|
|
Sunday, February 3rd, 2008
| |
5:37 pm - I'm baaaack!!
|
|
It has been way too long and I really need to start writing again. Greeting to all the fellow poets out there!
|
|
|
| Tuesday, May 16th, 2006
| |
9:47 pm - Poem to fling stuff at
|
Breakfast
We were having eggs
that morning.
I had mine with a muffin.
You told me that you
no longer felt the
desire to breathe the
same aromas of daybreak
as me.
I should have had
the toast.
current mood:  okay
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Monday, January 23rd, 2006
| |
9:54 am - Postcard to my Exes: Reply Back Soon
|
by Tadashi
Bring me the blood of all of my exes,
so that I may bathe in their
"It's not you, it's..well, yeah, actually it is you".
I am so weary of searching through chocolate bars
and half dead roses to find out what the fuck happened.
What happened to
Us.
Was it something that lingered, half swallowed
in the mist of a certain morning after?
When did it turn from
that place we shared together?
Bring me eyes of all of my exes,
so I may dine on them, with
red wine and cheese.
Green,
Dark Brown,
Blue,
Hazel.
All of them blinking, slowly in morse code
Let..her..suffer..
For..all..of..us..
Bring me the hair of all of my exes,
so that I can weave a blanket of razored comfort.
"You are cruel, spiteful and doomed."
Me, cradling my pride on the floor,
grasping for any softness in the voices
that are even now, floating away.
My chains, rattling behind them,
the key
still stuck in my throat.
I am not all of the above, am I?
Cruel, yes.
Spiteful, comes with the territory, but
doomed?
I am not able to cry out the crimes.
The key is wedged too tight.
The blood, the eyes, the hair
are not trophies.
At least not anymore.
current mood:  sad
current music: silence
|
|
|
| |
9:50 am - The news of my death has been greatly exaggerated
|
|
Just was going through some personal things, but I am back now. Thanks for waiting for me...
|
|
|
| Thursday, December 2nd, 2004
| |
9:54 pm - Peppermint Patty Soliloquy
|
by Tadashi
I run after you,
my feet half falling out of
worn green sandals.
I tease you because I cared.
I love you much more than that
little red haired girl ever will.
She was a bubble gum dream that
I would never match up to being.
How can you fall for a girl
with freckles and such a big nose,
when there are visions like
her floating around?
I am a dustcloud of reality.
"She was so pretty.
She sort of sparkles.
I'll never sparkle."
I will kiss your ear,
and sing in a slightly flat
voice. Just for you.
I'll be here when she is gone,
holding your hand.
current mood: okay
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Monday, October 4th, 2004
| |
9:56 pm - Hurricanes everywhere!
|
To the few people who thought that I died, no I have not. I live in Florida and my poor state has been continually smacked silly by hurricanes. Small poem for you. Doesn't have a title yet, or a focus. It's a start though..
Poem
Turn your head just one more time,
so the dawn makes your grin appear.
Breathe those milk chocolate
kisses on my chin.
Your presence is like
candy to my form.
Let me call you pet names
until you
roll
your
eyes.
current mood:  tired
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Wednesday, May 26th, 2004
| |
10:41 am - Trace
|
by Tadashi
Your beauty hangs over
week old conclusions
of why I carried you here.
You mark my left shoulder
with whispers of kisses
that you are longing to give.
Take me home.
Take me home.
I reject your protection
and take all the bullets
of people who smiled before.
Are we alone?
Are we alone?
Yellow stained carpets
litter my dreams,
as a little boy hands
me a flower to hold.
Take me home.
The water is flowing
drowning all of us.
We float in a peppermint
sky.
Indigo was the only
thing I could remember...
This was just a rambling of thoughts. Does any of it sound good to make a different poem out of?
current mood:  creative
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Wednesday, May 19th, 2004
| |
11:45 am - Re mote
|
by Tadashi
Tap tap tappity tap.
Your apology stuck
to my ribs, like
finely chewed toffee.
Just stop tapping your
fingertips, in rhythm to
"Three's Company."
Tap tap tappity tap.
Is there nothing sacred
when we are shouting
ill conceived
metaphors at each
others soft spots?
Your smile,
a forgotten series pilot.
The only light at the
end of the tunnel shows
a commercial for dog food.
Remember how we used
to be less,
something?
Tap tap tappity tap.
My apology went down,
like a weakly stirred
breakdown.
