-mache worlds caged by lonesome bone.

Your lungs

 lined with the smoke of your impermanence.

Your lungs,

faded pink, breathe in the words of great minds

that taught your heart how to live.
I think:

This world can only hold so much pain,

That humanity cannot refrain

from evil,

from billowing clouds of thought pollution

and

the  allure of dancing on life’s deflated lungs.
Your lung’s edges

 melanized like my contaminated  heart.

Your lungs

like clay that has yet to be molded by the hands of time.

Your lungs 

vast oceans of air 

that are oceans from mine,

tiny capsules of loss.
 It is said,  “Death is the mirror in which the entire meaning of life is reflected.”

And when I look into it’s crystaline surface,

all I see is the vacancy of breath upon breath

and your lungs

writhing beneath a cloud of stubborness.

 
Your  pretty lungs, 

haunt me sometimes.

-Eva M.M.

Note that the quote on death being a mirror is from,  “The Tibetian book of living and dying “.

Thank you all for reading and sharing your feedback and thoughts with me.

Posted in Poems, thoughts

the looking glass ( 3.28.17)

Still as the moment,

I stand on the shore

watching the stillness,

water pulled into glass

and I look back at myself.

We only see what we want

to see

is to deceive,

to believe

that we are infinite finite beings.

I slowly trace circles against my wrists.

I muse    internally    and eternally

that nobody else seems to notice

the slow draining of life from our world,

that freedom is a bursting of arteries

and that we all question the power of compassion.

 

I am motionless

watching,

waiting for something to s h a t t e r the illusion

that I exist separate from existence.

 

I hear

the crinkling of crisp autumn leaves embracing the earth,

footsteps approaching.

I am not

                                                                                              alone.

All is tainted with the faint music of holding on to Now as it passes.

The gentle whisper of the trees, mother and child, soothing,

a conversation muffled by the sweet melody of weary birds.

 

The breeze raises tiny mountains on my arms,

the slight smile of sunlight upon frailty

and all labeled , existence.

 

I taste

the salt, the mineral flavor of red.

 

Foot follows foot.

I wave into the glass.

It taps against my ankles

cutting a lattice work of penetrating cold.

I watch the stillness shatter,

shards of light  breaking down light.

I no longer see myself in the disturbed surface.

I wade further in.

The water, saturating my clothes,

suctions me to the moment

and I know

we are all afraid

to go deeper

I desire,

dive beneath the blurred blackness.

I open myself to all it has to offer.

My eyes milky with the film of microscopic life.

My lungs burn.

I fall

and then

I exist

 

still.

 

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below. If you are new to my blog and would like to know more feel free to ask me any questions. Have a wonderful day and thanks for stopping by.

 

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

I let you (3.20.17 ) ( with audio)!

 I let you

I fear you,

repetition of repetition,

dazed and glazed.

you,

darkness upon darkness,

destroyed me with your lust

for love

is an acidic cloud of doubt.

I fell into you,

thorned briars upon briars,

tumbleweed

that whispered in the desert dim.

I embrace rank romance,

forbidden love, festering

words rotting upon the decay of flesh

upon flesh

knows not the radiance of forever.

I let you destroy

everything I stood for

I needed to feel adored,

wanted;

There is no value in vulgar validation.

I wanted the moonlight

and the warmth of the sun

but drunk on the moon shine

and scorched by the sun rays,

I fell through time,

a slow unwinding

of sinew and bone.

I let you in

but you were never there

so I let myself out

and I, still waiting,

waiting to go home.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in Poems

Morning Meditations with Audio!

I am so happy to announce I think I have figured out how to share audio with you guys but am still in the testing it out stages so let me know how giving it a listen went. For now, I have just reshared a poem I posted about a month ago and added the link ( in blue) for the audio. Thank you for reading and listening!

Morning Meditations

the trees are dusted with the light of the sun

the grass is veiled with the dew of the morn

-ing rises, sleep slowly slinks away–away

and I

posed

with me spine to the rays

and my head tucked away

–away

the icy breath of waiting to be known

the burning pause of being alone

solitude, festering fear fades away–away

and I

posed

with leg over leg

palms pressed away

–away

the radiant tendrils of tranquilty

the dominant tastes of freedom and peace

being, I feel this life pass away–away

and I

posed

with my back to the earth

breath floats away

–away.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

Reflections on poetry and a friend from a foreign land on a rainy day.

Some things I can not know

like the scent of rain upon feather

or the sound of heartbeat enthroned;

you,

or shall I say,

I

am

merely atoms and mutiny,

traitor to all–

myself

in dingy corners

and

dissonant words,

all pungent,

saturated with the lacy odour of decay,

the fragrance of death and earth,

mushrooms and smouldering roses.