You swallow it in anyway,
and we wait for the credits.
The shadows of writers
and cast members
pepper your profile.
Turn off the sound,
and let us compose
our own dialogue,
just once.
current mood:  calm
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Sunday, May 2nd, 2004
| |
10:57 pm - Let Me (2nd edit)
|
by Tadashi
Let me
suck the marrow
from
your hipbone.
Let me
become drowned
by salt
from your tears.
Let me
love you,
then shove you
to a place
dark,
dank,
and cold.
Let me break through
mountains,
and burn down trees.
Let me scream
until I bleed.
Let me step on
your shadow,
until I can
become yours.
Let me
beg for your lips,
on rain soaked
knees.
Let me
take some time
to sip your
anger.
Let me
hold you,
then attack you.
Those eyes
Too
much
to bear.
Let me make
you feet kick, and
your feet pound.
Let me hear
you’re still around.
Let me
find one more
reason you
should come
back home
to me.
current mood: numb
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Tuesday, April 20th, 2004
| |
3:30 pm - Assumptions
|
by Tadashi
Part One
"I'm meeting my husband here,"
I say, gently pushed aside at
movies and restaurants.
"What does he look like?"
Black shirt, brown hair, blue jeans.
A minute later,
they return.
I didn't see anyone like that.
"He's white,"
I assist.
He is found 2 seconds later.
We are not targets of prejudice,
nor victims pointed at, or attacked.
We are mere objects of assumption.
Black wife = black husband.
If Latoya decided to get married, what would be the best mate, based on appearance?
(Latoya is 24, dark brown skin, dark brown eyes, college educated.)
a. Tyron- 26, light brown skin, brown eyes, business man.
b. Philip- 26, white, green eyes, lawyer.
c. Jacob- 26, dark brown skin, dark brown eyes, doctor.
The math is logical.
Part Two
Holding my stepdaughter,
I am stopped at a local mall exit,
and asked to come to the information desk.
Information of choice is
if she is supposed to be with me,
because
White father + white mother = white child.
I am left out of the equation.
Part Three
I had destroyed a large amount
of words explaining that
"Yes, that is my husband."
One day, growing inside of
me will be a common denominator.
White father + black mother = newly formed assumptions.
current mood: artistic
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Saturday, February 14th, 2004
| |
2:43 pm - VD:04
|
by Tadashi
Here I stand, somewhat
battered, in the full force
of another Valentine's Day.
This 2/14, in 1986
I sat in Mrs. Jones' class,
waiting for tons of cards scribbled with
"I really like you, would you be my valentine?"
Just one card would have been nice.
Charlie Brown,
somewhere in a different life
raises his hand in a Black Sabbath
sign.
I must rock on despite this.
Four years later,
face first in a pile of sand
I had received the good news
that "Crushin' Justin" had
found me
his newest puppy love target.
The V Days swirl around
my form,
full of B movie costars
and the temperamental director
in me shouting
"You call THAT a love scene?
I've seen better kissing on
Animal Planet!"
Here, below,
I list the Valentine's Days
of the past,
in 1 sentence or less.
1. Spent it at the Food Court in the mall, because he just had to have pizza.
2. Spent it saying goodbye at the airport, seeing that he was in the Navy.
3. Didn't spend it at all, considering he broke up with me in January.
All of them failed attempts.
All of them failed experiments.
"This time people,
let's see some FUCKING emotion!
You all are killing me here!"
Now, I sit in a sushi
restaurant, as our waiter
tells us about the raw fish specials
in such happy tones that you are smirking.
Last year,
4. We spent it at Perkins, because both of us were idiots
and forgot to make reservations for someplace nice.
In my plate, reflections of
some of incident 1.
Part of bittersweet 2.
The sadness of 3.
All with a side of wasabi.
"Come on, the audience is wanting romance.
This is supposed to be a happy ending.
And roll 'em. Action!"
In the living room today,
you came up to me,
holding in your hands
24 long stemmed roses.
"Now, go in for the kiss.
After years of bad takes,
she finally got it right."
You ask if I want the
last bit of my California roll,
yanking me back to the present.
Even Charlie Brown would be
smiling today.
current mood:  happy
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Wednesday, January 7th, 2004
| |
2:43 pm - Untitled Event # 23
|
by Tadashi
Her father shaped her,
but not in a way she wished.
A bullet was her voice.
The lights trailed like fireflies,
helping her to float away.
Little baby, I'll be here.