Stillness.

Thought paid to assassinate thought,

anilihate idea,

eliminate invention.

This,

I am,

or should I say,

you are

the echo of glorfied heartbeat

comme le parfum des plumes qui glissent sur la pluie,

                                                                  know somethings,

not I…

Not I.

-Eva M.M

Thank you for reading and staying with me though I have been very distant lately. I have been both very busy and suffering from a severe depletion of energy even open my laptop even when I do have the time. So thank you for still reading and waiting patiently.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

Fallow

Creased hands

and beads of sweat

brave upon the cliff of your brow,

haunt me.

I feel the memory of being shattered,

set free against a hazy sunset.

I am bound even now

by the razor bladed trailing of your lips

And

scorched in the radiation of your sorcery

sensation beyond words, born in me,

spread

like a cancer,

its tendrils sweeping across my canvas,

nerves wrapped around nerves,

we were breath upon breath.

Now,

Ahamed,

Confused,

No longer the flushed minx,

The nephimp who dreamt a thousand worlds

But

Bare,

nude against the desert of lonesome bone,

severed sinew from weary lungs ;

I cower,

cradle tremble in tremble,

stare some nights on moonlit vacancy,

the mirrored reflection of my abandoned land,

undulating flesh that once,

streaked with the grip of youth,

now lies fallow,

Void of knowing.


Now,

Silent,

Still,

no longer the symphony of movement,

the voice that spoke out in a moment of submission

But

Meek,

timid against the tundra of crisp melancholy,

blurred noises upon subtle vibrations;

I close,

fingertips that shelter faded roses.

I fall some nights in revelatory ravines

in which I see only fragments of mirages,

veiled realities with the odour of smoke and deception,

smudged with the trailing of innocent betrayal.

I lie fallow.

Void of knowing.

– Eva M.M.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts  with me. I love each and every one of you, my little ink angels.

Posted in life, philiosophy, Poems, thoughts

the carnivore

Two years ago

I embraced its fangs,

the shred and torment of its teeth,

the passionate pollution of it.

The carnivore ekes out it’s living

from the silver tears of youthful hearts

but it bows to one greater,

palmed paradise,

palmed,

the cunning of laced skepticism,

blind rage,

and carnivorous letters read eagerly in dim light.

For I have a spliced heart,

divided infinitely

and through its trenches trails barbed wire,

the thorns of disregarded wisdom. 

It lurks in tangled shadows,

shifting shapes with eternal joy.

Still, we all buy a ticket

to drench ourselves in the honeyed sensulality of the carnivore.

-Eva M.M.

Thank you as always my little ink angels for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in fragments, life, Poems, story, thoughts

oblivious ( i gave you…)

” I think I just might hate you for peeling away everything I thought I knew –but — but how would I know, after all, I live in deceit.”

He stands, stretching his legs. Oblivious.Goes on another day. Oblivious.There is always work to be done and dreams to be caught.

There is always the sweet kiss of oblivion

against your ruined skin.

I think I just might  love you

for stripping away everything I thought was there to protect me from going after the power of flesh.

And was this just another game for me

and another life lesson for you.

I am always wishing you all the best

and letting you hold your hand to my throat

while I cry and try to help you all the more.

Maybe I am better off admitting that I was never here to heal you

for how can I heal you when all I do is hurt?

Why am I always chasing after people who only spit in my face and tatter my skirt?

I gave you my words.

I gave you my mind.

I gave you my heart.

and after all of that

you left

oblivious

that I had also given you

the only thing I cannot regret giving you.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in Poems, thoughts

the ceraunophile

charged

the night beams

he shifts against the earth

and I am

regret

the ceraunophile

reads the sky

back to the water clogged soil

and I am

fear

ignited

the world aflame

he dreams of freedom

and I am

alive

the ceraunophile

traces my jawline

sparks of radiant electricity slicing

and I am

eternal

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Thank you all for reading. This poem came to me because I was reading this article about lightening and came across this word and after some investigating, I found out it basically means one who loves lightening and thunder. Though it can actually mean one who is physically sexually aroused by thunder and lightening and I did slightly add that idea to my poem, I mostly stuck with one who has a deep love and admiration for lightening. I wanted to keep this poem sparse in that I did not use punctuation and kind of just let the words flow instead of being separated so to speak. While I know this is far from a perfect poem I wanted to keep it this way for many reasons. In a way, it is kind of jarring and shaped like a strange lightening bolt. Let me know your questions, comments and thoughts though. Thanks.