Her father was kind,
before the cracks were ran deep.
Her hair flecked with the unborn.
Finding her barefoot,
under the newly freed grass.
Little baby, don't you fear.
Her father was laughing,
until he saw her outstretched rage.
He danced long before he buckled.
To breathe again,
without his hands sliding beneath her.
For there is no need to cry,
I will love you until I die.
current mood: calm
current music: silence
|
|
|
| |
9:40 am - Hello again...
|
No, I haven't died. I, for some reason or another, was not able to get into my live journal until today. I need to do some serious comment updating.
current mood: blank
current music: TV noise
|
|
|
| Tuesday, December 30th, 2003
| |
2:59 am - Time Waster
|
by Tadashi
I am a waster of time.
I take hours, minutes, and seconds,
and sprinkle them beyond the stars.
Time has never been on my side.
It robbed me of my mother,
to whom time hung around
long enough to make the
"effery" of my name complete.
It swayed in gentle breezes
until ready to strike.
I take the moments of time
and throw them over my shoulder.
Hang them on oak trees and
misunderstood emotions.
Time is a patient spirit,
slowly turning dimples to wrinkles.
Kissing the hair around me
to a graceful silver.
I will always find ways
to dance with time.
To waste, and spend time
until at last, it overtakes
me. Until it calls me home.
current mood: sad
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Saturday, December 27th, 2003
| |
11:06 pm - Lingering
|
Everyday you help me keep breathing
through the way you roll you r's,
and style your words to form perfect
sentences. Not one verb or adjective
out of place.
I listen to you speak of how clouds
are fickle creatures.
I watch your eyes become half moons,
laughing at my Monty Python
impressions.
Whisper how much you want me
to hold raindrops in my cupped hands.
Moments like this last long after we
decay, our gravestones forgotten.
As for now,
you taste your children's
smiles when my ears are kissed,
and I trace my heart on your chest
while we dream.
current mood:  loved
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Tuesday, December 23rd, 2003
| |
2:51 am - Laughing at 1:16am
|
by: Tadashi
Little water flows,
because you allow
yourself to love
too much.
Your hands
griping a lot of
everybody's problems.
Until 1:16am,
on a foggy Saturday.
And with that
you toast
to changing.
Adding a sprinkle
of breaking off
the past.
You mix a ounce
of irony,
and a dash of
your own brand of sarcasm,
and laugh the night away.
You don't give a damn
what they say.
Your beautiful,
you know.
It's time you
allowed it
to show.
Let the smiles
cross your lips
again,
and grace us with
that charm.
The world is waiting,
for you to shine.
current mood: touched
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Sunday, December 21st, 2003
| |
10:53 pm - Funny Girl
|
by Tadashi
I'm a funny girl,
because when you're pretty all
you need is to smile.
current mood: sad
current music: silence
|
|
|
| |
5:18 pm - Mother Part One
|
by Tadashi
Her eyes form me
when she gazes off to my left side.
She has reason to worry.
I have not grown up,
but side to side,
in a variety of angles and degrees.
Pausing to see the outlines on my character,
she circles around the edge of her coffee mug
with the tips of her left index finger.
First clockwise,
then counterclockwise.
Clockwise.
Counterclockwise.
If I could hold her shame for just one minute,
I would burn it,
along with the yelling and screaming
we once danced with.
Clockwise.
Counterclockwise.
Make it stop.
Make her see me,
for just one moment,
so I can show her what
I decided to kill.
current mood:  aggravated
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Friday, December 19th, 2003
| |
10:26 pm - Parts
|
by Tadashi
Last spring I gave
you my heart,
shaped out of red
construction paper
and jagged ends.
You laughed,
saying that it was
fascinating.
Last summer I gave
you my soul,
formed from a styrofoam
ball, some of
the gold paint
rubbed off.
You smiled,
saying that is was
amazing.
Last autumn I gave
you my trust,
bound up in twigs,
some splintered.
Some broken.
You sighed,
saying it was
undeserved.
Last winter I gave
you my tears,
clung to half swallowed
cups of coffee and
honeydew.
The debris
of me
still
lingers
on,
and on,
and on.
current mood:  thoughtful
current music: silence
|
|
|
| Wednesday, December 17th, 2003
| |
4:33 pm - Space
|
by Tadashi
I need space
for Christmas.
A shadow of my own
full of no noise,
no light,
and no you.
current music: silence
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
screamingroom's journal